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.
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Summary of what's been happening between our two favorite characters:
Snape used a time-turner given to him by Albus to go back and teach the week he missed while he was in the hospital wing recovering from his ordeal with Voldemort. Unbeknownst to Albus, he makes a detour and goes back to see himself after he returns from Voldemort's torture. He is shocked by the horrible shape he was in but much more by the way Albus cared for him, not to mention the fact that in his delirium, Snape confessed his love for Albus.
After attending dinner in the great hall, where Albus and Minerva see time-turner Severus for the first time, Snape follows the pair. There he sees Dumbledore preparing to enter his infirmed counterpart's mind to awaken him from his coma. Snape reels (and is still reeling) from the realization that it was Dumbledore who saved him from death.
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Unexpected Grace
by CocoaSnape
Chapter 14: Deluge
The rain seems an entity unto itself this eve. It pours down in torrents, sheeting down the nearby rock-faces, the runoff streaming down the grassy slopes towards the main gate. There, where the ground has absorbed its limit and is beginning to flood, sits a dark figure. The rain has long soaked through his thick dark robes, leaving them caked in mud. His head is arched back, propped against the metal bars of the wrought iron gate. He stares challengingly at the force attacking him, the rain pounding against his face, plastering his dark hair against his pale skin.
His efforts to stand have all been for naught, and he abandons any further attempts as his legs are too weak to comply. As it is, he prefers to remain exactly where he sits, his mind strangely comforted by the fierce deluge attacking him, even as his body begins to rebel against the cold. He wonders morbidly how long he could remain in this spot before catching his death or before the elements began consuming his flesh.
The obscenely late hour guarantees he will not be disturbed by any passersby, although even if it were daylight he doubts anyone would have the gall to approach him in his current state. He is a frightful sight. His temperament is no better.
He's lost complete track of time, unaware of how long he has been lying here. Ten minutes? Thirty? Possibly longer, he thinks, judging by how deeply the cold has penetrated his bones.
Reluctantly, and with much effort, he grasps the wand in his pocket, and whispers an incantation. A moment later, he speaks the accompanying message.
His duty done, he considers getting up once more, but ultimately decides against it. Perhaps he'll stay here a while longer. Maybe, if he stays long enough, the cold will numb his pain the way it has numbed the rest of him.
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3 days earlier:
Severus Snape was momentarily distracted by the sound of something coming through his Floo. It took him a couple of seconds to find his place and resume his reading. In the periphery of his vision, he could see an envelope floating towards his desk. He knew exactly whom it was from.
Last night, Albus had issued him just such an invitation for tea, but he'd managed to provide a plausible reason for his inability to attend. No doubt Albus was sending him another invitation for this evening. The idea of having to produce a new excuse was not an appealing one, but Snape knew he'd have to offer up something. Ever since his adventure with the Time Turner, he found himself feeling profoundly uncomfortable in Albus's presence – both from remembering what he'd seen and from having to hide the fact that he'd ever seen it in the first place.
Closing his book, he stood and walked towards his desk. His eyes narrowed at the envelope lying there. Not the familiar red that marked Albus's style. Instead, the red that had caught his eye was the wax sealing the white envelope. He recognized the crest on the seal embedded in the wax immediately.
"Damn it," Snape muttered under his breath as he tore open the envelope and read its contents.
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Dumbledore was beside himself with worry. The past three days had brought him little peace and even less sleep. When he'd received the note from Severus three nights ago indicating that he was leaving on 'business,' Dumbledore had not expected such a long absence.
There had been a time when Severus would be gone for days at a time and Dumbledore was none of the wiser concerning his whereabouts. But that was many years ago, and although the circumstances were similar, nothing about this was the same. Dumbledore stared blankly at the walls of his study, the staccato sounds of the rain pounding against the window behind him, as he berated himself for the millionth time for ever allowing Severus to return to that monster.
After Severus had recovered from his ordeal with Voldemort, Dumbledore had been adamant that the risks of Severus spying for the Order were too great. But Severus would hear none of it, steadfastly insisting that he was determined to bring about Voldemort's downfall. All of his efforts to get Severus to discuss the emotional impact of what he'd suffered had been sharply rebuffed.
