Needfire

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.


beautifully wandering in merciful
miracles wonderingly celebrate day
and welcome earth\'s arrival with a soul...


-- from\"might these be thrushes climbing through almost \"

-- e.e.cummings


Chapter 34 - Empty Vessels


The sun was setting in a bloody and glorious sky when Snape and Lucius arrived from nowhere at the front gates of Hogwarts castle. Snape staggered as the ground came up beneath him. It seemed he had lost control of his muscles, somehow. He had lost coordination and grace.

His magic was gone.

He could feel that it was gone. Always before in his life there had been a sense of confidence; of capability, of strength of will. Now...now, he felt as though he needed to be told what to do next, which foot to put in front of the other, when to blink, where to look. How to think. What to think.

He went to his knees, even with Lucius\' hand on his arm dragging him upright.

\"Please kill me, Lucius,\" he whispered. \"I can\'t live like this.\"

Lucius gave a hard yank to Snape\'s arm and pivoted to sneer down at him, gripping Snape\'s sharp chin in his hand. Snape could feel the coldness of the signet ring against his neck. \"As if I\'d kill you now, you idiot, when the bastard did just what I wanted him to do. The whole fucking point was for you to stay alive. The only better outcome would have been that spell backfiring on Voldemort, but since it didn\'t, I\'ll just have to be satisfied enough.\"

\"He has my magic,\" Snape moaned.

\"And you have your life. That counts for something, don\'t you think?\" His booted foot swung at Snape\'s thigh. \"Get up. No more self-pity, you miserable, sniveling worm! You disgrace the name of Slytherin.\"

\"I\'m no better than a Muggle. Salazar would be ashamed.\"

\"Get up. I\'m taking you to Dumbledore.\"

\"There\'s no point...\"

\"There\'s every point. Do you think that just because your wand is broken that you cannot be of use? Get up, Snape! Teach my son what he needs to know in the days to come. Keep him safe. I cannot be here and you know it. And I won\'t take Draco out of here...it\'s the safest place for him until the Dark Lord decides to show his cards. I\'ll come for Draco when it\'s time.\"

Snape struggled to his feet. He stumbled in Lucius\' wake as the blond led him toward the front doors, and then down the stone hallways to Dumbledore\'s office; it surprised him somewhat that Lucius was so familiar with the route, never hesitating.

\"Open up, old man!\" Lucius called, rapping sharply on the doorframe of the office. Snape, feeling like he could not even hold himself upright, slumped against the wall for support.

The door opened, but there was not the usual friendly voice bidding entry. Instead, Dumbledore stood just inside the opened door, his wand at the ready. His eyes glittered, but not with their familiar blue twinkle. No, this was a cold look; a look very like the one Snape had seen the night he was sacked. \"What brings you here, Mr Malfoy?\"

\"I\'ve brought you your spy. Voldemort has no further use for him.\" Lucius took Snape by the arm and shoved him towards Dumbledore. \"He performed the Transfundo potentia on Snape.\"

Dumbledore\'s quickly indrawn breath told Snape all he needed to know. \"That is a powerful spell,\" said the headmaster.

\"He\'s a powerful wizard,\" Lucius confirmed. \"I\'ve done as he asked. Brought you this empty vessel. You owe him a safe harbour, Dumbledore.\" The blond held out the broken pieces of Snape\'s wand; when Dumbledore did not take them, he let them fall to the floor. Lucius spun on his heel and strode away, heels clicking on the stone. Snape watched him go, and when he was out of sight, Snape turned to Dumbledore.

The bearded wizard looked deep into Snape\'s eyes for a long, long moment. \"Yes,\" he said, slowly. \"It\'s gone, I can see that. I\'ve only seen this once before.\"

\"Flamel,\" said Snape, lifelessly.

