Shadow and Darkness

When the mad chaos of his thoughts had subsided a bit, Snape found himself sitting at the kitchen table, clutching a cup of tea and vaguely recalling that Potter had placed him there with a stern advice to 'relax a bit'.

Really, who was the patient here?

But whatever objections Snape might have about the situation on principle, he had to admit that the graveyard memory had disturbed him – more than the realization of Potter's abuse through his relatives, more even than the image of Dumbledore crouching behind the pillar in Potter's first year.

He wasn't sure what caused his painful reaction – having to watch Voldemort's resurrection? The knowledge that a mere child had dared what none of the self declared 'superior purebloods' had ever even thought of? Or was it the fact that once more Dumbledore's manipulative nature had been revealed? Not that he accepted Potter's explanation blindly, of course, but it was worrisome to realize that he couldn't disregard it completely, however much he wanted to.

When he had finally quietened his thoughts and relaxed enough to actually drink the tea, not just hold onto the cup as an anchor to reality, he made his way to the living room, where he found a completely relaxed Potter, stretched out on his sofa and with a muggle paperback novel of all things in his hands, which seemed to fascinate him deeply.

He looked up questioningly when Snape stepped through the doorway.

"How are you feeling?" He asked with his usual polite interest, and didn't seem to mind the grunt Snape uttered instead of a reply.

"Stiller, by Max Frisch," He then said, pointing at the novel, as if he honestly expected Snape to be interested in his reading habits. "I'm concentrating on German writers this year. Did you ever read anything by him? He's rather brilliant, although I believe his style can be much better appreciated in his…"

"Why do you think Dumbledore didn't want me to respect you," Snape interrupted, not bothering with politeness and knowing Potter well enough by now to be sure that he wouldn't mind. "If I remember correctly, he used to spend hours and hours with lecturing me about the importance of leaving the past behind and realizing that you were not your father."

Potter nodded, as if acknowledging a valid point, and closed his novel carefully, placing it on a small table besides the sofa.

"That's certainly true," He agreed. "But has he ever, in all those years, tried to actually change your opinion? I can speak only for myself, of course," He continued hastily. "But I remember quite clearly that he never gave me any reason for the need to trust you, and the only detail about your past he felt necessary to offer was that about your near-encounter with Remus, which, after all, wouldn't serve very much to heighten my affection to you."

He smiled, and tilted his head in an innocent way that seemed to indicate a naïve surprise. "Which is strange, really, since he knew well enough how much I hated bullies. All he would have had to tell me thus was the fact that the Marauder's picked on you whenever they could."

He shrugged. "At least that fact was enough in fifth year for me to question both Sirius and Remus, changing my view on my father quite a lot along the way. But perhaps he has told you things about me that would decrease your dislike?" He asked, just as innocently. "About my family life, perhaps? Or about the fact that the first family being friendly to me were Gryffindors, thus motivating me to choose Gryffindor as my own house? No? I didn't think so," He answered his own question lightly, even amusedly.

Snape remained silent. He didn't feel like entering into one of their little arguments now, especially not since Potter was absolutely right. With the things Snape had found out by now, it would have been impossible for him not to mellow towards the little first year. And still, Albus had done nothing but to increase the antagonistic feelings between them.

He shook his head, refusing to ponder these thoughts when there was so much real work to do, and as if Potter had only waited for this sign, he rose from the sofa and offered Snape another of his friendly, serene smiles.

"Shall we return to the pensieve, then?" He asked. "After all, time is a-flying."

They worked through two more memories before it was time for dinner, both taking place in Potter's fifth year, both concerned with visions of Potter. The experience left Snape feeling slightly sick.

It had turned out that the visions, unlike dementor attacks, were no invisible things for Snape, and the view of the giant Nagini attacking Arthur Weasley had been enough to quell Snape's appetite. But he had promised himself to make his patient eat regular meals, and if it took a guest at his table to make Potter comply that seemed a small enough price for Snape to pay.

One reading on Potter's energy levels after dinner convinced Snape that they wouldn't attempt the next memory tonight – if his chronology wasn't wrong that would mean the Ministry and the Hall of Prophecy.

Which also meant Sirius Black's untimely death and Potter's next confrontation with Voldemort. Not the sort of thing to be tackled by a man tired and stressed already.

Which was why Snape, with the commanding voice more than a decade of teaching had helped him developed, ordered Potter to bed, attaching several humiliating threats to the order just in case of.

He could barely refrain from telling the other man that he wasn't to read late into the night, but he found with relief that he still had enough dignity to prevent that.

Thank the Gods.

But Potter only grinned, and nodded, and wished him a good night, answering with an order not to 'work too hard' which Snape didn't grace with a reaction.