And to Dumbledore's dismay, the trauma Severus suffered had, if anything, served only to embolden him, cementing in his mind that his return was critical to the Order, that his torture had been a test of his true allegiance. And Severus had apparently been right about that, as he was already being trusted with key information about Voldemort's plans. Dumbledore shuddered to think it, but Severus had been Voldemort's favorite in the old days, and it seemed that he was in a position to be again.
It should have been a blessing. Severus poised to be Voldemort's right hand, privy to every detail of his intent. But so often, the goals of the many do not coincide with those of the individual. Whereas the Order craved Severus's success in reestablishing these old ties with Voldemort, Dumbledore could only grieve it. He already recognized the warning signs he had seen in Severus so many years ago when he had first begun his work as a spy. And in a matter of just two meetings with Voldemort, Severus was already creating distance between them. Whether it was hiding behind that impassive countenance whenever Albus tried to engage him in conversation, or rejecting his latest invitation to tea. But Dumbledore would gladly trade every tea date from now on if it meant Severus's safe return.
A moment later, Dumbledore felt a thread of magic in his periphery and turned around sharply just as the silvery wisps that had slivered under the door reassembled into the familiar shape of Severus's Patronus. It spoke its brief message, 'Back. Fine. Be up later,' and then disappeared.
Dumbledore exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding and immediately wondered, 'Back?' That was strange. He hadn't sensed Severus enter his dungeons quarters or even the castle for that matter. He'd been watching them intently for any sign of the younger wizard's return. Training his gaze outside through the ornate window of his sitting room, Dumbledore used his spectacles to scan the furthest distance of the grounds. There he spotted a dark figure sitting at the front gates.
Wondering what on earth Severus could possibly be doing out there, Dumbledore rushed out the door of his quarters, down his revolving staircase, along the long hall corridor and finally through the main doors. He cast an Impervious charm as he stepped outside, creating an impenetrable barrier that kept out the wind and the water, the rain hitting an the invisible shield over the top of his head, cascading down around him, leaving everything but the soles of his shoes bone dry.
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Snape's ire had been matched only by his dread the moment he'd read that damn invitation. A revel of all things! Apparently 13 years away from their perverse social gatherings was excuse enough to have another.
Attendance was optional of course, but he wasn't naïve enough to think that his was anything but compulsory. He pretended to be amused by their cruelty and their sadistic humor, half-astounded they didn't sense his repulsion and disdain. This wasn't what he had signed up for; it never had been, not even 18 years ago when he'd first joined the Dark Lord's cause. He had been motivated by a misguided sense of power and ambition, his mind tainted with confusion and resentment. Not once had the enjoyment of another's suffering been something he desired.
So when he'd finally returned to Hogwarts this evening, he felt inexplicably dirty. The rain had started almost the same moment he'd Apparated back to Hogsmeade. It must have been fate, Snape considered. Moved by that notion, he'd settled down just inside the gates, hoping that the rain would do its duty and wash away some of the filth before he went up to see Albus. He could still feel the memory of the past three days on his skin – almost like a perceivable stench. He wondered morosely if Albus would detect it as well.
When he first Apparated back, he'd briefly considered punishing Albus by not announcing his return, but ultimately he subdued his frustration enough so that it did not cloud his better judgment. By now, Snape considered, Albus must have received his message, sent through his Patronus. He hoped that Albus wouldn't seek him out here; he didn't think he could stand the awkwardness of such an encounter. After returning from the revel, he'd felt the need to take his time before reporting to the Headmaster's quarters – time to breathe, to focus, to strengthen his walls. He couldn't risk Albus seeing the truth; he couldn't bear to see pity in Albus's eyes, or worse... the disappointment.
Unbidden, the mental images of those weeks spent with Albus while he was in the hospital wing flashed before him. How natural it had been to be around Albus then – the undemanding ease of their conversations, the pleasant sound of Albus's laughter, the energy of their intellectual discussions, the hilarity of Albus's tall tales, and the comfortable effortlessness of their silences. It'd been like a dream. But now he'd woken up. Damn Albus for showing him that. For showing him that his life could be any different.
