What Might Be Done

Chapter 7: The Ignominies of His Nature
In which our hero reveals himself and the sands shift under his feet.

What pursuit is more elegant than that of collecting the ignominies of our nature and transfixing them for show
-- Logan Pearsall Smith: Myself


Friday’s sixth year Potions class was an exercise in slow torture. Potter’s behaviour migrated from irritating to a museum piece of adolescent truculence. Snape wanted to slap him. Quite frankly, he wanted to do more than slap him. There was something very appealing about that defiant stance, about the robes open over Muggle clothing - shirttails out. Of the dark-shadowed eyes and sleep-deprived face.

“We’re never going to make a real wizard out of you, are we, Potter?” No longer able to resist the temptation, Snape stood towering over Harry, looking him up and down with an expression of distaste.

Harry looked right back at him, hands clenched at his sides. “I may not be much yet, Snape, but I’m going to be a better wizard than you could ever dream of being.”

That was it. That was past it.

“Get out of my classroom, you self-aggrandizing, conceited, arrogant, little muttonhead! GET OUT! And don’t come back until you’re ready to apologize.”

“The Archbishop of Canterbury will be sacrificing chickens on the altar of Merlin before I ever give you an apology!” Harry jammed his books into his book bag and stormed out of the classroom on a wave of whispers and half-fearful laughs.

Snape could feel the blood rushing through every vein in his body. He had never hit a student, but at that moment he wanted to chase Potter down the corridor and smash him into a bloody pulp. The urge was so strong, all he could do was hide his hands in the long sleeves of his robes and dig his fingernails into his arms until he drew blood.

“I have never been so close to thrashing a student in my life! If any of you other half-wits think Mr Potter’s behaviour is worth emulating, I will be more than happy to slip over the edge. CLASS DISMISSED!”

Snape was still standing over Harry’s abandoned chair as his students, utterly silent, made their escape as quickly as possible. He could feel his knuckles turning white. Ten minutes after the last student had fled, he finally managed to move.

“God damn that boy!”

“Severus?”

Snape whirled. “Minerva. What’s wrong?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

With a bitter smile, Snape said, “The usual.”

“Potter?”

“Who else?”

“I saw him flying up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. He looked as if . . . he were crying. What did you do to him?”

“I did nothing to your precious little chick, old woman, except ban him from my classroom until he apologises.”

“Courting’s going that well, eh?”

“Shut it.”

“He’s a troubled boy, Severus. A boy who’s had a very difficult life. A boy bearing a very large burden. He’s sixteen, Severus. You’re thirty-seven. You might try to remember that.”

Snape let out an exaggerated groan. “You’re the second person to tell me that, third if you count Potter’s attempts at wit. I don’t know why he aggravates me so thoroughly, but he does. He flashes those accusing eyes at me and suddenly I’m fifteen again and he’s James Potter.”

“If you really paid attention, you’d notice he’s more like Lily than he is James.”

“Is he? I can’t tell anything about him anymore. I get within twenty metres of him and I see red. All I know about him right now is that he’s rude, sarcastic and unthinking.”

Minerva smiled

“What?” Snape demanded.

“Nothing important. I was just thinking how often it is what we most despise in other people are those faults we share with them.”

Snape glared.

“Who was the first person to tell you to act your age?” Minerva asked placidly, clearly unmoved by Snape’s death glare.

“Albus. Who else?”

“Of course. I’m very worried about him.”

“We all are.”

“And he’s worried about you. It would be a tremendous load off his mind if you could settle this thing with Potter.”

***

Potter was absent from Potions on Monday, and again on Wednesday. The enfant terrible had been absent from the Great Hall as well; at least when Snape was there. Now that he stopped to think about it, Snape realised he hadn’t seen the boy at all over the weekend either. Much to his irritation, he felt vaguely guilty. Potter could ill-afford to miss either Potions or meals. He tried to tell himself he had been justified, that Potter had been unbearably rude. He tried to tell himself that he wasn’t angry solely because Potter’s words had struck home. He tried to tell himself that Potter’s parting comment about the Archbishop of Canterbury hadn’t been funny.

On Thursday Snape was the first one to arrive in the Great Hall for each meal, and the last one to leave. Potter had been a no-show. That was decidedly worrisome. The imp would make himself ill. It was time to talk to Albus again.

***

“I assume he’s been cadging food from his friend, that house-elf, but I don’t know if I’m correct. For some unaccountable reason I’m hesitant to ask the elf; afraid he’ll tell me Potter hasn’t been.”

