Light on the Dark Side of Me

Title: Light on the Dark Side of Me
Author: CocoaSnape
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs exclusively to JKR…she is a goddess. I am making no money from this.


Light on the Dark Side of Me
Chapter 17: Maybe if I’m lucky

The next morning, Harry awoke later than he had wanted – the potion Dumbledore had given him had worked too well. He rushed into the Great Hall for Saturday morning brunch, and his heart sank as he stared once again at the empty chair belonging to Severus Snape. Dumbledore was there, however, and as Harry took his seat, he looked up hopefully at the Headmaster. Dumbledore smiled at Harry, meeting his eyes. Suddenly, Harry heard Dumbledore’s voice clearly in his head, although Dumbledore’s lips were not moving.

Good morning Harry. Come see me in my office after you’ve eaten please. Oh, and be sure to try the apricot biscuits. They are excellent!

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Harry rushed in to see Dumbledore after scarfing down his breakfast. “Did you see him last night, is he alright sir?”

“Sit down Harry, please. Rest assured, Professor Snape isn’t in any danger and your lessons with him will resume on Monday.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, but asked his question anyway. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“I cannot reveal to you what we discussed, Harry. But suffice it to say that it was substantial. I have arranged for him to see you and you may go by there after our meeting.”

Noting Harry’s look of excitement, Dumbledore cautioned him, “Do not be surprised, Harry, if he is not happy to see you.”

“Does he hate me for coming to see you last night?”

“No, he does not. But I’m certain you can understand that he is angry for what you saw in your dream…this is, after all, a very personal thing that Severus is going through,” Dumbledore said with marked sadness in his eyes.

“Of course, sir. I understand. Thank you, sir.”

Harry made his way towards the door, wondering if he should share the revelation he had come to last night as he had made his way back to Gryffindor tower from Dumbledore’s office. Stopping abruptly, Harry turned around and said forcefully, “I’m in love with him, sir.”

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly in his chair, his blue eyes studying Harry carefully, almost as if he were trying to determine if Harry was telling the truth or perhaps wondering if he was insane. Harry was surprised that Dumbledore was no longer smiling, his expression was filled with, strangely enough, concern.

“That is a very serious thing to say, Harry. There is a difference, you know, between caring for someone, loving them even, and being in love with them.”

“Yes, I know, sir. I didn’t know before, not really. But now I finally understand the difference, because I’m in love with Prof…with Severus. And he won’t even talk to me,” Harry said with exasperation.

“Harry, here is my best advice to you and I would strongly advise you to heed it.”

Harry listened closely. He needed all the help he could get.

Dumbledore continued, his eyes peering over his half-mooned spectacles, “Be patient.”

“Patient?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

“Yes Harry. There is a time for action and there is a time to wait. And now is the time for the latter. Do not let yourself get frustrated. It may take a very long time Harry, but I would suggest you let Severus decide when he is ready to speak to you. Keep your relationship entirely professional until then.”

“But Professor…”

Dumbledore interrupted him. His eyes lacked the usual twinkle, and he spoke in an uncharacteristically serious tone, “Harry, listen to me very carefully. I know Severus very well. You would not do well to push him on this.”

“Right, sir. Thank you.”

“Goodbye Harry.”
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Harry made his way down to the dungeons. He kept repeating Dumbledore’s words of advice in his head like a mantra. Be patient. Don’t push him. This was going to be very hard indeed, Harry realized. Remember, you promised him you would never mention what you saw ever again.

Just as Dumbledore had promised, the Snape’s dungeon wards granted him immediate entrance.

“Hello Professor,” Harry said as formally as he could muster. “It’s good to see you. Ooh…nice couch!”

Snape looked somewhat annoyed. “Ah yes. That is the Headmaster’s doing.” He pointed his wand at the couch, which quickly transformed back into the straight-backed chair Harry was familiar with.

Harry was about to speak, but Snape cut him off. “Mr. Potter, listen to me carefully because I am only going to say this once. I understand you were worried about me, but I assure you there was no need. I am perfectly fine. Now, I am continuing these lessons with you at the Headmaster’s urging, but if I find you are delinquent in your studies or if you are at all distracted, I shall cancel them altogether. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. Staring at Snape for a moment, there was so much Harry wanted to say. I’m so sorry that I had that dream; I didn’t mean to see those things. Did you speak with Dumbledore about what happened? Is there anything I can do? I love you Severus. But he heeded Dumbledore’s advice. “Thank you for seeing me, sir,” Harry added and turned to leave. He was stopped by Snape’s voice.

“And Mr. Potter…”

“Yes?” Harry replied hopefully.