\"Indeed. He took the magic from Grindelwald\'s second in command, during that War. It\'s part of what allowed us to defeat Grindelwald in the end. I dislike much the idea that Voldemort has absorbed your strength, Severus. Come, let me take you to Poppy.\"

\"There\'s nothing Poppy can do,\" said Snape. He resisted the arm that came around his shoulder to lead him to the infirmary. \"What I want most...\"

\"What is that?\"

\"To die. Help me die, Albus. There\'s nothing inside me any longer. I...I don\'t want to live like this.\"

Dumbledore laughed in his face. Laughed. \"My dear boy, I would no more do that than I would kill Minerva or Flitwick or Hagrid. You may not be the most welcome sight I\'ve had, but I certainly won\'t be killing you tonight.\"

Snape lunged into Dumbledore\'s office, looking feverishly for Godric Gryffindor\'s sword. It was not in its usual place, hanging above Fawke\'s perch. Snape spun to stare at Dumbledore, who was following slowly. \"Where is it?\"

\"The sword? Not here, apparently. You know as well as I do, that sword goes where it will. And I wouldn\'t have allowed you to use it, anyway. Not to kill yourself. You\'ll have to do that without help from me. Come with me, Severus.\"

~*~

Word quickly got out that the hated, virtually criminal Potions master was back at Hogwarts, living in the infirmary under the watchful eye of Madame Pomfrey and a series of spells to keep him restricted to the hospital ward. It wasn\'t long before Snape had visitors; merely a matter of hours. Poppy had turned back several of his more adventurous Slytherins. He would not allow Poppy to examine him. He knew what was wrong with him. His magic was gone, subsumed by the evil serpent wizard. Poppy\'s ministrations -- likely drawn from potions he had brewed for her himself -- would be of no use. Poppy glared at him as he sat almost smugly in his recalcitrance, and slammed the door behind her. He heard wards clicking into place and knew himself to be a prisoner.

Minerva arrived fairly promptly. It seemed that wards of any kind hardly delayed her -- even his own, on New Year\'s Eve -- since she waltzed right in. He could hear Poppy protesting in the outer room. She went directly to where he sat in an armchair that overlooked the lake. He had been staring out at the faint ripples created by the Squid in the moonlight, thinking of nothing except his own desperation and pain. \"Lumos,\" she said, to brighten the room. Minerva put both hands on his cheeks and turned his face into the light. She looked deep into his eyes. \"Is it true, what Albus tells me? Vo-- He\'s taken your magic?\" Unshed tears glittered and swelled, but did not fall from her eyes.

\"It\'s true.\"

Her voice was hushed when next she spoke. \"Albus says it\'s irreversible.\" She shook her head. \"Oh, Severus. I could never have imagined or wished for this, not even after New Year\'s. How did it happen? What set him off? Did he discover what we did at the Circle?\"

Snape nodded tiredly. \"In a way. He knows I had something to do with warding Potter and Malfoy. He was infuriated. He summoned Lucius; he wanted him there, to have him kill me. Lucius suggested the Transfundo potentia. He deliberately flattered Voldemort into trying the spell. I wish he had killed me instead.\"

Minerva gasped. \"You don\'t, either! Lucius saved your life, though I don\'t understand why! You have everything to live for, you --\"

Snape struck her hands away from him. \"You don\'t know what this is like, Minerva,\" he hissed. \"Don\'t give me platitudes. Spare me your pity, unless you\'ve got a knife hidden in your robes.\"

\"I know I\'d far rather lose my magic than my life,\" she spat. \"Ungrateful bastard that you are! How many others have had no choice in the matter?\"

\"That\'s \'vile Slytherin bastard\' to you, Minerva. And I had no choice. Lucius took it away from me.\"

At that moment, Flitwick burst into the room. His small hands were filled with swizzle sticks of all sorts. \"They tell me your wand has been broken by -- by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,\" he gabbled, and motioned a small table toward Snape\'s armchair. He spilled the sparkling array of sticks onto its polished surface and began picking through them. \"One of these might work until we can get you to Ollivander\'s...we don\'t want you completely defenseless...\" But a moment or two later he sensed the tension and looked up at the two of them.