The past week had been a difficult one for Snape – nights of fitful sleep as he tried to come to terms with all that he'd seen on his Time Turner journey. Snape realized that if he hadn't already before, Albus certainly knew him now, every inch of him. Knew him emotionally through his own wretched forthrightness when he'd confessed his fears and weaknesses. And too physically, Snape remembered, as Albus had held him, through his convulsions and sickness. And that was perhaps the worst of it – that he'd have to hide from the one person who knew him best. But how could he not after what happened? Albus had done everything in his power to ease his recovery in those horrible hours after his return from the Dark Lord, and when nothing had worked, and it seemed that all hope was lost, he'd done the impossible by entering his mind and pulling him back to life. Albus had saved him, yet again.
The main doors of the castle opened then, and in the periphery of his vision Snape could discern the light of the hall escaping into the darkness and a tall figure moving toward him. Snape huffed out loud, the sound emanating from his throat miserable and pained. Why on earth was he coming out here?
Strange how emotions can play out in one's mind. How Snape's overwhelming gratitude to Albus, the crushing weight of those memories and emotions – shame, terror, indebtedness – how they so easily morphed into anger.
As Snape studied the man moving toward him, it occurred to him that it was the only time he'd ever seen the Headmaster run. He felt the diagnostic charm hit him, and almost immediately thereafter Albus slowed his pace to a fast walk.
As Dumbledore approached Severus, stopping just a few feet away from him, he could practically feel the despondency of the man in front of him, if it were not already painfully evident from his wretched frame. His robes clung to his soaked form and his clothing was covered in mud. Every second of silence that passed between only heightened Dumbledore's anxiety.
"Severus?"
Snape lifted his head from the back of the bars to study the man in front of him, but deliberately avoided his gaze. Dumbledore's Impervious charm was shielding him perfectly from the elements, his robes remaining unsullied and as magnificent as always, leaving not a single hair out of place on his head. 'How appropriate,' Snape thought. Nothing ever seemed to touch him, not even now. He wanted to scream.
Snape wondered if Albus could see the storm raging inside him, the emotions brimming over the edges of his consciousness. He wondered if he was good enough to occlude even Albus's keen perception.
Disconcerted by Severus's troubled demeanor and his lack of response, Dumbledore asked softly. "Severus, are you alright?"
After a long moment Snape answered mechanically, "I'm sure your diagnostic charm already answered that for you." A pause and then he added, "I didn't mean for you to come out here, Headmaster."
Dumbledore frowned slightly at the formality and the tone of Severus's words. "Apparently, you are going to force me to ask the obvious, Severus. What are you doing?"
"Sitting," Snape replied flatly.
Dumbledore's concern trumped his exasperation at that remark.
"Severus, you're trembling. Let me…" he said, reaching for his wand to cast Impervious and warming charms.
Knowing what Dumbledore was about to do, Snape spoke sharply, his voice urgent and strong despite his weakened state. "No! Please… I want to feel the rain."
Reluctantly, Dumbledore complied.
The silence that followed stretched for several long minutes between them. Dumbledore was on the verge of ignoring Severus's request and ready to cast a warming spell when Severus finally spoke.
"I barely saw him. He made brief appearance, for morale I suppose."
Dumbledore ignored the report, his attention on more pressing matters. "Severus, please… are you alright?"
Snape snorted. "I have no injuries if that's what's your asking."
The cynicism in his tone was unmistakable. If he hadn't been certain of it before, Dumbledore knew that Severus was not doing well at all.
"It was a revel," Snape continued, determined to report this information so that he never need speak of it again. "The Death Eaters do love their soiree you know. And since the Dark Lord has ordered them all to lie low, they have to entertain themselves privately. Needless to say, it was not my idea of fun."
Severus was being sarcastic and dismissive, and Dumbledore knew he was holding back, doing his best to bury the emotions surrounding what had occurred over the past three days. Dumbledore was determined to try and assuage whatever misplaced guilt Severus was feeling.
"Severus, I'm sorry that you had to go there. But whatever happened… it wasn't your fault."
Dumbledore's voice, his words, caused something to stir inside him. Snape could clearly read its intent – to soothe, to remove his burden. Just as it had done many times before, Snape thought. Just as it had done in the hospital wing, when he lay broken and pathethic. Is that how Albus saw him now?
