Chapter One: Where blew a flower
In those first days after the Adfectus curse had been lifted and Minerva had returned to teach after having been sequestered away supposedly suffering from a serious illness, their relationship had been awkward. And hardly surprising, given that in order to lift the curse and prevent his death, Minerva had allowed him to make love to her. But as the days passed, Severus fell back into his old routine, as did Minerva, and their relationship began to return to normal.
When, late in October, Albus had asked to meet him one evening, Severus had assumed it was to discuss Order business, but instead, the old wizard had led him up to the sitting room of his private suite, where Minerva sat reading.
"You said you would come for drinks after Minerva returned, Severus," Albus said. "So I thought tonight would be good. I am home for a few days and you and I can discuss business tomorrow." The wizard smiled at him. "This evening is just for old friends."
Severus had not been entirely happy with the unexpected social occasion, but he had stayed, had a drink, tried to make small talk, and then left after an hour. Before he left, however, Minerva caught his arm.
"You said you would try some alternate Occlumency practices, Severus. Have you been doing that?"
Snape paused, looking down at Minerva. If he were ever going to lie to her, it would not be about something like this. "No. I have not. My standard practices have served me well. I see no need to change them. I do not anticipate being struck with another similar curse at any point soon."
"I know that, Severus, but I think . . . I think you should at least try. You might be happier, and I would like to see you happier."
Although no longer afflicted by the Adfectus spell, he was not unaffected by Minerva's desire to see him happier. He knew it was impossible, but he was nonetheless touched by her concern.
"I do not believe that happiness is my lot, Minerva," he answered softly. "And I do not believe that merely changing my practices, allowing myself a few lucid dreams, not Occluding daily and hourly, will change any of that. However, if you wish it, I will . . . experiment with some other practices."
"Oh, good!" Minerva said, smiling warmly. "You know, I might be able to help, as I had promised I would. I am no Legilimens, but since you are already an accomplished Occlumens and the purpose of these practices is not to keep someone out of your mind, but to allow yourself some freedom within your own, perhaps I might be able to help you."
With some reluctance then, Severus agreed to begin meeting Minerva to practice some lesser Occlumency exercises that would allow him to maintain a greater range of emotion while still remaining closed to any cursory attempt at Legilimens. When he met with the Dark Lord—or with anyone else who might be adept at Legilimency—he would still practice the complex Occlusion that he always had, allowing the Dark Lord to see what he wished him to see while appearing not to Occlude at all, with little moments of sham struggle when the Dark Lord approached "personal" memories. But when he was in the school, he would merely use a thin veil between himself and the world; if he felt someone probing his mind, he could immediately replace the veil with an iron wall. Severus would also no longer practice the Occlusion that kept him from dreaming. As Minerva had pointed out, he had no one trying to break into his mind while he slept, and if, by some remote chance, someone were able to even attempt such a thing, if he were dreaming lucidly, he could wake himself up.
The two had met several times, occasionally in her quarters, occasionally in his, and twice in the Headmaster's suite, when Severus had finally come to his decision. He had argued, cajoled, and even threatened, but had been unable to budge Albus from his planned course. Not that the planned course was set in stone nor that the outcome was certain, but Severus believed that without an alternate plan, without actively seeking a different solution, their paths would lead inexorably to doom for both of them, regardless of the good it might do for the wizarding world. And after one final futile argument, Severus saw that he had only one path left to him.
In despair, Severus had paced and shouted, "And Minerva, don't you love her? You claim to, but you are willing to just abandon her?"
For the first time in all of their arguments, Albus became truly angry. If one had looked at a Muggle snapshot of that moment, one would have noticed little difference in his demeanour, but his magic had crackled and Severus could feel it beating against him, not in gentle waves, but like a pounding surf. He Occluded and attempted to sit, to maintain his dignity in the wake of the old wizard's wrath, but he found he could not move, not because of any spell, but because of the overwhelming energy that surrounded him. For the first time in a very long time, Severus was genuinely frightened of the ancient wizard seated behind the desk. But Albus maintained sufficient control that the energy merely surrounded him and did not invade him or his own magic.