“This is upsetting, Severus. I haven’t seen Harry since he last came to me about his scar.”

“The rapport was only temporary?”

“Apparently. I know he must be having a difficult time. I can only imagine what he’s feeling.”

“Sixteen-year-olds are notoriously over-sensitive.”

Dumbledore admonished him. “Even you, Severus, must realise how hard it is for Harry right now.”

“You shouldn’t have told him about the prophecy.”

“I should have told him about the prophecy long before I did. I’ve made too many mistakes, and I don’t know how to rectify them. Harry . . .” Dumbledore sighed and trailed off, clearly lost in thought.

“You spoil him, Albus. Allow him leeway you allow no other student. Nor any of the faculty, I might add.”

“It seems to me I allow you, and have always allowed you, tremendous leeway. If I permit the boy to attempt too much, it is only because he must learn what he’s up against. Wits are sharpened more by doing than by texts.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Even when he’s not speaking to you, you seem to know more about the boy than anyone; as you seem to know more about everything, blast you.

“Albus, I . . .” Snape felt at a loss.

Dumbledore waited patiently for the Potions master to find his words.

“About Potter. I think I’ve made a mistake.”

Snape paused again. Dumbledore watched him with a hopeful expression.

“I know you were happy when I agreed with you that I need a keeper.” The last word was pronounced with extreme distaste. “I know you were delighted when I decided Potter was my best chance, but the rift between us is too wide to be bridged at this late date. I’ve decided to turn my efforts in another direction.”

“You will, of course, suit yourself, Severus; although you never think so, ultimately you always do. I would remind you, however, that if there is a rift between you and Potter, it is entirely your own doing.”

“Headmaster! The wretch has been arrogant and insolent from his very first day of class. He’s lazy with his work and consistently insubordinate.”

“Enough, Severus!” Dumbledore’s anger left him breathless and wheezy.

Snape was shocked. He had felt Dumbledore’s wrath before, but he had always understood the reason, even if he hadn’t agreed with it. This time, an obviously ridiculous accusation had been hurled. If anyone should be angry, it was Snape. But even though it was none of his doing, Snape also felt guilty over Albus’s undeniable physical distress.

“Poppy’s warned me about my temper,” Albus offered in a thin voice.

That was something Snape could hardly credit. Generally speaking Albus was of an annoyingly even temperament. Perhaps there was something in this illness . . . He would ask Poppy about it later, or maybe Minerva would know.

“Harry came to this school ignorant of magic and ignorant of his parents, after suffering through an upbringing that was, to put it charitably, difficult.”

The last was news to Snape, but Albus had clearly not yet finished his point. If he remembered to, Snape would ask about it later.

“Don’t think I don’t know how you treat students, Severus. I have allowed you more leeway, for more years, than I have any other living person. Your treatment of Harry is shameful and I’m sorry I never stopped it. It’s often so hard to know the right thing to do. As I said, I’ve made many mistakes. So have you, and it’s time you own up to yours.

Snape began to splutter an objection but Dumbledore ignored him, continuing as if unaware of Severus’ irritation.

“The boy has suffered losses and threats that have broken grown wizards, and still he survives, and until the death of Sirius Black I like to think he thrived as well. Think about that, Severus. Think about the fact that you are the only teacher in this school who does not respect Potter’s achievements.”

“I’m the only teacher in this school who doesn’t coddle him, you mean!” Snape was very close to screaming. Only Albus’s pale face and trembling hands kept him in check.

“I mean exactly what I say. Minerva certainly doesn’t coddle him. I believe she’s taken more points from Potter than anyone. Oh, do shut up, Severus,” Albus scolded as another outraged sputter broke forth. “You created your problem with Harry, and it’s up to you to fix it. He’s actually quite a charming young man, in spite of everything he’s suffered. You will do well to think on that.”

“Albus . . .”

“I’m tired, Severus. I think it’s time for me to lie down again.”

It was a dismissal, plain and simple. Snape knew he should offer to assist Dumbledore to bed, as he had done before, but he was too angry. The idea that Potter’s execrable behaviour was somehow Snape’s fault . . . It didn’t bear thinking about. Albus could get his own damn self to bed.

“Thank you, Headmaster. I hope your rest helps. I’ll leave the matter of Potter’s dietary deficiencies in your hands. Good-day.”

Without waiting for a response, Snape turned with an even greater billow of robes than was usual, and escaped the office before he said something he’d really regret.

***
Snape was greeted in his room by Fawkes, bearing a note.

“Sick, but not too sick to keep hounding me. You old fool.”

Fawkes turned his head away but looked at Snape through the corner of one bright eye.

“Go. You’ve delivered your note. I’ve nothing for you. And I won’t be scolded by a damn bird!”

Fawkes trilled and disappeared in a flash of light. Snape sneered after him and then opened the note.

I know you’re angry, but think on what I’ve said.
If you decide to put your attention elsewhere, so be it,
but you’ll still need to start Occlumency lessons sooner,
rather than later.

-A-

Damn him! Damn Potter. Damn everything! Snape balled up Albus’s message and tossed it in the grate.

***

Snape’s sleep was restless. He tossed and turned most of the night, kicking covers off his bed, and at one point finally throwing off his nightshirt which kept getting tangled around his thrashing legs. Potter. Dumbledore. The Dark Lord. Potter. Dumbledore. The Dark Lord. Potter.

Finally, in irritation, Snape flung off what covers remained and climbed out of bed, naked and shivering. It was quite late, or very early. He walked to the window and pulled back the curtains, still shaking with cold. He didn’t dress, somehow his discomfort seemed appropriate. He didn’t bother to think why.

At first there was little to see from his window. The light of dawn was more a suggestion in the sky than a reality. Early then. Spring was finally coming and the days were getting longer, much to Snape’s displeasure. He liked the dark.

He stood staring blankly out. Beyond noticing that the sun was considering its climb above the horizon, he saw nothing else until the shadow of a movement arrested his attention. Someone was moving around in the near-darkness and, though it was a bit hard to be sure from this distance, Snape was confident it was a student. Probably one up to no good. Not even Hagrid would be up and about this early on a Saturday.

His spirits rose. He needed a target for his anger and a student wandering about in the dark was perfect. In these dangerous times even Albus couldn’t chastise him for punishing a student out before curfew was lifted. Snape fixed his eye on the miscreant and determined the path being taken. He quickly drew on his robes, then stormed out of his room, wand in hand. He wouldn’t actually use it, of course, but it would serve him to have the threat of using it handy.

Snape’s angry strides across the expanse of shadowed green lawn stopped abruptly. He only barely stifled a groan. His target was standing about ten metres from the Whomping Willow. Potter. Who else?

Snape contemplated his next move. After a moment, with a frustrated sigh, he tucked his wand back into its pocket.

Well, Snape thought, at least he has the sense to stand out of range. If Potter was saying something, Snape couldn’t hear it, but the tree was flailing its branches about angrily, almost doubling over in an attempt to club its tormentor.

Snape moved quietly to the side; if the boy turned around he wouldn’t see anyone, but Potter never turned, he just stood watching the tree with shoulders slumped and shivering in the chill early morning air. Sadness and loneliness seemed to flow off the boy in great waves. Snape found himself feeling sympathetic. It could have been himself standing there.

“What are you doing, you feckless idiot, other than annoying the tree?”

Potter whirled around, wand out. If Snape had been eagerly anticipating Potter’s wrath at being discovered, he was disappointed.

“Oh, it’s you. Just my luck,” Potter said flatly, and then, repocketing his wand, turned back to the tree.

“Don’t you turn your back on me! I asked you a question, boy!”

Potter turned and looked at Snape again, looking more resigned than angry. He shrugged his shoulders. He was still shivering, and although the light hadn’t yet broken above the forest, and the moon had long since set, Snape thought the boy’s eyes glittered oddly. As if he had been . . . crying.

In a moved that surprised Snape more than it appeared to surprise Potter, Snape shrugged his cloak off his shoulders and draped it around the boy.

However kind the gesture, Snape’s voice was waspish as usual. “No one ever taught you to come in from the cold? You’ll catch your death, gormless twit. Now, for the third and last time, what are you doing out here in the dark?”

Harry shrugged again. “Feeling sorry for myself, I suppose.”

It appeared Albus was right. Again.

“You have much to be sorry for,” Snape said quietly.

Harry suddenly seemed to shake off his misery. “Shut up! Just shut up, can’t you? I’m not miserable enough without you always snarking at me, and cataloguing my sins?”

“Potter -- Harry, I’m sorry.” Snape sounded stiff and formal. He was piqued. He had actually been trying to be kind to the little monster. He shook himself and took a deep breath. “I phrased it poorly. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh right,” Harry said sarcastically. “All’s forgiven then, what? So perhaps now you’ll leave me alone?”

“I meant, impudent boy, that there is much in your life to make you feel sorrowful.”

“Sympathy from you? That’s rich. You’re slipping, Snape. What do you really want from me? Why are you dogging my steps? Why all these >talks’?”