Where once he had felt shame, now he felt only rage, hot and blinding. Rage at Albus for having been there. For having seen that part of him he hated. Part of him he didn't even know existed. For witnessing the magnitude of his weakness. And for saving him, yet again.
"Spare me your platitudes, Headmaster!" Snape spat savagely. He wanted to be crude, to lash out and hurt Albus as much as possible in this moment, and he let the words surge out of him, fed by the safe emotion of anger. "I'm so fucking tired of hearing them."
Dumbledore startled, unaccustomed to Severus's scathing words, but far more by the glaring resentment in Severus's voice. Although it stung, Dumbledore knew that he deserved it.
Snape's wish to inflict pain was quickly reversed when he saw the look in Albus's eyes, and he attempted an apology. "I'm sorry, Headmaster, that was uncalled for."
"There is no need to apologize, Severus," Dumbledore replied sincerely. "You need not ever censor your thoughts from me. In fact," he continued significantly, "I quite prefer it for us to be open and honest with one another."
Snape stiffened sharply at the meaning he derived and retorted heatedly, "I don't make it a habit of lying to you, Headmaster."
"I never said that you did. I made no such accusation, Severus. I simply meant that you hide too much. But I believe we've already exhausted that topic to death," Dumbledore said, now his turn to sound despondent and exhausted. "I won't belabor it anymore."
Snape said nothing to that, and let the silence fall between them once more, partially out of anger, but mostly because he was determined to delay telling Albus where exactly he'd been for the past three days. After a long minute, Snape relented, acknowledging the fact that he'd have to do it eventually and what better place, after all, than in this rain, which had not even slightly diminished in its intensity. Perhaps it would wash away some of the filth.
"I had to go," Snape began, his voice suddenly strained and tentative. He cursed himself for the weakness it betrayed. "I… had a personal invitation. It would have been suspicious had I refused it."
A personal invitation? Dumbledore considered the words carefully, suspecting all too well what that meant, but not wanting to ask directly. Instead, he simply asked, "Where was this revel?"
A beat before Severus took a deep breath and answered reluctantly, "Malfoy Manor. Lucius does love to put on a show."
Lucius! Dumbledore felt something clench inside his gut at the sound of that name on Severus's lips. He struggled to mask his ire, doing his best to not let his expression betray his emotions.
Snape felt the sudden urge to tell Albus that this wasn't like it had been before. That engaging in a little tête-à-tête with Lucius Malfoy was beyond even his limits when it came to playing the loyal Death Eater. But he found he was unable to speak; his throat tightened when he saw the way Albus was studying him.
So Severus had spent the last three days on Lucius's invitation? The very thought caused Dumbledore's blood pressure to skyrocket. It was no secret to him that that two had had a 'thing' in the old days. Severus had been 17, convinced he was in love with Malfoy and that those feelings were reciprocated. And the elder Malfoy had used it to his advantage, introducing him to a most unscrupulous circle of friends, and ultimately to Voldemort who was not coincidentally seeking a Potions virtuoso to join his cause.
Besides whatever other horrors had gone on at this revel, Dumbledore knew that Malfoy's presence had at the very least made the past few days highly uncomfortable ones for Severus. Dumbledore knew Malfoy well enough, knew he was as manipulative and as brazen as they came. He wouldn't have been surprised if this entire revel had been designed with Severus in mind. It enraged him to know that Malfoy had put Severus in such a situation. But for his part, Dumbledore also he felt guilty that Severus had had to attend for the Order, and most likely had to rebuff Malfoy's advances with polite delicacy for three days running.
Of course Dumbledore knew that Severus would not go back to Lucius for anything – he did not doubt that for a moment. But just knowing that Malfoy had issued the invitation, just the idea of the two had been in such close proximity released in Dumbledore a depth of feeling he'd never quite experienced before, his eyes charged with an intense possessiveness for the man in front of him.
Snape could see it in Albus's eyes – he was wondering about Lucius. A surge of anger bloomed in his chest. What did he think?! Snape thought in a fit of rage. That he'd attended this revel just for the chance to see Lucius again? That he actually welcomed Lucius's pathetically veiled advances? That he fell to his knees far too easily? Any urge to tell Albus that it had been nothing like that died in that moment. How could Albus think so little of him? Let him think it, Snape thought furiously. Damn him to hell for thinking it!