"You will not speak of that again. Do you understand me? I have given you great liberties, and I have done so out of my sympathy for you, but you will not speak of that again. You will not even mention Minerva's name unless it is in conjunction with school business or legitimate Order business. Never again, Severus. You cannot pretend to imagine even one shadow of a dream of what I feel for Minerva, and you may not speak of it nor of her."
When Albus finished speaking, the energy that had coursed so threateningly through the room subsided and drained away into its holder, but Albus himself slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. Severus did not know whether it was the display of power that had exhausted him or whether it was the control exercised to keep it in check, but the old wizard held his withered right hand cradled in front of him, his face pale and drawn.
"Go. We will finish this meeting later," he rasped.
He nodded to Albus, though the older wizard's eyes were still closed and unseeing, a shadow of pain veiling his face, and Severus turned to leave.
"I am sorry, Severus," Albus whispered.
"No, I am sorry, Headmaster. I am sorry for this, for everything. I will do what I can to make it right."
"I know you will, my boy. I know." The old wizard opened his eyes and smiled wearily. "Don't forget your meeting with Minerva tonight. She is expecting you."
Without answering, Severus left. And thus was born his ill-fated plan, beginning with his decision to tell Minerva of what Albus had been keeping from her. He hadn't told her that evening, deciding to choose his words carefully and to have some alternative to offer. He had already begun working on new potions to treat the curse that afflicted Albus's hand, and he was now fairly certain that he had developed two promising new formulas that might very well not only provide the limited relief of the current potion, but which might provide Albus with much more time, and more comfortable time, at that. They might not be cures, but at the Headmaster's age, staving off the final results of the curse for a dozen years or more might be as good as one.
Albus had discouraged him from working on any potions to cure the curse, saying that Severus's current duties were sufficient to take all of his spare time, and besides, there were certain inevitabilities in life, and he had come to terms with that one most inevitable event. Severus continued to work on the potions, however, and had even given him a modified potion the week before that final argument. Albus, still the Alchemist and Potions master despite years in his other roles, took one sniff and handed it back.
"There's something wrong with this, my boy, not to put too fine a point on it," Albus said bluntly.
"No, it's a new formula. It's improved, I think."
"The standard regimen has worked well for months. Let's stick to that."
"I haven't any of that potion made up. At least try this. I don't believe it will harm you, and I hope it will give you some greater relief."
Albus had agreed to take the potion, but would not say whether it was more or less effective than the old potion and had insisted that Severus return to brewing that one.
"If you do not, I am still quite capable of brewing it for myself, Severus. I have appreciated your doing it for me, as it means I have a steady supply. Given my work and my travels, my brewing time would be quite limited."
And so Severus returned to brewing the old potion, more than irritated at the Headmaster's obstinance. Severus suspected that the only reason Albus would not consider any of the other potions was because he wanted to make it easier on Severus in the end—but all that he was actually doing, Severus believed, was ensuring the inevitability of the outcome. Severus had been reluctant to accede to this course when they had set out on it over the summer, but after having been hit by the Adfectus, his reluctance had become utter repugnance.
The Adfectus might no longer be acting on him directly, but it had opened something in Severus that had long been closed, and Severus found that he could no longer interact with others in the same manner as he had before. Not that most people would have noticed a difference; his temper was still always on edge, held just in check, threatening to lash out at the first person to test him too far. He still had little appetite. He still found sleep eluded him. He still disliked attending gatherings of any size. He still hated Potter. Well, perhaps he didn't hate him. He found him revolting, disgusting, annoying, peevish, self-centred, willful, narrow-minded, immature, undisciplined, and slovenly. Of course Severus recognised, with no little measure of self-loathing and appreciation of the irony, that many of those adjectives could equally apply to himself. But at least he wasn't undisciplined—or slovenly. Whatever any of the students said about him being a "greasy git," he wasn't that. Well, he was a git, but he wasn't greasy. A bit too diligent in his use of Shed-Stop Potion on his hair, but one couldn't be leaving masses of hairs everywhere, not when one was a spy and suspected by those on both sides.
By the end of November, Severus had successfully reduced his daytime Occlusion, but he still had difficulty at night. It seemed impossible for him, after so many years of suppressing his dreams, to now dream and to remain asleep in the dream long enough even to attempt any of the new practices Minerva was urging him to try. Because waking up screaming from nightmares tended to put him in a miserable mood the next day—or more miserable than usual—he began to attempt this only on Friday and Saturday nights.