“I expect decent marks from you on my midterm on Monday. I can’t help it that you’ve squandered your reading period sitting outside my door. You are dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry turned around and walked out of the dungeons, realizing that he had a lot of studying to do.
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“Snape’s not in a good mood today,” Hermione whispered in double Potions.

“When is Snape not in a foul mood?” Ron asked incredulously.

“He’s been particularly grumpy since exams though. Don’t you think, Harry?”

Harry, who was studying Snape carefully, snapped his concentration back to his friends, “Hmm…oh…I don’t know.”

But Harry knew Hermione was right. It had been three weeks since Snape’s encounter with Voldemort and he was even more unpleasant to be around than usual. Of course, Harry had been expecting that – after all, the man had gone through hell. Over the last few weeks, Snape had taken every opportunity to insult Harry’s progress in their lessons – or better put, lack of progress. Occlumency had become a complete disaster. Harry was too worried about Snape to concentrate, and his abilities had deteriorated significantly as a result.

Unfortunately, Harry had fared no better with some of the new spell work Snape had introduced to him over the past few days, which involved their first foray into dark magic. The spells were fairly rudimentary – or so Snape had said – but Harry just couldn’t get past the idea of using negative emotions to perform magic, which was what these spells required. Snape had been completely disgusted with him. In frustration, Harry had snapped at Snape, ‘Why do I have to learn this anyway? No one else has to learn this stuff. In fact, it’s probably forbidden.’ Snape had shot Harry a murderous glare but remained silent, and had just sent him away.

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and finished his Potion. He was quite pleased with himself. It appeared that his potion was as good as Hermione’s – the two best in the room. His increased efforts in Potions were certainly paying off.

Snape stalked about the room, carefully examining each student’s work. He approached Ron’s potion, which was the wrong color altogether.

“Not bad, Mr. Weasley. I wouldn’t dare use it, but not bad.”

He examined Harry’s carefully. “A sound effort, Potter, but once again, pathetic results.”

Harry was not going to stand for yet another unfair insult, “What do you mean, Professor? Mine’s no worse than anyone else’s.”

Snape leaned over the desk, putting his face just inches away from Harry’s. With a menacing glare, he whispered, “You are assuming – incorrectly, as you often do – that I hold everyone to the same standard. Do you think that’s what I should do, Potter? That sounds fair, doesn’t it? Does the world hold you to same standard as everyone else?” Snape continued, spitting vehemently, “Wake up Potter, if you hope to live past 17!” Snape moved to the front of the room and sat at his desk.

Harry sat in stunned silence as he let the meaning of Snape’s words sink in. He couldn’t believe the man was actually trying to teach him a lesson, and not just insult him.

“Oh and Potter…detention tonight, for your cheek.” Harry started to sigh but was interrupted with, “And don’t bother with dinner. I want you in my office right after classes let out. Can you handle scrubbing cauldrons, Potter, or does that task offend your ridiculous sensibilities as well?” Snape sneered.

“No, sir.”

Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered, “What did you do to piss him off mate?”

“I exist,” Harry said.
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After his classes were over, Harry hurried to the dungeons. He did not want to risk annoying Snape any more than he already had. Entering the office, he made his way straight to the pile of dirty cauldrons.

“Forget the cauldrons, Potter. I have much better methods for torturing you. Get in here now,” Harry heard Snape order from the sitting room.

Harry spent the next two hours at Snape’s mercy. Occlumency was hard enough when Snape was in an amiable mood, but it was hell when Snape was angry. By the end of it, Harry’s brain felt like mush. He stretched down on the sitting room couch, closed his eyes, and was startled by a loud pop. One of the house elves had brought him dinner, apparently on Snape’s instructions.

“Sir, may I ask a question?”

No answer came. Harry continued, “I noticed you didn’t use the Pensieve tonight. Is there a reason?”

“The Headmaster needs it, Potter. He has been without it long enough. We will have to make due without it.”

“Why don’t you have one of your own, sir?”

Snape snorted, “Don’t you think that if I could just go to Diagon Alley and buy one, I would have a long time ago? They are exceptionally rare, Potter. Think boy, before you speak. When you’re finished, you may see yourself out.” Turning on his heel, Snape made his way to his bedroom.
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Harry woke up many hours later, having fallen asleep on Snape’s couch. Noticing that it was past midnight, he moved to get up, remembering he had Quidditch practice early tomorrow morning. He was interrupted, however, by the sound of Snape’s bedroom door opening. Snape strode out into the sitting room, fully dressed, a note in his hand. He sent it through the floo, saying clearly, “Albus Dumbledore.” Harry realized in horror what was going on.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked.

Snape whirled around. “What are you still doing here?”

“I fell asleep. You’ve been called, haven’t you?” Harry asked, fearing the answer.