\"Filius,\" said Snape. \"Have you not heard the story of my dismissal?\"

Flitwick looked from Snape to Minerva and back. \"Well, yes.\"

\"And now -- what have you heard this evening?\"

\"He broke your wand...\"

\"And what do you think of me, knowing these things?\"

\"Do you think I\'ve been unaware of your spying?\"

Snape and Minerva both gaped at him.

\"Everyone thinks I\'m oblivious -- happy little Flitwick, charming his way through life. Isn\'t he sweet, isn\'t he cute. Isn\'t he small. Beneath notice.\" His eyes glinted. \"So much is said around you when you\'re harmless. I saw Miss Granger\'s hands. I wondered why she no longer came for extra practice in Charms. I saw much, and said nothing -- for which negligence I will probably burn in hell; but I thought she was improving under your care, Snape. And then I saw her decline when you were dismissed. I drew my own conclusions.\" He nudged two of the sticks toward Snape. \"Try these. They are most like your wand -- no core, you understand, but if we can get even a flicker from them --\"

\"His magic is gone,\" whispered Minerva.

\"There\'s no need to whisper,\" muttered Snape. \"It\'s a fact of my life now,\" he said bitterly, glaring at Minerva, who scowled back.

\"Gone? Surely not. Something must be left.\" Flitwick stared in disbelief.

\"There is nothing,\" said Snape. \"You don\'t know -- I am...hollow. Never in my life has there been this emptiness, this desperation.\" He shook his head in disgust. \"I don\'t even know why I\'m telling you both this. Leave me, go away.\"

Flitwick drew himself up. \"You won\'t even try.\"

\"No. I was there, Filius. I know what happened, I saw Voldemort\'s wand consume my magic when he summoned it from me.\"

Flitwick sniffed. \"I thought you were a scientist, first and foremost, and a wizard second. But I see you are only a hack.\" His lip curled, an expression copied from Snape himself.

Snape\'s eyes widened and his nostrils flared in sudden fury. \"How dare you, little man!\" He snatched at the swizzle closest to him and aimed it directly between Flitwick\'s eyes and hissed, \"Furnunculus!\" Flitwick flinched, but nothing happened. His face did not bloom with boils. The Charms professor bounced on the balls of his feet, nodding enthusiastically, blinking rapidly. Snape hurled the highly polished swizzle from himself and was pleased when it skittered far under the bed.

\"Indeed, your magic has gone. There was intent behind that hex; I pushed you hard. Even without a wand, I should by rights be covered in pustules.\" His fingers began to drum on his lips. \"Hmm...let me see...what else...perhaps we should see if you can still brew potions...\"

Despite himself, Snape began to chuckle derisively. \"Do you know what I\'ve been through today, you maniacal midget? Let me be. You can diagnose my lack of magic some other time, assuming I live long enough.\"

Minerva suddenly burst into tears. \"Stop it, stop it! I can\'t bear this!\"

Flitwick began to chuckle as well. \"Where are the teacups to shatter when you need them?\" He looked at Snape again. \"You need food. I\'ll call the elves.\"

\"I\'m not hungry.\"

\"A pity,\" said the Charms professor. \"I don\'t recall asking you.\"


~*~

It was a long time before Snape was finally left alone. He had eaten a cheese sandwich, a pear, four bars of Honeydukes\' best bitter chocolate and drunk three cups of lemony tea before Flitwick was satisfied. The little man had never behaved so outrageously in Snape\'s memory; but then, Snape had never truly understood before that he had friends at Hogwarts. The thought made him uncomfortable, yet oddly soothed. He had long thought Minerva tolerated him, even cultivated a fondness for him, but to see her setting her anger with him aside to do what she could to help him...well, it turned his world view on edge. He was not alone in the world. And there was Lucius, for whom the whole fucking point had been to keep him alive...Lucius, unpredictable as the weather, yet one always knew there would be weather...