It was early December and the students would be leaving soon for their winter holiday and Christmas celebrations; Minerva was meeting Severus in his rooms on this occasion. She had been quite optimistic when Severus so quickly mastered the other Occlumency exercises that permitted him to control his emotional responses and his physiological reactions but without completely Occluding. She believed that his temper was improving, as well, and if the number of House points taken for no particular reason were any indication, he was becoming less volatile. He did complain now of other intrusive thoughts and emotions, ones that confused him and that he now had to find other ways of ignoring. The rebound effect from excessive Occlusion was definitely subsiding; Minerva had tried to convince Severus that the other feelings he was experiencing, though not all were positive—well, most were not positive, it seemed—were perfectly normal and that, rather than ignoring them, he should explore them and work through them. He laughed at that, a genuine laugh with only a slight edge of cynicism to it, and asked her how, after an entire lifetime of dysfunction, he was suddenly to acquire the ability to identify these emotions, let alone explore them or work through them. But what worried Minerva most was his inability to get through an entire night without Occluding—or using a potion, which was just as bad. If he didn't Occlude at all, he got no more than a few hours sleep at most.
Minerva had even bought Severus books on sleep and dreaming, including a few by Muggles, in hopes they would help him. That evening, they had been going to discuss the ideas in a few of them, as she had bought herself an identical set of books and had spent what little free time she had reading them.
"And this one, Minerva!" Severus threw down the book in disgust. "Claims I just have to know what my dreams mean and everything in my life will be rosy! I know exactly what my dreams mean. They mean that I am fucked up and have seen and done too many evil things in my life, and have seen, caused, and experienced too much pain. There is no mystery there, and no help for understanding it, either!" He leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, close to admitting defeat.
"That's good, Severus! Not what you have experienced or done, of course, but just think, a few months ago, you wouldn't have said any of that. And perhaps that is the key to gaining some control over your dreams. Begin to see your dream-self as . . . as an ideal Severus. Not the one who is, as you put it, 'fucked up,' who has seen and done and experienced all those horrific things, but the Severus who can put an end to it. The part of you that survives to do that. . . ." Minerva trailed off, thinking that Severus had dismissed what she was saying and lost interest, but he suddenly looked up from his curtain of hair.
"Albus said something like that once. He said . . . he said that it was all just . . . burying who I was. That I never would have come to him, and I wouldn't have stayed all these years, and continued even after the Dark Lord returned, if there wasn't still some part of me . . . some part of me that was still the best of me, and that was what drove me, more than the anger, resentment, loathing. He said those were just tools that my . . . my best self used because they were the only ones available." Severus seemed to wince. "He said I should . . . find other tools. He said that my regret was another tool, but that it, too, had limited usefulness. Is that what you mean, Minerva?"
Minerva hadn't been thinking in quite those terms, but now that Severus had voiced them, she nodded. "Yes . . . and I think that in your dreams, your best self has even greater possibilities because he can call forth new tools, invent them right there, try them out, discard them, use them, find what works to change the dream into something that is no longer a nightmare. Your best self needs to feel he can come forth in the dream and assert himself. There is no real danger—or very little—in your dreams. If something doesn't work, he can try something different, or he can wake you up."
"I already wake up. I'm surprised I don't wake half the castle, despite the charms on my quarters," he joked.
"You need to be able to wake yourself deliberately, Severus, not simply because you scream yourself awake," Minerva said bluntly. "Try to wake yourself as soon as you begin dreaming tonight. It's not a practice that you want to continue—you might as well Occlude or take Dreamless Sleep, in that case—but as a way for you to learn to gain control of your dreams, I think it would be a good first step."
"I don't know I'm dreaming, Minerva," Severus said quietly. "I still don't understand how I am supposed to recognise that."
"Is it so real, then?"
"Sometimes, but it is more that . . . I just . . . experience the dream. I can't reflect. I am asleep, not conscious. I don't understand how to be asleep and aware. . . ," he admitted.
Minerva reminded him of the particular exercises that he should do before falling asleep, had him practice a few as she monitored him using some diagnostics she had had her niece show her, and finally, she excused herself for the night.
