Harry pushed open the door to Lupin's quarters and slipped inside. The professor had modified his wards earlier to admit him, in case Harry needed some privacy away from his “adoring public”. It was good to have Remus living in the castle again. Dumbledore had been more than happy to allow the DADA professor to move in before the start of next term, so that he could save what meager funds remained. Right now, Harry just wanted to rest after the last of his draining exams. It had felt very wrong to have Madame Pomfrey proctor the Potions final, and Harry had put some serious effort into it, hoping to prove that Snape's lessons had had at least some small effect.
Voices sounded from the other room, and he froze. He hadn't realized that Remus had had company. He turned to leave, when he recognized the other voice. Sirius! A wide grin crossed his face. His godfather had been so busy lately, and their time together had been strained by recent events. His grin faded when he began to make out bits of the conversation. It was clear that the discussion was very intense, bordering on argumentative.
“Gods, Padfoot!” Remus murmured despairingly. “He only wanted to be friends with us! No wonder he's so bitter.”
A heavy sigh. “How could we have known that, Moony? He was just a creep, staring at us all the time, like he wanted to dissect us for a Potions experiment. We had no reason to think differently.”
Harry shifted uneasily. He should go, he really should. This wasn't anything he should hear. It was as if his feet were cemented to the floor, and his ears strained to hear every word. His body was betraying him by refusing to let him leave. Again, Remus spoke. “That's no excuse! We let all the usual rhetoric go to our heads. We were so busy looking out for the nefarious Slytherins that we ended up creating one. It's true about hindsight being twenty-twenty. Thinking back, I can't remember very many tricks that Snape pulled against us that weren't in response to something we had done first. I believe that if we had stopped plaguing him, he'd have been more than happy to leave us alone.”
Black snorted. “Oh come on, I bet a part of him got a charge out of trying to beat us. You have to admit, some of those pranks were pretty ingenious.”
“Yeah,” Lupin chuckled. “In a way, it was kind of fun. But sometimes we took it too far. Looking back, a lot of things that we thought were funny were just plain cruel. If someone had done those things to me, I know I would have bawled my eyes out.”
“Severus never seemed too upset.”
“Do you honestly think he would ever let us see him cry? Come on, Sirius. This is the kid who nearly cut his finger off while slicing shrivelfigs and never made a sound. Just because he didn't show it doesn't mean it didn't hurt him.” A thoughtful silence. “You know, I don't think he was ever able to get past what happened that night in the Shack. No wonder he seemed so out of control that night when we found Pettigrew. It must have been awful for him to be there. He never said as much, but I think he had gone to protect Harry and his friends. He certainly didn't get very well rewarded for it.”
“So he exposed your secret and forced you to resign.”
“Yes.” Silence, and a quiet shifting sound. “It took me a long time to forgive him for that. I finally realized that he was trying to protect the children. Though I object to his methods, I can't fault the reasoning behind them.”
“Look, I really am sorry for what happened in the Shack. I just thought it would be worthwhile to see Snape piss his pants in fear, for once. He never seemed to be scared by anything we did! But you know how I was back then, Moody. I never thought about the consequences of my actions. Even now, it's hard to look before I leap. Still, I hate to see you beating yourself over the head with this. I know we did some really heartless things, but that hardly explains why Snape would want to top himself all these years later.”
“It doesn't matter why.” Harry had to strain to catch the words. “All that matters is that someone we know is alone and hurting. So many people have died in this war, and so many lives have been destroyed. If we could make things better for one person, shouldn't we at least try? Snape isn't any less deserving of compassion. If only you knew what he said to me last night… it's so godawful, Siri, I can't even tell you.”
Harry moved closer, and his leg impacted solidly with the table leg. He suppressed his groan of pain, but the noise was enough to alert the two men to his presence. “Harry, is that you?” Remus called, and Harry sheepishly entered the room. Luckily, their attention was distracted by the book in his hand. He held it up in way of explanation. “Hermione is a godsend. She had her parents send her books on Muggle psychotherapy and treatment for suicide patients, and she also tore the library apart searching for magical treatments. She found something that may actually be worth trying.”
Lupin took the book and thumbed through it, looking at the marked pages with interest. “Hermione is a very clever witch. This may be of some use to us after all.” He shut the book with a snap. “I'll speak to Dumbledore. If anyone can pull this off, he can.”
* * * * *
Loud pounding echoed through the stone corridors of the dungeon. The impact was enough to make the door vibrate. Snape groaned and covered his head with a pillow. Why couldn't whoever it was just have the good sense to go away? The wards were supposed to deliver a mild shock to anyone who disturbed them, but apparently his would-be visitor was either too intent on his task or too damn stupid to care.
“Come now, Severus. Open up. I fear this door is looking the worse for wear.” Blessed silence reigned for several moments. Snape lifted a corner of the pillow. Albus. Dammit. Didn't the old man ever know when to quit? Dumbledore called out again. “Please don't make me force the issue. I would rather that you grant me entrance of your own accord.” Snape closed his eyes and resisted the urge to curl into a ball. “Severus, I'm afraid I'm causing a bit of a scene. There's a crowd forming in the corridor. I fear it won't be peaceful around here for some time--”
A bony arm flashed out of the opening door and dragged the Headmaster inside, causing the small group to gasp as it slammed closed behind him. “What do you want, old man?” Severus spat. “Haven't you plagued me enough already?” A flash of hurt on the kindly face caused a prick of regret that he quickly brushed aside.
“Forgive me for being a nuisance, but I am concerned for your well-being, my dear boy.”
“I'm bloody fine. Now get out.”
Dumbedore twinkled at him infuriatingly. “I'm afraid I can't do that. At least not until I am quite sure that you are on the mend. Come with me, Severus. There is something that must be done.” Before the Potions Master could protest, he was dragged over to the fireplace. Albus threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames and called out “The staff room!” He tried to plant his feet, but the elderly wizard was stronger than he looked and managed to drag them both into the fireplace with ease.
Snape tumbled out of the fireplace in the staff lounge, awkwardly trying to catch his balance. He dusted off his robes and glared fiercely at the room's occupants. It seemed that Dumbledore was determined to turn his life into a bloody circus. The majority of the staff members were seated around the table, looking at him expectantly with expressions of simpering sympathy. The only saving grace was that that mutt Black, the charlatan Trelawney and the loutish Handley had not been invited to the festivities. He felt ill. Why couldn't they leave him the hell alone? Why did they insist on meddling in the misery that had become his life?
His look of rage had no effect on the ever-cheerful Headmaster, who pulled him into a vacant chair. “It's high time you stopped lurking away in your dungeons and joined the rest of the rest of the world, Severus. I know how much you value your privacy, but you've been alone for far too long. We are all here to help you through this difficult time.”
Snape emitted a harsh bark of what could pass for laughter. “Is this supposed to be an intervention? Don't make me laugh.”
Lupin chewed his lip. This was not going well. “Severus, we all care about you. You shouldn't have to suffer alone if you need our help.”
The man snorted and began to pace the length of the room, his robes billowing from behind him menacingly. “That's rich. As if any of you give a damn what happens to me. Allow me to congratulate you, Lupin. You've found a way to properly humiliate me and extract your revenge upon me. Now if you don't mind, I'm going back to my dungeons for some more sulking.”
“Sit down, young man!” McGonagall scolded in her best authoritarian voice. For a wonder, Snape hesitated and looked uncertain. She took advantage of the moment to tug him back to the chair. “You are working yourself up over nothing. Now sit still and listen for once. We are not here to mock you or spite you. Merlin knows where you got that idea. Despite your ungratefulness, we are trying to help you. You were always a brilliant student, perhaps not the best in Transfiguration, but you came up with some very challenging questions. It was a pleasure to watch you succeed and graduate top of the class. Although I admit that I question your methods from time to time, you are a skilled educator, and I'm sure the staff would be quite dull without you.”
While Snape was busy trying to process the meaning behind that, Flitwick spoke in turn. Finally he realized that this was supposed to be a morale-booster of sorts. He found the concept rather nauseating. At least Minerva had a blunt honesty about her that was refreshing. The others seemed to tiptoe around him, wanting to flatter him but wary of saying the wrong thing. Midway through Lupin's utterly fake “let's be friends” routine, he could no longer contain himself. “You must be mad. Who do you think you're trying to fool? Are you really that hard up for a laugh that you'd try to win me over? I'm not blind, Lupin. I've seen how you used to snicker behind your hand at me. I'm not about to fall for your little tricks.”
Remus' eyes flickered despairingly over to Dumbledore, who seemed slightly smug, as if all were going according to plan. He was completely confused. How could Snape's tirade be a good thing? It seemed that instead of bringing him closer, they were only driving him further away.
Snape could not stand it a moment longer. He leapt to his feet and began to pace about like a caged animal. “I hope you're all amused,” he snarled. “You're certainly carrying this little joke to extremes. I'm sorry if my personal problems have become such an inconvenience to you but frankly, it's none of your damn business. Surely you don't think I'm going to buy all this rubbish. None of you give a damn about what happens to me.”
“Severus!” Flitwick exclaimed, looking deeply wounded. “How could you possibly think that?”
“Oh, what a very good question.” His features were contorted in fury, a marked contrast from his usual icy sarcasm. “As if you all haven't been whispering behind my back for years. I know you were all hoping I'd either quit or get sacked, and I'd no longer be a thorn in your side. All this time I've been a tool, something to be used and then discarded when it is no longer needed. Come off it and be honest for once. None of you can stand me!”
He felt something rising in him like a balloon, swelling in a wave of intensity. A part of him drew back in fear, wanting to be still and silent, but the force was inexorable. His chest heaved as he vented his spleen, allowing the poison in his heart to bubble to the surface and spill from his tongue. He had lost complete control, and for once he just didn't give a damn. To hell with the consequences. “I've never been quite good enough for you, have I? How it must have sickened you to have a deceitful, betraying Slytherin on staff, working with your precious children. It didn't matter how many years of my life I devoted to saving the little cretins. It didn't matter how much I gave in blood and sweat and tears; nothing would ever make me fit company for the likes of you.” He kicked a chair ferociously. “Most of you can afford to sit safe and sound behind the walls of Hogwarts, or behind the walls of Order headquarters, planning for the downfall of the Dark Lord, but you never want to hear what it was really like out there. You never have to sully your hands with the grunt work. That's what lapdogs like me are for, after all!
“And you!” he rounded suddenly on the aging Headmaster, who did not look in the least surprised. “You're the worst of all. You give everyone a smile and a lemon drop and send them on their way with a pat on the head. I never told you what it was like over there. I couldn't bear for you to know. I don't know why I bothered; it's not as if it would matter. I must be very convenient for you. A willing sacrifice to keep the rest of the world safe. Of what consequence is the life of one small, greasy, hated Slytherin anyway? You've shown me time and again just what little regard you have for my existence.” He entire body trembled with rage, and his voice was choked. Hagrid opened his mouth to speak in Dumbledore's defense, but Remus gripped his arm in a warning to keep silent. “My death would have been little more than an inconvenience for you. In the end, I am expendable. Do you deny it?”
Dumbledore put up a hand, his expression infinitely saddened. “You are right, Severus, on many counts. We have not provided the support that you undoubtedly needed. Too many times I remained silent when I should have spoken for you. But my worst sin was never telling you how much you mean to our cause, this school, and myself. I have failed you miserably, and I have never found a way to make it up to you. Until now.” Ignoring the ferocious burn of a pitch-black glare, he lifted his hand and caressed the sharp cheekbone.
Severus recoiled from the gesture, nearly tripping over the chair he had kicked. “Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!”
Dumbledore advanced slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. “I am here to help you, my boy, whether you choose to believe it or not. You do not have to go through this alone.”
The righteous rage drained away abruptly, leaving him with a deep gnawing fear. His precious mental shields were buckling, worn down over the emotional pain of the past few days. His only thought was to retreat, withdraw behind the walls until they could be made strong once more. “Don't you get it? I don't want your help! I don't need anybody, dammit! Now leave me the hell alone!”
“No. I don't think I will. Alone is the last thing you need right now.”
The hand was back, ghosting over his brow to sweep back the limp, disheveled locks. Snape felt a quiet sort of panic set in. He felt trapped; he had to get away! Didn't Albus care what he was touching, how soiled he would become? He pushed weakly at the hand that was tangling in his greasy hair, burning him, hurting him, filling him with emotions he had believed long dead. “Stop! Don't you know what you're doing?!” The kindly gaze assured him that yes, Albus knew exactly what he was doing. His heart felt as if it were seized in a vice; his throat closed, and his eyes burned. No, no, anything but this! “Don't! Please don't, stop, please--” And then Dumbledore did the unforgivable, the unpardonable, as he drew the trembling man into a gentle hug. The sweetness of the gesture shattered the rest of his defenses, and a choked sob forced its way through his throat. Hot tears scalded his cheeks, and he lifted his hands to cover his face in burning shame. He cursed himself over and over for his weakness, but as Albus pulled him closer, he buried his face in the older man's neck and sobbed. It was beyond awful. He was well and truly lost now, his defenses in tatters, leaving him vulnerable. He would never live this down.
Gentle fingers soothed him, rubbing down his back as his head was cradled. The gentleness only made him sob harder, shaking like a leaf in a storm. An apt description, for he felt trapped in the hurricane of his own emotions. The outburst seared him, but at the same time it felt so good to let go. Even if this unexpected kindness was fleeting, even if it was a lie, he was not strong enough to refuse it. He sank into the embrace, soaking in the heat of another body holding him close, someone who said they cared. He had fallen for this trick so many times, but he did not have the strength to resist. He had deprived himself of human contact for so long that a mere hug felt like heaven itself.
Muffled through the sound of Albus' crooning (nonsense words, it seemed, but they felt good all the same) and his own choked cries, he could just make out the sounds of a spell. The assembled group slowly overcame their astonishment and drew around their heartsick colleague in a loose circle. Each put an arm around the waist of the one next to them, lifting their wands in unison and pointing them at Snape, chanting softly. This was their last, best chance. So far it had succeeded beyond all hope, but one wrong move and he would be forever lost to them.