\"Nox,\" he said now, to extinguish the lights in the room, and flinched when they remained burning brightly. Habit died a hard death. He rose from the chair and moved about the room extinguishing them by hand, leaving only the one by his armchair. Hermione, your lover is a Muggle now, he thought idiotically.

The light in the room left him staring at his own reflection in the window, which was rendered a mirror by the darkness beyond the glass. He turned the armchair to face himself and stared into his own eyes, searching for any residual sign of magic. He had never seen his own magical ability, yet somehow he felt compelled to dwell upon his own image in a futile search for it.

Dark eyes met dark eyes.

Angharad: \"Why is it so bad, to be your father\'s son?\"

Severus shuddered. They were walking at midnight, at the quarter waxing moon, in search of certain fungi that should grow in the hedgerows lining the lane to the village. \"To know his spirit is within me...that I am the spawn of this violent, abusive man...it sickens me.\"

\"Yet you cannot change this. You can only rise above it. This is what it means to be human, Severus. It means you must strive to do better, to be more than what you are.\"

\"So many times, as a boy, I wanted to cut that out of myself...yet, Angharad, I let it take me over. I let that darkness drive me to Voldemort. I liked how it made me feel.\"

\"What you liked was the illusion of control.\" She halted and put her soft, gnarled hand on his arm. In the dimness he could see her streaky hair like a veil of clouds, welcome as summer rain, touching her shoulders. \"Tell me why you finally left the Death Eaters, Severus. What changed for you?\"

Severus snorted. \"I grew bored.\" How could he tell this peaceful, kind woman about the last potion Voldemort had required of him? The horrific stew that was to consist of the heated, lusting dreams of a young man, still virgin; a baby\'s last cry; and its mother\'s ferocious grief.

\"Why do you persist in lying to me, Severus? You know by now that I always recognize your falsehoods.\"

His hands clenched. Through gritted teeth, he told her about Voldemort\'s youthful drink.

\"Tell me, Severus...whose mother did you think of? What babe?\"

\"Of course I thought of my own self, my own mother, Angharad. What else would I think of?\" And Lily, Lily, Lily. What might have been.

\"You abhorred what you were asked to do. Would your father have brewed such a drink?\"

Snape turned his head aside and spat the bitter taste in his mouth out into the hedgerow. \"I\'ll not speak more of this, Angharad.\" And she had not pressed, but the conversation had never truly left him.

And now it came rushing back. Dark eyes looked into dark eyes. My father\'s eyes. Just as his paleness came from his mother, his darkness came from his father. More than just his coloring. Yet -- were Angharad to see him now, would she look upon his actions favourably? What would she think of his choices?

Seeking his soul through his druid rituals: a choice.

Bringing Hermione into the Circle and teaching her druid ways: another choice.

Making love with Hermione, even beyond that which certain rituals called for. Speaking his love to her. Taking her away with him. Sending her away, at last, to heal without him. Protecting Lucius and his son. Raising the Circle\'s benisons for others, and planning to use the glory of that Circle to end Voldemort once and for all, and the betrayal of Voldemort.

All choices; his choices.

For good? For ill? He wanted to believe they were for good. The dark eyes he looked into were calmer than he remembered them; the steepled fingers he could see in the reflection were still; wandless, but still; even peaceful. The face was very thin; and even though he knew it was probably his imagination, he felt even thinner since Voldemort had taken his magic. He was less than he had been.

And yet...the longer he stared, the more strongly he felt that something new was birthing, in this long, dark midnight. Something with a core of flame, of determination. Something that did not wish to be ended, something that longed for dawn. Could Conscience Minerva be right? Would he really rather lose his magic than his life?

Something to think about, certainly. And he had a lot of time for that, didn\'t he? Days upon days.