"I am afraid I am becoming very sleepy, myself, Severus. I hope you have better success tonight. Let me know how you do. I think that Albus will be coming home tomorrow, so I don't think we can meet tomorrow evening, but after the students leave, we can meet a few extra times."
Severus nodded. "I hope that he returns soon."
"You need to see him?"
"No, I mean . . . for you." His lips twitched in a slight, brief smile. "I know how you miss him. And worry."
Minerva beamed at him. "Thank you, Severus." Her eyes filled with sudden tears. "You are making progress . . . and I know it is hard, and I will never be able to know exactly how hard, especially when you have to leave here and . . . do what you must do. But I hope that you are having some little amount of satisfaction in your life that has not been there before."
Severus nodded curtly. "Yes. Perhaps. There is a different quality to my life. A certain . . . calm." He looked at her intently. "I owe that to you, Minerva. Entirely. And to Albus, as well, indirectly. And not just because of what occurred in September and the assistance you gave me then, but all that you have done before and since. Thank you. I will do all I can to repay you and to come to deserve all that you have given me."
"I am sure you are already deserving. But you are welcome. I am glad you are working on it. I am very proud of you."
Two weeks after that conversation, Severus made his decision to tell Minerva all that Albus would not. He could not carry through on the Vow, and yet if Albus was unprepared for that, that would be disastrous, as well. He could not act unilaterally, as much as he wished to. And Minerva not only deserved to know what was being planned, but she might be the only one who could persuade Albus to make alternative preparations and to begin taking the improved potions. He knew what happened to messengers, bearers of bad news, and he knew, too, that he himself would appear to have made a colossally large error in making the Vow, regardless of why he had done so. Minerva would be upset with him, possibly angry beyond any healing, but Severus was willing to take that risk. She may have forgiven him his past sins, grave as they had been, but this was an act of an entirely different quality. He had no doubt that Minerva loved Albus too much to remain irretrievably angry with him; she would likely redirect any residual anger at him—if there was one thing that Severus understood well, it was redirected anger.
He never should have taken the Vow, whether Albus had desired it or not. Of course, neither of them had been prepared for precisely that turn of events—but Albus had said to do whatever he had to in order to get into Bella's and Narcissa's good graces and, most importantly, to protect Draco from the Dark Lord. Taking the Unbreakable Vow had seemed both unavoidable and in accord with Dumbledore's wishes. If only there hadn't been that last provision. . . . And Severus had been doubly angry when he learned that Albus had strongly suspected, to the point of practical certainty, what Draco's task would be as soon as he learned of the Vow.
And so on Boxing Day, Severus prepared to destroy two friendships. The only friendships he still had, unless one included Lupin's regular attempts at socialising with him. "Only two of us left, Sev," Lupin had said in a drunken state the week before; it was a sign of Severus's increased tolerance—or soft-headedness—that he hadn't hexed Lupin for shortening his name. "Just the two of us . . ." Severus also forbore mentioning that out of the forty students in their year, surely at least half of them were still alive. Of course, many of them were Death Eaters, and Severus didn't mention that, either.
Ready to surrender, Severus prepared for Minerva's arrival, Occluding and awaiting the winds of Fate to tear from him those shreds of peace whose ephemeral tatters he had only so recently found.
Author's Note: For those who haven't read An Act of Love, or for whom it has been a while, here's a quotation from Albus in the third chapter of that story that somewhat describes the Actus Adfectus Amor Verissimus spell that hit Severus in September 1996:
"From the research I was able to fit in today, it seems as though one can—theoretically, at least—have more than one 'true love' in one's life, and that in the case of this spell, 'true love' refers to a love that is of a lasting, abiding nature. Even if Severus were to go on and find another love, perhaps even another 'true love,' his love for you would never leave him. I believe that is why the spell does not wear off by itself. The kinds of emotions that the other Adfectus spells are aimed at are, for the most part, of a more ephemeral, fleeting nature—such as jealousy, desire, lust, hatred, anger, and loyalty—and although loyalty and hatred can come very close to having the same lasting quality, even the greatest loyalty and the strongest hatred can wane or be eclipsed in a way that true love cannot. . . ."
NEXT: Chapter Two, Faith in their hands shall snap in two. Snape undertakes an unpleasant task. (Boxing Day, 1996) Characters: Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape.