CHAPTER SEVEN
"What," Harry asked, "does that story have to do with you wanting to see my grandmother?"
He watched in fascination as Snape began to fume where he sat, black eyes glittering with feverish fury.
"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but if you don't want to hear about my past, then I'd suggest you do your homework." Snape sniped. "Lupin is the only one who is required to be here for 'therapy' sessions."
"But I -" Frustrated with impatience, Harry could barely string together a thought that wouldn't put Snape in an even fouler mood.
"Make yourself quiet and attentive, or make yourself scarce. Which would you prefer?" After Harry crossed his arms over his chest and made no move to speak, Snape seemed to calm down. "Thank you. I'll have you know that the events of my childhood greatly impacted my adult life, and is what motivated me to ask for your grandmother's presence in all of my drunken glory."
"What night was that, anyway?" Remus asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.
Snape glared at Lupin. "If I'm to divulge my thought-process and feelings," he sneered, "then it will be at my own pace."
The werewolf held up his hands slightly, shaking his head. "As you will, Severus. Please, do go on."
The Slytherin crossed his arms over his chest, and looked thoughtfully at the wall for a moment. "My mother thought that I was... a squib. Until that point in my life, I had shown not one iota of accidental magic, despite the caution that my parents employed. It should be noted that while Muggle-born witches and wizards have often successfully bred magically-adept children with purebloods, unions of muggles and purebloods often result in squibs."
"Why -"
"It's genetics, Mr. Potter." Snape's voice was laden with irritation. "The ability to use magic is an entirely recessive trait. Purebloods that produce children with purebloods will certainly have children capable of using magic, unless otherwise deformed by inbreeding. Most muggles do not possess the recessive gene."
"But my mum... my mum was a witch, and she was Muggle born."
"It's rare that Muggles carry the gene," Remus said gently, "but it can happen. And when two Muggles with the gene have children, there is a chance of a witch or wizard being born to them. Just like two squibs can potentially produce a magically capable child."
"I... guess that makes sense." Harry nodded slightly. "But if that's the case, and it all happens naturally, then why is Voldemort so obsessed with blood purity?"
"I can only assume because those around him are obsessed with it." Snape shrugged. "When I was a boy, Potter, I was constantly teased due to my heritage. Muggle children didn't like me because my father was the overseer in the factory, and my mother was 'odd' to them. My peers at Hogwarts didn't like me because I was a... how did Black phrase it? 'Greasy little half-blood know-it-all,' I believe was his choice of words."
Remus didn't correct him.
"Whatever finally drove him over the edge, I can assure you, in the end it was the sense of not belonging anywhere."
"I felt that way, when I first got on the Hogwarts Express my first year." Harry murmured.
"While I'm certain that you were uncomfortable with the unfamiliar surroundings," Snape growled, "I am also certain that you were accepted into many social circles simply for the scar on your head. Just as I am also quite positive that you, unlike the Dark Lord, had friends who were and are as close to you as your parents undoubtedly would be, had they survived." Snape seemed to sense Harry's frustration. "As much as I would like to continue this debate, we've strayed drastically from the topic at hand." He cleared his throat. "As I said, my mother thought that I was a squib, and when I first saw your mother that day in the park, I feared that I was one, too. I couldn't imagine living the rest of my life as a muggle, because I had never experienced muggle life outside of my grandfather's home. So I went back to the park every day, hoping to see Lily's magic enough that perhaps I could figure out how to do it myself. The things she did – flying through the air, or causing flowers to dance – were things that I had never imagined before, and things that I had little care for."
Harry could hear the unspoken jealousy in Snape's dark voice.
"I was the first person to tell Lily that she was a witch." The professor shook his head, closed his eyes and grimaced. "It was... a disaster. Both she and her sister thought I was calling her names. It took several encounters to convince Lily that I was telling her the truth. Petunia didn't like your mother talking to me. She decided to spy on us, and startled me. My first accidental magic was a branch falling to hit her on the shoulder."
"W-what?" Harry was incredulous. Aunt Petunia had always been something of a snoop – always concerned with what the neighbors were doing and why – but now Harry was starting to see perhaps why she had abhorred magic throughout his childhood. Perhaps it wasn't jealousy of her sister's magic, but fear of what the magic of strangers could do to her.
"I didn't hurt her." Snape said defensively. "It barely even touched her."
"If she was anything like the girl I knew at school, I imagine that Lily wasn't very pleased with you." Remus remarked darkly.
"No. No, she wasn't." Snape replied tersely. "She didn't believe that I couldn't control it – and why should she have? I'd let her believe that I'd done magic before. She must have thought I had as much control over my magic as she did hers."
He wasn't sure what was more surprising – that Snape was voluntarily revealing his imperfections, or the look of pure devastation on his face. Harry had never seen the man look so... human.
"She didn't talk to me for weeks. I don't know that she ever would have, if not for those cruel children..."
TBC