“That’s none of your business,” Snape responded coolly.

The idea of Snape going back there – back to Voldemort after what had happened – it was impossible to imagine and Harry could not keep silent. “Yes it is. Please Severus—”

“What did you just call me?” Snape snapped.

“I’m sorry…Professor. I’m just worried. Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back?”

Snape looked down at his hands. They were trembling slightly – the very thought of seeing all those faces again made him want to throw up. Of course it wasn’t wise to go back. It was idiotic, and he had to do it. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

“I do what I must, Potter. Now go to bed – and be very clear…I don’t want to see you until Monday.”

“But sir, he could kill you!” Harry pleaded.

“Maybe…if I’m lucky,” Snape muttered under his breath.

“Sir, but—”

Snape did not let Harry finish. He hissed at Harry, his eyes full of fury, “Enough! My work for the Order is none of your business. My meetings with the Dark Lord are none of your business. I am none of your business. Is that understood?”

Harry nodded and left.
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Despite Snape’s strong words of warning, the next morning Harry made his way straight to Snape’s quarters to check on him. He knew it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but he couldn’t help himself. He was dismayed, however, to find the dungeons empty. He dashed hurriedly to the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping Snape was already there. But he wasn’t, and Harry noticed that Dumbledore was absent as well. He wondered if something had happened to Snape, but realized there was little he could do except wait until Monday to find out if Snape was alright – a long time indeed.
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Harry had never been so happy to have double Potions early on a Monday morning. He sat at his desk, anxiously waiting for Snape to enter.

Hermione interrupted his thoughts, “Harry are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Harry shook his head dismissively, and then heard footsteps in the back of the classroom. He didn’t even need to turn around; he would know that distinctive walk anywhere. Harry’s body went limp with relief as Snape strode in, apparently unharmed. Harry sunk his head in his hands and let out an involuntary sigh of relief that sounded very much like a sob. Everyone looked at him. Malfoy smirked, waiting eagerly for Snape’s scathing remark or the deduction of house points. No such response came.

Snape began the lesson without so much as looking in Harry’s direction. Despite the fact that Harry wasn’t paying attention to his potion, Snape didn’t single him out once or attempt to embarrass him. In fact, Snape completely ignored Harry, who began to wonder what was going on. Just before the lesson ended, Snape dropped a note on Harry’s desk. Harry opened it and it read simply, ‘No lesson tonight.’

Now Harry was curious. After finishing up his homework that evening, he decided to go down and check on Snape. It was already past curfew, so he took his invisibility cloak with him. When he entered the office, he could hear loud crashing noises in the sitting room and decided to quietly investigate. Putting his cloak on once again, he peered through the door and was more than a little surprised to see Snape throwing various objects at his wall. A large pile of shattered glass lay all over the floor. Snape appeared to be quite unsteady on his feet, and he was holding a near empty bottle of scotch in his hand. Snape is drunk! This was most certainly not the Severus Snape Harry knew. In shock, Harry quietly slipped out, not wanting to intrude any more than he already had.

Over the next three weeks, Snape barely spoke to Harry. In fact, he scarcely spared him a glance. He had even canceled their Occlumency lessons, supposedly to give Harry a chance to ‘catch up on his reading.’ So Harry spent most of his evening lessons reading on the couch in the sitting room with Snape working in his office or laboratory. Given their lack of communication, Snape also had given up his usual chore of dismissing Harry for the night, and as a result Harry would sometimes fall asleep on the couch, occasionally awakening to Snape’s piercing stare, which was usually Harry’s cue to leave.

One night in particular, however, Snape had gone to bed early, with a bottle of scotch in tow. Harry awoke this time to a piercing scream. He jumped to his feet with a start and was surprised when he realized that the noise had come from Snape’s bedroom. Snape had been casting a silencing charm of late before going to bed, but Harry surmised that he must have been too drunk to remember.

Harry crept up to Snape’s bedroom door and listened. He heard Snape repeatedly whimpering something unintelligible. And then suddenly Snape was screaming, that same horrible shrill sound Harry had heard in his nightmare vision – that sound which had been indelibly ingrained in his mind now sent icy shivers down his spine. Without warning the sound stopped and Harry could hear Snape moving around, knocking something over and then the more distant sound of retching.

Harry stood frozen in the doorway. He wanted nothing more than to burst into that room and do…something! But what? He had no idea what was going on and Snape had told him in no uncertain terms that, whatever it was, it was none of his business. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry made his way back to Gryffindor tower.

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A/N: Well, it has been a long time since I've posted, but it seems the site is finally back up and running. I hope there are still devoted people out there.

Please review and let me know you're still reading and your opinions on the fic. Enjoy.