It was January and Severus knew that his progress with Potter was not what it should be. The boy seemed to enjoy the private lessons, but the level of rapport that was necessary wasn’t there. Albus was deteriorating further and plans were being formed, however all of them rested on Severus’ relationship with Potter.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d come to enjoy his afternoons with Potter. The boy was actually very bright. Potter had some unconventional methods for brewing which Severus had never considered or seen and the boy had left some wonderful notes on some of the potions they’d worked on.

A working relationship had been bred, however it was not a trusting relationship. Potter needed to be able to speak to him and ultimately to trust him.

So one afternoon, Severus decided that a further step needed to be taken. The boy had free time after DADA, Severus merely needed to act on it.

As class ended, Severus called Potter over. The boy did seem more relaxed around him he noted with satisfaction. He didn’t quite meet Severus’ eyes but he didn’t seem to be absolutely terrified. Severus had been making attempts to be civil and even kind to the boy outside of the private Potions lessons.

“Professor?” Potter said, looking a little anxious.

“I was wondering if you’d mind staying for tea, I wished to talk to you about your work.”

Potter hesitated, and Severus watched the extreme indecision in the boy. Finally Potter nodded his head.

“Of course, Professor,” Potter said.

Severus managed a small smile and was again pleased to see the boy smile in response. It seemed that he was making progress. Severus had to reassure himself that this self-torture was worthwhile. Though the Potions lessons had not been unbearable, Severus still loathed having to pretend his interest and care.

They settled comfortably, Severus transfiguring his desk into a low table before summoning tea and scones. Potter adjusted himself in the chair, looking unsure. Severus had never really sat down to talk to the boy, and he was hoping to create an environment which would lend to the boy taking Severus, in whatever capacity, into his confidence.

“You seem to be having difficulty with the advanced stunning spell,” Severus said casually, hoping this would be an easy option for easing the boy into expressing his vulnerabilities verbally, an important step in trusting someone.

Potter gave a nod, hunching. It seemed like an instinctive response to whenever the boy felt fearful. Severus anticipated this.

“Why do you think that is?” Severus asked, portraying a genuine, well-intentioned teacher trying to coax out an answer without giving it.

“I’m not-not studying, or trying, or-or-” Potter stuttered, fumbling about for an answer he obviously thought would please Severus.

It was a left over knee-jerk response which Severus had instilled in the boy from constant belittlement and rhetoric questions he demanded an answer for but for which he had not desired an honest answer, rather a self-demeaning one. Severus bit his tongue to keep from snapping. His mood soured as he realized that this was all his own fault, but with waspish annoyance threw that thought to the side. It was what it was.

“You try hard, and you obviously are quite studious with the text, you’ve proved you know the theory. What is holding you back?”

Potter stared. It had been two months and still the boy seemed surprised every time Severus actually attempted constructive criticism. The boy accepted it and his eyes fell to his lap, he licked his lips nervously.

“It’s the, hurting people, sir,” Potter said softly.

Severus blinked. Hurting people, Potter was concerned with hurting people.

Severus was not a kind man, he’d been raised in a chaotic and unforgiving household, had gone through Hogwarts with little lenience given and when he’d committed a crime he had been punished lastingly and thoroughly. Life had always shown that it would be a give and take, a tit for tat, sharp immediate demand that always, always extricated emolument. A cry of worry over hurting people came across to him as pathetic and weak, cowardly even. However, it also made him think of Lily, the only part of his life which had ever extended patience and kindness, unconditional regard.

Severus wanted to lecture the child on the cruelty of the world, but he held his tongue. Lies, he thought, lies are what mattered here, not cold hard truths. He needed to blindfold the lamb for the slaughter, not let it see its surrounding misery.

“You don’t like hurting people, do you?” Severus said softly.

Potter met his gaze and Severus was taken aback at the depth of understanding in the boy’s eyes.

“No sir,” Potter replied.

Severus was silent.

“Not many people are that way,” Severus said, being honest.

Potter looked ashamed.

“I-I know it’s cowardly,” he whispered, eyes lowered.

“Only when you are unwilling to stand by the principle,” Severus said.

He considered the boy.

“The stunning spell does not truly damage individuals, it can be the means of protection, of keeping many people from harm. Maybe instead of demonstrating in class on other students we can have you practice with me, I am more than capable of blocking all spells you cast.”

Potter looked up, again appearing shocked.

“You’d do that, sir, for me?”

“You must learn to defend yourself, and others, from harm.”

Potter gave a small smile and Severus pretended like it didn’t make him think of Lily, that it didn’t please him.

He then asked Potter about his other classes, the boy spoke about them in a faltering way, unused to anyone asking and even more uncomfortable with answering to Severus. Severus kept it going only a few minutes, knowing it would take more of these little “chats” to get the boy comfortable talking with him. He moved onto the topic of Potions and the conversation eased into a pleasant and even energetic discussion. Severus was surprised when he looked at the time and realized that he’d spent over an hour with Potter having actually greatly enjoyed himself.

The boy left looking less subdued than usual.


XxX


“It’s been going well?”

Draco said nothing, mouth dipped down in a sour expression. Severus felt his impatience flare. The boy was being impossible as usual. Why did the child not see that he was trying to help?

“You didn’t kill Potter,” the boy said, glaring.