Severus swore a silent promise right then and there that he would not tell Albus. Not if Albus could believe such a thing of him.
And perhaps in the long run, Snape considered, things would be better this way. Let Albus think the very worst of him. Maybe then Albus wouldn't feel beholden to look after him time and time again. Maybe then Albus would finally be free to end their friendship if he so desired. Snape's chest grew heavy at the very thought. But perhaps it would be a blessing in disguise, easing him from his burden of constant inadequacy. Perhaps in time, Snape thought, he might even welcome Albus's disgust.
The silence between them on the matter of where the revel had been had grown long and uncomfortable, each man lost in his own opposing thoughts. Dumbledore had no knowledge of what had gone on over the past three days. Whether it was being near Malfoy that had Severus so visibly disturbed, or just the events of the revel, Dumbledore hoped to convey that he knew that whatever had happened was out of Severus's control.
"Severus, I don't know what happened, but—"
"Please," Snape snapped, "don't say another bloody word about it!" He couldn't bear for Dumbledore to ask, even obliquely what had happened between him and Lucius. And he refused to offer up the answer on a silver platter either. Never.
The rain had still not let up. Dumbledore's charm was holding steady, keeping him perfectly dry. Even so, he felt chilled. It didn't take his genius to read Severus's manner and realize that in this moment even a warming charm would be rebuffed. So despite his concern, Dumbledore made no move to cast either a drying or warming charm on the man sitting in a puddle of mud at his feet.
Severus's eyes were closed, as if he were in pain. Knowing there was nothing physically wrong with him, Dumbledore wondered if perhaps he'd made this entire situation worse by coming out here tonight. With uncharacteristic hesitancy in his voice, he asked slowly, "Do you want me to leave you alone, Severus?"
Snape pressed his head back against the bars, feeling the bite of the metal edges against his skull. The pain was steadying, grounding him in a way he couldn't explain. "Do what you want," Snape bit out harshly.
The briefest feeling of triumph passed over Dumbledore at that. Anyone else would surely have taken that irate reply as a rude send-off. But Dumbledore knew better, and it relieved him in a way he could not fully express. Severus never had any qualms about telling him to get lost, particularly when his mood was this disturbed. The fact that he'd left the decision up to him was not lost on the elder wizard, and he felt sure then that Severus was testing his resolve, testing how much more of this he would endure before he gave up on him and left.
"Severus, it's dreadful out here. Please come inside with me."
Snape glared at Dumbledore in reply. He had no wish to go inside.
"Severus, I know you're angry with me; you have every right to be, but sitting here—"
"I'm not angry with you," Snape interjected irately. That was a lie – his voice betrayed it – but in truth, he wasn't angry with Dumbledore in the way he thought he was. "I've no reason to be angry with you," Snape whispered under his breath, his voice suddenly despondent.
Dumbledore studied his friend for a long moment, trying to deduce what was going on inside his head. "I hope, my boy, you're not blaming yourself for things that are out of your control."
The reply was swift. "I'm your spy for a reason, Albus."
Dumbledore knew what Severus meant, at once understood his friend's tormented thoughts – he had once chosen to become a Death Eater. It saddened him that Severus had yet to forgive himself for that decision, especially after all the good he'd done. "You deserve forgiveness, my boy." At Severus's sharp glance, Dumbledore amended, "Not from me, Severus. You had mine long ago."
Snape's expression relaxed slightly, but he said nothing.
Dumbledore did not relent. "It's long past the time for you to forgive yourself."
Snape snorted loudly, his voice mocking, "And what the hell would you know about that?"
"I know plenty, Severus. Do you really think I have done nothing shameful in my life, nothing that could make me understand the torture you're putting yourself through right now?" Dumbledore asked pointedly.
Snape eyed his friend skeptically.
"It would be quite an assumption to think I've never known regret or shame. Then again," Dumbledore added pensively, "I suppose that it is my fault that I've never shared it with you, especially since I've asked you to do the same. But believe me when I tell you that I have had much to atone for… as much, if not more, than you have, my boy," Dumbledore said, his voice serious and sincere.
