For Valour by Whitetail
Summary: Being an ex-spy makes fatherhood difficult for Severus, and his son Harry knows this. Therefore, Harry has never been surprised that his father has talked so little of what happened during the first Wizarding War, a time when the Ministry of Magic still refused to believe he was acting on Dumbledore’s orders. It is a silence Severus has been able to keep without question, but when Harry discovers an old trunk of his father’s, he finds in it something Severus had never intended to see the light of day - a muggle war medal. No longer can Severus keep his past hidden, and no longer can he shelter his son from the reality of what happens when one war bleeds into another … the truth of where traitors go when Azkaban is full.
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Eileen Prince, Lily, Original Character, Tobias Snape
Snape Flavour: Snape is Loving
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 1st Year
Warnings: Suicide Themes, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 12 Completed: Yes Word count: 54131 Read: 40728 Published: 13 Aug 2013 Updated: 04 Nov 2013
The Survivors by Whitetail

The corridor to my office is still and quiet, to my relief. I go to my office door and open it, closing it behind me. I turn around, and then am surprised to see that Harry is sitting in my desk chair. He leaps up immediately, grinning from ear to ear and yet looking nervous for some reason.

"Dad!" he says, "How's Grandma?"

"She's good," I say as he bounces on his toes in front of me.

"Did she say anything?"

"About what?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

"Nothing," Harry says quickly. "I have a surprise for you. You can thank Eleanor Crandall, really, because we got talking and I never could have found him if it hadn't been for her. She sent the letter right away -"

"Found who, Harry?" I ask, my heart suddenly pounding, but he keeps going on about how he couldn't believe what he'd heard and doesn't answer me.

"Monkshood, Salazar, open the portrait already," Harry says, positively writhing with excitement.

Salazar snickers slightly, and I mouth "What on earth?" to him, to which he simply shakes his head, smirking.

"See you tomorrow Dad," Harry says, turning quickly to give me a hug. I hardly have time to register it before he's running out of the office. "You can thank us later!" he calls after me.

"Whatever that was about ..." I mutter. Yet, I cannot seem to calm my treacherously beating heart, threatening to make me give in to the shaking fear that I suddenly feel, because I can think of one person in particular who might be sitting in my quarters, and I fear that I am wrong, because it is impossible. Death cannot reverse itself, no matter how much you wish it to. Lily taught me that.

I walk through the doorway, and I hear a shout, and before I know it someone has leaped out from round the corner and is thumping me hard on the back.

Death has reversed itself, it seems, but how?

"B-Ben?" I gasp, and he releases me, holding my left shoulder and bending slightly to look me in the eye. He has less hair, but his eyes are still that unmistakable, piercing blue, and they're full of tears, just like mine are.

    I cannot believe this, and my mind searches for a sign that I'm imagining this, but I cannot find one.

"It is you," he mutters, and drags me into a hug again. "I thought you were dead! And then I got this letter, from my niece Ellie ... I wasn't sure until I saw your son's signature as well ..."

"I t-thought you were dead too," I say dazedly, trying to keep from breaking down, hardly registering what he's saying because I'm so amazed.

"Just parts of me," he says with a shaky laugh, lifting up his right arm. It's prosthetic.

"What, how did that happen? How are you alive? How come ... how come I couldn't find you?" I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, finding it hard to stay together, my words coming out in a whirlwind "Ben, I looked everywhere. Dumbledore had me erased from records for my safety after I got that medal because he didn't want me discovered by Death Eaters who knew me as a spy ... and I couldn't ask too extensively because it would have seemed odd and my Dad looked too, and you weren't on one of the casualty lists but nobody knew where you'd gone. We just had to assume you were ... you were dead. Well, maybe they messed up the papers, because there weren't any records of you coming back on one of the crew ships and - and ... and nobody knew where you had gone ..."

"Severus, slow down," Ben says, nudging me toward the set of chairs in the kitchen before getting me a glass of water and shoving it into my trembling hands. "Wait, medal? What medal?"

"You go first," I say, taking a grateful sip. "It's a long story."

"Oh, alright," Ben says with a slight twinkle in his eyes as he drags a chair to sit opposite mine. "Don't think you're getting out of it, though."

"Yeah, yeah, now get talking," I tell him, loving the way his voice sounds. It's so familiar, and I have missed him. I never thought that I would care about a group of guys as much as I did Ben and Joey. Something about facing the impossible together did that. I feel a momentary pang, wishing Joey was here for this.

"My right arm, yeah," Ben starts, waving it slightly. "Well, remember how the grenades kept rolling down the hills?"

"Yeah, I still dream about ... about that," I mutter. "Just like yesterday."

"Me too," mutters Ben, for a moment, truly showing the some eleven years he has aged since I last saw him.

We are silent for a minute or so, and then he continues.

"Well, I got a piece of shrapnel in my lower arm. They think it was from a grenade. Well, you know how you sort of just went numb after a while. So I didn't notice for ages."

I nod, and the way we understand each other feels so good, almost better than when my Dad and I got talking of our war experiences, because Ben was right beside me during those long days. He was there.

"I haven't a clue when I got hit with that, but either way, I never really noticed it, and it was such a small piece. I got the scratch on my shoulder cleaned up, but the other one was just a little nick and I never thought to look for a wound because ... " He pauses, and for a moment he stares off into space, distracted in the way I get when I start to remember that place. He turns and looks at me, and I nod that I understand what he means, how there was so much blood from other people on your uniform, not just yours. One scratch was hard to find. "So I hiked all the way to Port Stanley from there, and I was aching all over. I just thought I was tired - everyone was half dead on their feet. We just kept pressing on, and then the other side surrendered without a fight, so we were too busy being relieved about the whole thing for me to notice that I was coming down with a fever. Then I started to feel really sick, and one of the medics had a moment to spare and checked me out ... God, when I got a look at my arm, there was this spot, right by my elbow. It was just ..."

"Disgusting?" I offer.

"That'll do. Yes, disgusting ... and infected. So, they took me to the hospital ship right away by helicopter, and by then I was in a sort of feverish stupor. I don't really remember much of it. I think they tried to cut out the wound and kill off the infection with antibiotics, but it didn't work. My body must have been too exhausted to fight it off. I don't really remember that part, I was in such a haze. Once the fever started to go down, I guess I came to a bit, and at that point ... well, I didn't have an arm, and the hospital ship was on its way back with me on it. I'd heard that the rest of the boys got back some time before us.

"I stayed in a hospital in London for a little while until I was strong enough to go elsewhere, and then I went straight to Canada, where my sister was still living, even though You Know Who was gone. She wanted to stay, so I left Britain. I managed to get over really quickly because she squeaked me in through the Wizarding Immigration Services, and even though I'm not a wizard, she was able to get me through. She was all I had left, and that's probably why they let me in within a month or two. I think she told one of her friends who worked in that department the full sob story of me having to go off to war and all that. And that was where I stayed until my sister wanted to move back to be with family, and so her daughter could go to school here. So I came back. It's been strange. I'd left for Canada without saying goodbye to anyone, really. At the time I just wanted the hell out of here. I mean, first Joey died, and then you. I really thought you were dead ... I had heard about some boat going down when I woke briefly on the hospital ship. Something about a ship with wounded men going down ... I caught your name in there."

"Nobody died," I say. "But you were right ... I was on it. I was the only one, actually."

"Huh?" Ben says, confused.

"Well ... that's where my long story starts," I say with a pained smile.

"You don't have to say the whole thing, not unless you want to," Ben says softly.

"I don't mind telling you," I say after a moment, and then I start. And I am glad that I do, because Ben understands it every step of the way, more than I ever could have imagined.

"Then ... after all that ... after I tried to off myself," I finish bitterly, "the bastards gave me this."

I hold out the box with the medal, and Ben takes it.

"Shit," he mutters when he opens the box, his eyes widening in shock at the Victoria Cross. "You must have hated that."

"I did. I still do. In fact, I wanted to toss the damned thing away, but my mother didn't play fair and told me throwing away the medal would have made it so that being gone from Lily left me with so little to show for it. Maybe she has a point, I don't know."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Ben says. "I'm sorry about Lily. I couldn't imagine it - being told like that. And ... I know how you felt when you ... at least somewhat when you tried to ... well, you know."

I look at him, wondering.

"I never got to say goodbye to anyone, pretty much," Ben says to me quietly, looking ashamed of himself all of a sudden, "And some of the stuff I did, over there ... I just couldn't live with it. I tried to stay around, for Elly. She was the only thing I lived for, most days, and I knew her father was a bit of a slime even then, so she needed me too. She was the only one who didn't treat me like I might break any second. She looked up to me, still does I think, not that I always deserve it. Back then I tried to do what was right, for her, but after a while ... even that just didn't work."

A tear runs down his cheek, but he does not look away.

"Severus, I tried it too. The only difference is I didn't get a medal for it, but ... but it didn't work either."

"Ben," I begin, my stomach dropping to my toes. "When?"