He spent a good ten minutes going through the kitchen's storage room and deciding that he would have to organize some better way of feeding them – it was madness to let Potter waste his strength and time on cooking, no matter how much the man seemed to enjoy it.

When he had fixed himself another pot of tea and decided that there was still enough food left for the next day, he returned to the potions lab, to work on a little theory of his.

He was painfully aware that no potion could stop or even slow the development of Potter's illness. But the energizing potions he had administered the day before had caused him to wonder whether boosting Potter's energy level wasn't a viable approach to increasing his patient's resistance.

After all, every day might matter to them.

He was bent deeply over his notes, so lost in thought that the velvety voice in his back took him completely by surprise.

"Master Snape," The voice greeted him, and before its tone had registered with Snape, he had already whirled around and pointed his wand as the possible threat.

But it was only Shadow.

Only, his brain whispered as it caught up with the events. You're talking about the Prince of Vampires here.

"My Lord," He answered quickly, and re-sheathed his wand, although for a moment he was badly tempted to compare the Prince with another meddlesome guest that didn't bother to knock.

Not a good idea, that.

He bowed, a short inclination of his head, since it was now his home the noble guest had come to. That thought, the fact that he had considered Potter's house home, if only in questions of etiquette, again made his mind stumble and stutter, and a myriad of absolutely inappropriate things to say popped into his consciousness.

He settled for the least inappropriate one.

"Potter told me you usually didn't leave your house alone," He said, not phrasing it as a question. It was bad manners to ask your guest about anything but his journey and health.

"Oh, but I am not alone," Shadow replied silkily. "Twenty of my best and oldest vampires are with me."

He smiled, a sudden flash of white teeth amid dark red lips. "It was quite difficult to decide whom I was to leave behind, this time. They all wanted to see Harry."

"I see," Snape answered quietly, wondering how he felt about twenty-one vampires who had entered the house without him noticing. "I assume Harry gave you full access to his house?" He asked, being sure of the answer before he saw Shadow's smile widen.

"We are his friends after all," The Prince replied with a knowing smile.

"Of course," Snape said, not even feeling resigned. In Potter-Land, this answer made complete sense. And he had been lost in Potter-Land for far too long now to not have the madness rub off on him.

He knew that he should have been worried that, right now, they were walking in on a sleeping, defenceless Potter, but somehow he wasn't. He had seen them together, after all, and somehow, the word 'defenceless' wasn't one that he could attach to Potter successfully.

But what surprised him even more was the fact that he wasn't worried overmuch for himself, either. Sure, he was in the presence of one of the oldest dark creatures that was dangerous enough without its rather spectacular mood swings, but after all he had a tattoo, hadn't he?

And that was another of those thoughts which would only make sense in Potter-Land.

Shadow's smile deepened even more, as if he could read Snape's convoluted thoughts. And who knew, perhaps he could.

"How is he, then?" Shadow now asked, leaning against the workbench in a nonchalant gesture, his presence and aura turning the potions lab into a dark palace.

Without even considering to lie or leave out things, Snape told the Prince about the last few days, the memories he had seen and the meeting with Dumbledore, the seizure during last night's memory, and Potter's plan to destroy his own soul.

He wondered for a moment why he felt no qualms to inform one of the darkest creatures on earth in detail, but tricksed and half-truthed his way through the letters of Dumbledore. Potter-Land, he then thought and shrugged inwardly.

Shadow's face remained impassive throughout most of the long tale, only when Snape told him of the way Dumbledore had tried to use the Order meeting room to his advantage did he bare his teeth and hiss in a way that reminded Snape of Nagini.

His face was stony when he heard about Potter's plan, and even stonier when Snape told him of the progress the illness had made.

"I see," He finally whispered, a deadly caress that crawled down Snape's spine. "And how are you, Master Snape?"

That question took him by surprise, and the insinuation in it hit close enough home that Snape didn't even think before answering it.

"I don't know," He said truthfully. "Around Potter, my state of mind seems to change quicker than my thoughts can follow."

Shadow nodded and relaxed even further, as if the question had been some sort of strange test. Snape only hoped he had passed.

"One of Harry's many gifts," The vampire agreed. "To turn one's world upside down. But frustrating as it must be for you, it isn't always bad. New perspectives are born this way, and new paths are built."

"I know," Snape answered, and found to his own wonder that this answer was truthful, too. "But he still drives me mad."

"Which is a sure sign of his presence," Shadow agreed again, then let the silence between them.

"He told me about Kinnairds Head," Snape finally continued, not because he felt the need to break this strange, companionable silence, but because he wanted to.

Shadow just nodded. "I knew he would," He said quietly. "And I'm sure you will find out more about his past than any of us know before this is over."