~*~

Wards hardly slowed Lily\'s boy, either. Only two days later Potter appeared, pushing his glasses nervously up his nose, and said, \"I am going for a walk on the grounds. Perhaps you\'d like to come along.\"

\"There are wards on my door,\" said Snape.

\"Not any longer,\" said Lily\'s boy matter-of-factly. \"And Madame Pomfrey is busy at the Quidditch field. A Hufflepuff collided with the Slytherin Seeker.\"

\"Malfoy? And you\'re not there?\" Snape\'s derisive gaze slid to the boy, who stood with his hands in his pockets, his hair pointing any number of ways, and his Lily-eyes looking coolly at him.

\"He\'s fine. I saw the whole thing. Not even a broom straw out of place.\" His hand fidgeted in his robe pocket, and something rustled there. \"Professor, I made a promise to someone that I would...\" He paused, and his dark brows drew together in a scowl that made the lightning-bolt scar stand out on his forehead. \"...take care of you.\"

Snape snorted. \"I detect the fine hand of Miss Granger in this nonsense,\" he said.

Potter ran his hands through his hair before shoving them back into his pockets. \"It wasn\'t my first choice,\" he said now. \"We shouldn\'t speak of this here, probably.\"

\"Why not? Have you more to tell me?\"

The green eyes flicked up and met his in silence.

\"I\'ll just get my robe,\" said Snape, who now suspected that the Slytherin Seeker had a part in this drama, to cause a distraction in the infirmary.

Potter led him through little-used hallways until the two of them were exiting the obscure door that Snape and Hermione had used for their druid training sessions and rituals. It was clear that Potter was taking him to the Circle. As they walked, Snape plucked a few of the early oxeye daisies and yellow dandelion blossoms, and when they neared the Forbidden Forest, he ducked just inside its edge until he found a single black rose, the only one on its sprawling canes, and he plucked that too. Hermione, he thought, inhaling its strange fragrance deeply.

In all this time, Potter had said nothing. But when he saw the black rose, he blinked and spoke. \"I\'d always heard those were here, but I\'ve never seen one before. Could I --?\"

Snape put it carefully into the boy\'s fingers. The black roses were very thorny.

\"It really is black,\" said Potter, wonderingly. \"Aunt Petunia has a black rosebush, but it\'s really just a very dark red, with a sort of velvet finish on the petals.\" He kept hold of it, smelling it occasionally until they entered the Circle, at which point he placed it on the altar along with the wildflowers Snape had gathered.

\"Did you intend for us to try to call down the Needfire?\" asked Snape. \"Because I should warn you, it takes two -- male, and female.\"

\"I thought it would be helpful to you -- soothing, perhaps -- and it\'s a full moon tomorrow.\" The boy flushed and Snape found himself almost chuckling. \"It doesn\'t really matter, does it, if the fire doesn\'t come? As long as the honor of the sun and moon is attended to.\"

\"Taking care of me?\" Snape queried dryly. \"Why don\'t you tell me what else you know of Miss Granger.\"

Potter felt in his pocket, and withdrew a parchment roll, which he held out to Snape. \"She sent you a letter. She tried to send it by owl, but it came back unopened.\"

\"Does she know about -- me?\" Snape found himself asking. He couldn\'t bring himself to say more, but he desperately wanted to know if she\'d been told he had lost his magic.

\"She got it out of me when I visited yesterday.\" Potter looked down at the flowers, and then said, \"I think I\'ll just go and walk toward the Quidditch pitch. I\'ll be back in a while, all right?\"

Snape\'s trembling fingers stretched out to take the parchment. He knew Potter saw his weakness, but he was so eager for Hermione\'s words that he scarcely cared, and did not see the youth leave the Circle.

\"Dear Snape,

Healer Morrow says I will soon be well enough to return to school. In time for my NEWTs, and just in time for the War. How convenient. I can accomplish my NEWTs, then risk my beautiful, now mentally stable little self for the sake of the cause. Charming.