"I understand your position, Severus. The last thing I wanted was to share the extent of my guilt and disgrace with others. You probably consider it hypocritical of me then to demand it of you as I have, but I haven't wanted you to fall into that same trap of denial, inner turmoil, and self-loathing. And so I've tried to encourage to you speak only because I know not from theory but from practical experience that if you don't let this out, if you don't exorcise these demons after each meeting, it will slowly eat you up inside."
Dumbledore took a deep breath and finished significantly, "And I promise, when we are in a more suitable setting, I will do the same. Although no doubt you'll think it another of my tall tales."
Severus met his gaze then and Dumbledore could see that not only did Severus believe him, he also had correctly deduced the events to which he was referring. Progress then perhaps. He could read Severus's emotions – tentative curiosity, uncertainty, and intense surprise that he would be willing to share this most personal part of his past with him, the one thing he'd never spoken of before, with anyone.
"But for now, it's rather late, my boy, and no doubt you are chilled to the bone. Please come inside with me."
When Snape did not reply, nor did he move, Dumbledore began to wonder if he'd made a mistake in his initial assessment of Severus secretly yearning his company. He had felt sure that Severus did not want to be alone, and yet he remained completely intractable and silent, even after he'd broached the touchy subject of his past. Dumbledore could see that by now Severus was shivering from the cold, and he was at a loss of what to do. He considered his options and wondered if he'd ultimately have to sedate Severus to get him safely away from the elements.
Snape could feel Dumbledore watching him intently, trying to discern his emotions. His body had cheered at Albus's suggestion of warmth, but he would not give into it. He could not. Albus was no doubt disgusted with him – for staying at Malfoy Manor, for doing things he hadn't even done. And at this moment, he could bear neither Albus's questions nor his silence. The fact that Albus refused to leave only enraged him further. Even through his disgust Albus would not leave him here. How like Albus, how noble of him not to neglect his responsibility. Snape was determined to release him from this misplaced sense of obligation.
"Headmaster," Snape intoned bluntly, deliberately using the formal address, "in case I haven't made this clear enough to you, I have no information for you or the Order. But if you so require, I will come and see you in the morning." His tone brokered no ambiguity, and his voice was raised to almost a shout to ensure it was heard over the rain and the occasional gusts of wind. "Now," Snape continued, spitting the last of his words with undisguised vehemence, "do you think you could manage just this once to do as I ask, and leave me alone?"
Dumbledore did not hesitate in his reply. "I think not. Sitting here in this downpour is doing you no good. I will not let you wallow in self-hatred, especially when that hatred is sorely misdirected."
Silence.
"Fine," Dumbledore continued, "I shall wait with you until you are ready to leave." Dumbledore spotted a gleam of defiance in Severus's eyes then. It was a relief to see that his strong Severus was still in there. Although Severus did not speak, Dumbledore could clearly read the words through Severus's features, through his quirked eyebrow and in the stubbornness of his clenched jaw. 'I can stay here for hours.'
Dumbledore did not doubt it for a moment. And in that moment, his uncertainty faded, and he knew precisely what to do.
Barely a second later, Dumbledore undid his umbrella charm and without preamble plopped down in the mud, so that he sat adjacent to his friend.
For his part, Snape could not help but turn his head fully and stare with eyes wide, his mouth open in shock. In a matter of seconds, he watched as the always impeccably dressed Dumbledore became drenched from head to toe. Snape's own dark robes hid the effects, but there was no concealing the results as Dumbledore's brilliant ivory silk robes became stained and soon thoroughly covered in mud, every inch of the once pristine cloth now sullied.
Barely able to control his shock, Snape managed to ask in astonishment, "Have you lost your mind?"
"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied with sudden joviality, a strange smile on his face. "Perhaps we shall both catch our death tonight."
Snape was stunned. Why was Albus doing this? And how was it that when he thought he had the situation in hand, Albus always managed to throw him for a loop? The defiant anger he'd felt only a moment ago receded, replaced with a pressure in his chest that made him feel that he might dissolve into tears at any moment.
Albus had joined him. He had gotten down to his level, in the dank mud and exposed himself to the deluge of rain and wind. It was completely unexpected. Nothing Albus could have said would have had such an impact. Perhaps he'd known that. He'd watched as he wallowed in pain and emotional anguish, torturing both his mind and body.