Now that was an encouraging idea, Snape thought darkly. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was further contact with Potter's world and past.

"I just don't understand him," He growled suddenly, his frustration rising to the surface.

"Oh, but I'm sure you do," Shadow disagreed mildly. "You just don't yet dare admit it to yourself. But once you have assembled all the parts of the puzzle, you will know him better than I ever could."

For a moment, Snape bristled, a caustic remark on the tip of the tongue. He didn't accept that sort of second hand wisdom from anybody, not even from Albus. But then he remembered to whom he was talking, and that Shadow had lived more than a few human lifetimes and snorted bitterly instead.

"Did you talk to Ayda?" He asked, and was rewarded with a roguish grin that reminded him very much of Potter. Only that Potter didn't look as if he wanted to eat you when he grinned like this.

The combination of sharp teeth and boyish amusement really was frightening.

"I have no idea why you ask that," Shadow deadpanned, then straightened from the place where he had leaned.

"It is time for me to greet Harry, I think," He announced and walked, no, glided, to the door of the lab. "He must get his sleep, after all."

He was nearly through the door when he turned around once more, and the sudden seriousness in his voice shook Snape's composure more than his smiles had.

"I did talk to many people over the last days, Master Snape," He said quietly. "And we all agree that in the end you will do the right thing for Harry. We trust you."

Now what the hell is that supposed to mean, Snape thought dazedly as he followed the Prince through the kitchen into the living room, where a wild assembly of vampires was crowding around Potter, who was sitting on the sofa with a lopsided smile, his expression changing from real pleasure about his visitors to downright frustration at their behaviour.

It seemed that Shadow had finally told them about Potter's condition, and the amounts of arguments about what to do rivalled the offers of food, water or blood towards Potter. It appeared that the vampires couldn't decide whether to feed or turn him.

Rescue me, Potter's eyes seemed to tell him, and Snape could see a lingering weariness beneath the amused smile.

Now there, he thought, You can read Potter well enough. Only not when he is concerned with you.

Although he wasn't quite sure how to fulfil Potter's silent wish. One didn't treat immortals like a bunch of first years, after all. Or at least, Snape didn't.

"What do you think you're doing," Shadow thundered before Snape could even open his mouth. "Bustling around Harry like a herd of hens! Out with you! Wait for me in the garden!"

Alhtough reluctance stood clear in their faces, the vampires obeyed their leader. From all sides hands were touching Potter, voices were whispering good wishes and faces were contorted in obvious sadness. One man even seemed to be crying. Then they were gone, only the murmur of their melodious voices to remind the living room's inhabitants of their existence.

"Thank you, Shadow," Potter said, obviously much relieved.

The Prince just waved his words away. "I trust you sleep and eat enough?" He asked sternly and Potter chuckled, sending a look towards Snape that said nothing but See? You're just like him!

"Professor Snape is making sure that I do," He answered.

Shadow nodded. "You chose well," He said quietly, and it took Snape longer than a moment to realize that the Prince of vampires had just paid him a compliment.

"I know," Potter answered.

Silence. Then Shadow sighed, and a tired confusion settled on his face that made him almost look human for a moment.

"My people want me to turn you," He said. "In fact, one or two of them mentioned the possibility that they themselves would rescue your life if I decided to remain unreasonable.

Now it was Potter who was waving words away like bothersome flies.

"I know you too well not to believe you would respect my wishes," He answered softly. "You know that I could never become one of you."

Suddenly, he grinned. "And I also know too much about your leading style not to feel pity for those poor ones that try to sneak back here."

"Nevertheless," Shadow said. "Will you reactivate the vampire wards on your grounds once we are gone? There are too many of my followers that love you. One of them might slip through my fingers."

Potter was quiet for a long moment, his face hidden in shadows. Then, he nodded.

"I will miss you," He whispered, and Snape realized that he witnessed an ending, a goodbye between two men as close as family, no matter how many years lay between them.

"Whatever happens to you, Harry, I will carry your memory through the centuries to come," Shadow promised, his voice fierce in its determination. "No vampire will ever forget you."

Slowly, Potter stood from the sofa and walked towards Shadow. Their embrace was long, and it had the sort of finality that closed off paths to the future and opened new, bleaker ones.

At last, Shadow stepped away from Potter and nodded solemnly. He inclined his head towards Snape. Then he was gone.

0o0o0

A/N: The idea of Potter-Land, in which Snape is lost, is taken from the TV-series "Monk". There it is used under completely different circumstances, but stealing is stealing, after all.

A bit of a transitory chapter, but the next one will have the Ministry, Voldemort and more things Snape never knew. Review!