“I’m most certainly not ‘dogging your steps’. I saw a student from my window. Outside, before daylight, against the rules. I had no idea it was you until I got down here! Why am I explaining myself to you?” Snape shouted. “You belong in your bed in Gryffindor Tower, not traipsing about endangering yourself.”

“Look, I just need time to be alone! Why is that so much to ask? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“What’s troubling you, Potter?” Snape could have bit his tongue. He should be taking points, not encouraging the boy.

Harry sank down onto the dew wet grass and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping Snape’s cloak around himself. He looked up at his professor. “I just get upset sometimes and I figure it’s better to come out here and irritate the tree than take it out on my friends and the professors.”

Snape considered that for a moment. Then Albus’s words came back to him. You created your problem with Harry, and it’s up to you to fix it. Well, perhaps he could try.

“Is it because of Black?” Snape asked gently.

Harry stood up abruptly and screamed, “DON’T YOU! DON’T YOU DARE START TALKING ABOUT HIM! DON’T YOU DARE.”

He lunged at Snape, arms flailing wildly, trying to land a blow. With the disparity in their height and weight, it was easy to fend him off. A frantic swing caused Harry to overbalance. If Snape hadn’t put his arm out, the boy would have fallen. But he had put his arm out, and then he was behind the irate Potter. Without thinking, Snape wrapped both arms around the boy from behind, neatly pinning the flailing arms.

“Calm down, Potter.”

“Let go of me!”

“Not until you calm down.”

“I don’t want you hugging me! Let go!” Harry struggled.

“I’m not hugging you, you overweening egotist! I’m restraining you. I’ll stop as soon as you CALM DOWN!”

Harry went still in Snape’s arms. Snape immediately let go and stepped back, allowing Potter’s limp body to fall to the ground. Potter landed on his arse. Snape laughed as Potter glared up at him.

“Here,” Snape extended a hand. “Get up. I won’t talk about him.”

Grudgingly, Harry took Snape’s hand and hoisted himself back to his feet. Snape thought he resembled a wild animal in a trap. His hair was in greater disarray than usual and his eyes looked almost yellow in the pale light.

“You had better not talk about him!”

“I won’t, except to say this.” At Potter’s irate look, Snape held up his hand, palm out in supplication. “Bear with me, just for a moment, Potter.”

Harry looked at him suspiciously but surprisingly kept silent.

“I won’t lie to you. For myself, I despised him. Our loathing was deep-rooted and mutual, and I’m not sorry he’s gone, but I am sorry you lost your godfather.”

“You’re not sorry he’s gone. Oh that’s nice, very kind of you. Your compassion overwhelms me.”

Snape took a deep breath and thinking again of his earlier conversation with Dumbledore, resisted the urge to throttle the truculent brat in front of him. Ignoring Potter’s suspicious look, he continued, “I’m sorry you never knew your parents. I’m sorry that Cedric Diggory died. I am sorry for all the losses you’ve suffered.”

Potter snorted, but Snape noticed with satisfaction that the boy was looking less wild and the blue tinge of cold was leaching from his face. He continued to talk, determined to accomplish something.

“I won’t say I know how you feel, because nobody does.” He paused again. This was much harder than he’d thought it would be; if he had thought about it, which he hadn’t until just that moment. This had better work, or Dumbledore was going to have a lot to answer for.

Snape steeled himself and took a deep breath. “I’m sure it will surprise you to know that I had a father and mother. When I was seven, my father sent my mother away. He told me she had died. I didn’t find out until much later that she hadn’t. Anyway, I lived alone with him until I came to Hogwarts. I say alone with him, but I should really just say alone. He certainly had as little to do with me as possible over the years.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Genuine curiosity and frustrated belligerence were both evident in Potter’s tone.

A part of Snape was asking the same question.

“When I’m finished, I think you’ll know. My father did not speak to me unless he had to. I received no attention, no affection, no companionship. I had no brothers and sisters. I was schooled at home and we lived miles from anywhere, so I had no friends.”

Snape rubbed his hands up and down his arms, missing the warmth of his cloak. But, as Potter looked much better, and Snape didn’t want to stall whatever momentum he had just built up, he shrugged off the chill and continued with his story.

“Then I came to Hogwarts. I had never been taught magic, even though I grew up in a wizarding household; my father said it would be a wasted effort. Hogwarts was a wonder. And there was a seventh year, who somehow magically became my friend, exactly like the loving older brother I had never had but always wanted. And for the first time since I lost my mother, I had somebody who loved me. Even after he left Hogwarts he stayed in touch with me. I spent half my holidays with his family.”