Albus had saved him many times – from the Dark Lord… from the Aurors… from Azkaban, and from death just weeks before. And now here he was, attempting to save him from himself.
He didn't deserve it. More than that, Snape was resolved to handle this on his own. He'd known it back in that first horrifying moment his mark had started to darken on his arm that he'd have to distance himself from Albus. He'd long dreaded the prospect, resigning himself to a relationship where their conversations were devoid of warmth and whimsy, replaced instead with impersonal and dispassionate reporting of Order business. But ultimately he knew it would be necessary, not only to maintain his facade of indifference towards Albus, but also to hide things from the man he could not bear to share, the horrors he'd see at meetings or revels such as the one he'd just attended.
However hard it would be, he had to face these things without Albus. This was his burden to bear. His and his alone.
"No, my boy," came the devastatingly gentle voice from Dumbledore, "you may have to go alone to him, you may have to perform this duty one your own, and I cannot express my sorrow that I cannot do more for you, that I cannot be there by your side. But you are not alone in this, Severus," Dumbledore said, placing his hand on Severus's knee.
Snape was sure he'd stopped breathing the moment Albus started speaking, his voice filled with almost unbearably tender affection. Albus's grip on his knee tightened as the elder wizard reached over and placed his hand gently on his cheek, forcing eye contact between them before adding in earnest, "And if I need to sit here in the mud all night to remind you of that, then that's what I shall do."
Albus's gaze was piercing, painful, and caused a hitch in Severus's breathing. He tore his eyes away, unable to stand its unwavering intensity, Albus's words evoking an enormity of raw emotion inside him. He wasn't sure he could handle another moment of kindness from this man, each one opening a new wound in his heart, a reminder of all that he could never repay.
As the long silent seconds passed, Albus's words were ringing in Snape's ears and he could feel Albus silently watching him. It took less than a minute more of that kind patient gaze from Dumbledore to melt all his remaining resolve. As he moved to stand, Dumbledore helped him to his feet.
Once they made it to the entrance and stepped inside the main doors, Dumbledore instantly cleaned and dried them both off. How easily Albus could dispel the filth; if only he could so easily remove the stench of his memory Snape thought to himself. Harsh laughter burst from Snape in the next moment, rough and hysterical. Anyone else would have most certainly thought him mad in that moment, but Dumbledore said nothing, almost as though he knew exactly what he was thinking.
Neither man said a word on their long walk down to the dungeons. And before long, Snape found himself face to face with the entrance to his quarters, his back to Dumbledore who was standing behind him. He felt a cold shiver pass through him and then, just as suddenly, a warming spell – one of Albus's. Another kindness! Where five minutes ago it might have enraged him, at this moment, it did precisely the opposite. He could feel the ache leaving his cold bones and he suddenly felt so relaxed and sleepy; he half-wondered if Albus had sedated him as well.
Albus was too kind to him. He'd withstood his crude comments, had taken his anger without reproach, had done his best to try and comfort him, and when he'd realized that no words could do that, he'd joined him down in the mud. And all of this despite knowing that he had been in Malfoy's company, despite thinking that he had…
Suddenly the thing he told himself he would never say came spilling out of him in a desperate urge to set the record straight about what had happened with Malfoy. To make Albus understand that he had no desire to… that he could never… that he would never…
"Albus, I didn't…" he began, but stopped abruptly as his breath left him, halting his ability to speak.
A moment later he felt Albus's hands rest atop both his shoulders from behind. Snape froze, reveling in the heavenly warmth radiating off Albus's touch. He was so glad he was facing away, because he didn't think he could disguise either the surprise or the ecstasy on his face.
Finding his voice once more, he tried again, "I didn't—" But this time Albus did not let him finish.
"I know, my boy. Of course I know," Dumbledore replied gently, his voice full of perceptive sincerity. "You need your rest now. Goodnight."
Severus took a long moment to steel his countenance before turning around. But when he did, Albus was already gone.
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Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've been waiting a very long time to write this. To all my reviewers – thank you for sticking by me despite the delays. Your enthusiasm and support is appreciated.
Thank you very much to my beta for this chapter, Snape's Nightie, who is awesome!
I anxiously await your comments. xx