As Severus wept, feeling like a lost child, a warm feeling began to spread. It was unlike anything he had felt before. It was warm and comforting, like a cup of hot chocolate on a freezing day, and it spread through him, chasing away the dark shadows. He stiffened slightly, wary of this new sensation, but he did not fight as it wormed its way deeper inside, filling a hole inside him that had been there so long it had become a part of him. For the first time in memory, he felt whole.
The maelstrom of grief eventually petered out, and Severus weakly pushed away from Dumbledore. Recognizing the need for a bit of emotional space, the headmaster gently maneuvered him into a chair, into which he collapsed like a puppet with the strings cut. He felt as if his insides had been scrubbed raw. A massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but he was left feeling wrung out. The dark eyes stared at the floor, unwilling to look anyone in the face. Events had left him quite stunned, and it would take some time to process it fully. He fumbled weakly in his pockets, and several handkerchiefs were thrust at him. He took one at random and wiped roughly at his face. Hagrid's meaty hand held out a small flask, whose contents he gratefully downed in one gulp, welcoming the burn of the potent alcohol.
Affectus germanum. There was no way to fake that particular enchantment, a rather obscure bit of magic that allowed an individual to experience the true feelings of those that performed the spell. What he had felt from his colleagues was something he could scarcely comprehend. “How?” His voice was scratchy and rough. “How can you stand to even be near me, knowing what I am and the things I've done?” He was stunned. They saw him as one of them – certainly odd and disagreeable, but they cared about him all the same. It was something he had never allowed himself to believe. How could anyone feel this way about him? “I should sicken you.”
Dumbledore laid a hand on his head. “Severus, you were forgiven long ago for your sins. The only one who has not given you pardon is yourself. You have been harder on yourself than anyone else could ever have been. In a way, you have become your own dementor, denying yourself any form of happiness. There is no reason to hold on to that guilt. Let it go and learn to live again.”
Snape made an odd noise, something like laughter that ended in a choked sob. “That's easy for you to say. I had a good look in the mirror of Erised when we were protecting that cursed stone. Do you know what I saw? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It took me some time to realize why. At first I thought it was because I did not have a soul. Then I realized that none of my dreams turned out the way I had hoped. There was no hope for me for a normal life. My deepest desire is to never have existed at all.”
A stunned silence fell. It was a statement so profoundly awful that no one seemed able to respond. How could they not have seen this? Severus was a very private man, but surely there had been some sign to his misery, some signal of the deep pain that haunted him. Minerva reached out to take his hand, and some of the returning darkness to his soul abated. He looked at her in astonishment. Someone actually cared. They were genuinely trying to help him. It was a concept that was overwhelming, and he found the foreign gesture to be somewhat frightening. To accept would make him vulnerable… but was he not vulnerable already?
Remus looked awkward. “Severus, I know that the DADA job must be important to you--”
Snape cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I don't want the job. I never wanted the job! I apply for it every year with the full expectation of being denied. It gives me another reason to appear disgruntled with Dumbledore and eager to betray him to the Death Eaters. All I want it to see someone capable in that position. At this rate I'd have to settle for you, I suppose.” A glimmer of his old scowl returned. “Not that teaching the course myself would be a bad thing. It's time the children actually learned how to defend themselves. One could always hope that they would be more attentive than in Potions, where they seem to be hell-bent on destroying my classroom.” Remus found his attitude strangely encouraging. Snarkiness suited Snape a lot better than his recent apathy.
Dumbledore took Snape's other hand, watching the young man tense slightly at the unfamiliar contact. It made the old wizard ill to see someone so afraid of a gesture of affection. “Severus, your debt is paid. You owe nothing more to me or to anyone else. I know that you have been living in a self-imposed purgatory, but there is nothing more to forgive. Nothing can erase your original mistake, but you have sacrificed much to rejoin the side of the Light. Your life is your own, to do with as you see fit.” A tingle spread up Snape's back as he removed the binding spell. “I want you to take the time and figure out what you truly want out of life. Let's see if we can't come up with a new dream.”
It was as if he had been kept in a dark, cramped room for the past decade, and had suddenly been released, blinking and squinting, into bright sunlight. His heart leapt before he could clamp down on his emotions. Freedom. He had lived for so long under Voldemort's shadow, at the beck and call of two masters, though Dumbledore did his best to couch his orders as requests. He was his own man now, beholden to no one. There might just be something out there for him after all. Perhaps this was how a bird felt taking its first flight, trying out its new wings. A feeling rose in him, unfamiliar and overwhelming. Hope.