“Lucius Malfoy,” Harry said, a sneer tempered by something in his eyes that looked suspiciously like compassion.

“Yes. Lucius. He was my protector, my friend, my family. The only one who stood up for me against my tormentors. Dumbledore tried to warn me, of course. It did no good. Well, you know something of my past, what I did when I left school. Eventually I chose to leave that life. The only thing that was hard about it was losing Lucius. Oh, he doesn’t actually know I’ve left. He believes we’re still friends, but there’s a huge gulf between us; even if I am the only one aware of it.”

Snape lapsed into silence and stared blankly into the lessening dark.

“OK. Maybe you do understand something. Maybe.” Harry said grudgingly.

“I know what it’s like to be alone. I know what it’s like to bear a burden that no one else bears.”

“Yeah. All right. I guess you do.”

Harry sank back to the ground, wrapping himself up again in Snape’s too large cloak. Snape said nothing more, just continued to stare off. The Whomping Willow had finally stilled, there was no wind, no early morning chorus of birds, no sound other than their breathing.

Finally, Snape broke the silence. “Dumbledore wants us to resume your ‘Remedial Potions’ lessons.” He smiled disdainfully.

“Yeah, he told me. I was waiting for you to bring it up, hoping you wouldn’t.”

Harry’s grin was weak, but it was a grin. Damn Albus. He was right. The boy was charming. Blast and damn!

“Is that what all this has been about?” Harry asked.

“All what?”

“You know,” Harry grinned again, “dogging my footsteps.”

“I have not been dogging your footsteps, and I’ve already explained why I’m here.”

“What about all our ‘talks’ then? Have you been intending to bring up ‘Remedial Potions’ and then losing your nerve?”

“The day I lose my nerve around you . . .” Oh hell. There was something Snape hadn’t ever gotten up the nerve for.

“Potter -- Harry, do you recall our discussion about an armistice?”

“We made short work of that, didn’t we?”

“Hmm. Yes, although currently we seem to have created a reasonable facsimile of a truce, at least for the moment.”

“I’ve been wondering how that happened.” Harry grinned mischievously. “Oh yeah. That’s right. You apologised to me.”

Snape snarled but he couldn’t seem to conjure up enough real venom to make it work.

“Speaking of which . . .”

“Say no more. Professor Snape, I’m sorry. I was having a very bad day, and I shouldn’t have said what I did to you.”

“Do you hear that?” Snape asked, looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“I’m not sure. It sounds rather like a chicken being sacrificed. There must be an altar to Merlin around here somewhere.”

“Liked that line, did you?”

“Not in the least.”

Harry smiled again and Snape startled himself by responding in kind.

“Potter, that day I spoke to you about the armistice, I . . . well, what I said was not exactly what I intended to convey. What I meant was . . . What I should have said was . . .”

“What? Spit it out. I can handle it. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve experienced worse.”

“That’s not quite the interpretation I was hoping for. No, don’t say anything. If I don’t get this out now, I never will. Potter, astounding as it might seem . . .”

Snape closed his eyes and swayed slightly. For the first time ever, he found himself wishing his Dark Mark would blaze in pain. Anything to get out of this.

“I’ve found myself, lately, thinking about you quite a bit. Thinking about our relationship, or lack of one, and how we might change it.”

“We’ve made a start . . .”

The words were friendly enough, but Potter looked suspicious.

“Don’t! Don’t interrupt. Let me have my say. I know I haven’t exactly been kind to you. I’m not a very kind person, frankly. I admit it. Dumbledore has taken me to task over it many times.”

Harry looked as if he wanted to interrupt again. Snape continued in a rush.

“Damn it all! I’m taken with you, Potter. Damn it! Harry. Against my good sense, in opposition to my rational mind. . . I’m attracted to you. I’d like to attempt to see if we can become something more to each other than teacher and student. Something more, better, than enemies.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.

“You’re gawking again, Potter.”

“Yeah? Well, you would be too if you were me and I were you and I’d just said to you what you just said to me.”

Harry pulled Snape’s cloak from his shoulders and stuffed it in Snape’s arms.

“I think we might be able to make a go of it, Potter.”

“ARE YOU MAD? You’ve got to force yourself to call me by my first name! Fuck! I’m only sixteen! I’m not even sure what you’re suggesting is legal! Look, I’m sorry. Hex me into next week if you must, but I just can’t have this conversation.” Harry turned and fled.

Snape watched him disappear into the gloom, and shook his head. “Well, that went over well.”

TBC