"Five years ago," he says, his voice hoarse. "My sister Kate dropped in unexpectedly. I guess she was worried. She thought I was sick - I'd told her I had the flu so I didn't have to see anyone. But she came by to drop off some soup ... and she had Elly. I don't think Elly remembers, because when I apologized to her later, she didn't seem to know what I was talking about entirely. I don't know, maybe she blocked some of it out. But if she does remember, well, she's never mentioned it. I had a gun to my head and I was going to do it. I was shocked to see Elly, and she just started crying and I dropped my hand long enough for Kate to stun me with her wand. It was terrible for Elly, well, both of them, but Elly especially. I should never have ... I shouldn't ... not with Elly around. She was the only one who really saw me ... and I scared her so badly. It wasn't fair - I should never have even tried it, but the scary thing was that if she hadn't walked in, even with Kate there, I might have done it."

He looks down at his feet.

"Kate took me in to some muggle hospital for a while, and got me some help. Things aren't always easy now, but ... I don't feel so guilty anymore about surviving ... and there are good things in life. I'm glad now I didn't do it, and I'm happy again, but ... it doesn't quite erase the past. I know how you felt then, Severus, and now, too, wishing you never tried it."

I look at him, shocked. Ben. Ben. He was the strongest, the best. He carried me halfway down a mountain to save me from death, and even he had had enough one day. It took longer, but he did.

I'm not sure who starts it, but we're both crying, and neither of us seems to care. I grab a hold of his shoulder, and he grabs mine, and we bow our heads, our foreheads pressed together like brothers. Nobody's here to see, just us. The way I look at it, we have a right to cry. Our eyes have seen too much, and nothing can take those memories away, but at least having someone to share in your grief makes it easier to bear.

After a while, we break apart. We are silent for a long time, but it is enough just to know that the other is there.

"You know what the funny thing was?" Ben says at last, his voice quiet, thoughtful. "When Elly walked in, she reminded me of that day we got our letters on Ascension Island, and the picture of her first tooth, and then of you and the look on your face when you found out that Harry was born."

I look at him intently, and I nod.

"I never thought I would try it," I mutter hoarsely after another long silence. "I never thought I would try to kill myself, Ben. I never thought I would really want to do it."

"Neither did I."

"I still dream about it, sometimes."

"Do you ever wish you had done it?" Ben asks hesitantly. "Or wish you could still do it?"

I look at him, and tears fill my eyes. "Well ... some nights I almost do. It passes quickly now. It isn't like it used to be. I have Harry. I have my mother. There are others."

"I'm glad you never did," he says quietly.

"I'm glad you didn't."

"Me too," Ben tells me.

We smile slightly.

"Severus?"

 "Yeah?"

 "I don't know what Wizards do, but muggles have these people called Therapists ..." Ben mutters.

"Oh yeah, those are like Mind Healers."

"Right. Well, I went to one, and it actually ... helped."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, really. I mean, mine is back in Canada, so I couldn't recommend one, but it might help if you went to see a Mind Healer, or something."

"I never went to one. I should have, really. I just ... my case is so unusual, and still fairly top secret among the Ministry. Just never really found the right person, I guess."

"Give it a try, Sev. Really. It helps. Not at first. Kind of like a fever. It has to get hotter until it breaks, but when it does it's way better, I promise."

"Okay," I say, and I choke slightly as I say it, and have to look away.

"What?"

"It's just ... you reminded me of my Dad for a second there."

Ben looks at me knowingly. He seems to be able to tell that he isn't here anymore. Maybe the look on my face is enough.

"You know, he was a Vet, right?" I say quickly.

"Yeah, I remember you talking about him" Ben says to my surprise. "Korea, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I say, staring off into the distance. "He had it bad too, PTSD. Never got a diagnosis, but it couldn't have been anything else. You didn't really go talk about it in those days. You just lived with it, right? I remember as a kid, he never came to bonfire night. When I got back, I finally understood why he was that way. I really hope Harry never has to lose his enjoyment of fireworks. It was horrible for me after."

"Me too," Ben says quietly.

"I never really appreciated Dad until that night, I think, the first bonfire night since I was back," I mutter.

"Tell me about it," Ben says, intrigued. "What was your Dad like?"

So I tell him. The words come easily. I remember the smell of the kitchen and hear the click of the checkers on the board and the creak of my father's chair, the sound of people walking through the street. The story brings back everything, and with it comes the memory of another survivor, the one who was my hero not for what he did in war, but what he did at home.

      Ben listens, and from this story we spring into other stories, until night has fallen and the early hours of the morning arrive. Somehow, it doesn't seem like time has passed at all, but it has in the very same way that a decade has slipped away since we last saw each other. Maybe that's why the time we have doesn't seem to be enough.

The End.
End Notes:
Well, hope that one was alright. It makes me antsy posting something I've only had written for a few days, but with midterms, I've been a little busy! Only a few chapters left though. But hey, on a happier note, Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Canadians!


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