The window here still cannot be opened, and likely never will be; Chloe, my roommate, has found a way to charm off the heavy glamour masking it, so that we can peer at the real world for a time; since she\'s doing it at night, the staff turns a blind eye to her experimenting with the spell. It is all we know of reality, it seems. Rain at night; fog at night; cars at night; disturbed pigeons flying at night. Very appropriate.

I must keep this short; the owls here are very small and cannot be overloaded. It stops the families from sending useful things like warm jumpers and books of spells with which to fool the physicians.

I find I still love you desperately. I am meticulous and steadfast in my obsessions. Tell me the time, Snape. Is it now? Is it ours? For I am nearly well. I long for the cottage, and Crookshanks, and you. I know you will not tell me the time, though.

Regards,
Hermione Granger

p.s. -- Harry was here today. He told me about what happened. I cried, of course. How egotistic of me, but then I rebuked myself, and let Harry put me together with glue (if only to marry your self-made puppet later. I am becoming morbid, now aren\'t I? Did you read Plath, by the way?) I will be fine. You are fine. I suppose everyone else is fussing over your supposed tragedy, so I\'ll fuss over me instead. I shall tell you only this: I love you. I don\'t care whether or not you can do magic. Harry will bring this to you. Harry says he will care for you.
H. G.

Snape sat hard on the edge of the altar stone after reading her letter. He let the parchment curl back on itself, and slid the bit of string around it again. He tucked the letter into his pocket, and then he rose and began his ritual, without the dusk or the dawn, without his Druid clothing, without his flask, and without his sickle. Without preparation, or purification, and yet somehow it felt more appropriate than ever, more right. He needed these moments of peace; Potter had been right about that.

He faced the west and blessed the sun. \"Bel, sweet rest.\" Then he turned east, and welcomed the moon. \"Ahrianrhod, welcome.\"

He lifted the black rose from the altar. He lacked a sickle, but the black rose had thorns and would draw blood readily. A large thorn served his purpose well; he squeezed the pad of his thumb and watched the welling of red. A vision of Hermione, blood soaked and still, flashed through his mind, but he banished it. No. I was right to involve her in this. I helped her. I did right.

\"East, into the bright Light.\" A single drop of blood into the flowers.

\"West, into the soft Night.\" Another drop.

\"South, into the warm Spark.\" A third.

\"North, into the chill Dark.\" And the last. Snape laid the black rose on the altar amidst the jumble of white and yellow blossoms.

And then, more from habit than anything else, he lifted his head and called for the Needfire, expecting the old emptiness, the lack, that had been the norm before Hermione.

Before love.

Before forgiveness.

Before the loss of his magic.

Before this flame was birthed, this tiny glowing coal that lived next to the image of Hermione in the chamber of his heart.

The cold tide that swept his ankles took him unawares. Snape\'s arms dropped in his bewilderment, and at that moment he saw Potter, approaching again from the northwest. Snape felt the vortex begin its whirling, and looking down, saw the Needfire dwelling coolly in the heap of petals and stems.

Potter slowed as he neared the Stones, and pressed a tentative palm to the gap between two of the massive rocks. When he pulled back sharply, Snape knew he had called the Needfire and wakened his Circle. Alone, he had called it. And now he knew how Angharad had raised her own solitary Circle...hers had been a pure soul.

Druid Snape fell to his knees next to the altar, and spoke aloud, aware that Lily\'s boy was watching and could hear, but it no longer mattered. He was shaken. He was elated.

\"Fill me,\" he said softly; joyfully. \"I am unclean, unclothed, but I am prepared for a soul. I have a name for my soul,\" he said. \"I call my soul Severus Snape.\" He bowed his head. He wanted to weep, but there was too much joy flooding him. Angharad, you were right, he thought, and then he said it aloud: \"Angharad, you were right. I have learned to tie my knots correctly, my mentor.\"