Severus’ lip curled. He hated children, but he hated young adults even more. So sure, so determined and so obstinately idiotic.

“And you have failed to kill the Headmaster, something you’ve actually been charged with doing,” Severus snapped back, a much more impressive glare than Draco’s being summoned.

The boy was nearly pouting, his emotions a mess from both the circumstances and the unfortunate existence of hormones.

“Why?” Draco asked.

Severus narrowed his eyes.

“If you cannot already understand my position and actions to sustain it, than I doubt explaining it to you will help you comprehend, you obdurate and impotent child.”

“I thought you said he was the enemy, that the Dark Lord wants him dead,” Draco argued.

“Yet the Dark Lord values the confidence the Headmaster places in me above even the death of a negligibly competent sixth year. I know my position very well, but I am afraid that you do not.”

Severus watched the light of understanding dawn in the boy’s eyes and withheld his desire to smack intelligence into the boy.

“Now, you will tell me what your plans are, and we will see if they are as foolhardy as the rest.”


XxX


Severus was lecturing, pacing the front of the room as the chalk magically smacked against the board to produce his curved yet practical handwriting. The students were taking notes and for the most part there was peace.

He ordered them to read a portion of the text and to then summarize it. Moving about the room, his mouth was drawn in a thin line as he lost himself in thought, eyes barely taking in the scratching quills and the open textbooks.

Draco Malfoy’s plan wasn’t terrible, in fact, if the boy was successful it could present a deadly success. Severus was vaguely familiar with the cabinets in question which the boy was trying to fix. Such a from of transportation which pervaded all wards, no matter the strength, was extremely dangerous. He could imagine Death Eaters storming the castle from within, Draco an unwitting accomplice in what Severus could only presume would be many casualties.

He’d informed Albus and the man had told Severus to do nothing. Severus knew the man was plotting and planning, but if he didn’t let Severus know what exactly those plans were, there wasn’t much way to make sure they happened. Foolish, self-important, secretive-

Severus’ internal tirade came to a sudden halt as there was the sound of a chair crashing to the floor. Severus spun on his heel, face twisting with displeasure and intending on making the student who had dared to interrupt his class suffer his complete wrath.

It faded though as he saw who it was and why it had happened.

It was Potter, he’d fallen to the floor and was twitching and jerking. Granger, one of the few to hesitantly pair up with Potter from time to time was staring in shock at the scene. Severus knew exactly what it was.

“Out,” he snapped, moving to Potter’s side.

The boy’s eyes were rolled back and only the whites could be seen. Severus eased the boy into the recovery position and with his wand marked the time it had started. There wasn’t much else he could do except wait out the seizure.

The students were gawking, only a few having made it as far as placing a book into their bag.

“Out!” Severus roared.

Everyone stumbled to their feet and the scrape of chairs against flagstone screeched through the room. Severus would deal with the missed class time at a later point.

When Potter’s body finally settled, collapsing limp against the floor, Severus saw that he was unconscious. Severus transfigured one of the desks into a settee and with a flick of his wand raised the boy onto it. Casting a quick charm, he sent a small message to Poppy.

Meanwhile, Severus sat back. There wasn’t much to be done. He’d heard of the boy’s seizures and Professor Septima Vector had spoken of one occurring during her Arithmancy class the previous year, yet he had never seen it. He had seen the symptom though, it was caused by overexposure to the cruciatus curse, something altered in the brain which could not be fixed but could be helped. Lord knows how many people he’d seen suffer through it if they weren’t killed by the Dark Lord immediately after torture.

Several minutes later, Poppy appeared. She looked fiercely worried, brow dark and nearly thunderous. Severus had no doubt the woman was cursing the Headmaster.

“How is he?” She asked, brushing Severus to the side and procuring her wand and several potions.

“It was a minute three seconds,” Severus informed her, knowing that was the only useful information.

Poppy gave a nod.

“Well, he’s-” Poppy didn’t get to finish as Potter awoke and immediately threw up.

Severus banished the mess while Poppy spoke soothingly to the pale, shocky boy. The boy was mumbling, looking absolutely confused and terrified.

“Severus, a hand if you will,” Poppy said, busy with preparing a potion which needed to be mixed with another.

Severus was reluctant to be close to the boy. He knelt though and gripped Potter’s forearm to keep the boy upright. Potter was trembling minutely and he looked very pale and sweaty.

“Here you are,” Poppy said, holding up the potion and pressing it into the boy’s hand.

Potter’s hand and fingers were trembling too much to keep his grip and Poppy helped him guide the potion to his mouth. Severus kept his grip on the boy’s forearm and felt the boy’s fingers weakly clutching back.

“We’ll get the next ones done nice and fast, then you’ll have a lie down in the Hospital Wing,” Poppy said, summoning a smile for the boy’s benefit.

Potter managed a small nod.

“Severus, would you help me bring him up?” Poppy asked.

Severus hesitated, he’d had no forewarning and usually he mentally prepared himself before his interactions with Potter. He was afraid that he would be unable to stay in character.

He glanced at the boy’s confused, glazed over eyes and realized that it would not be difficult to act.

“Of course,” Severus assented with a murmur.

Poppy had him supporting the boy on one side while she gathered the items she’d brought with her. She cast a quick lightening spell on the boy making Severus’ only task to keep him upright and moving.

“I’m going ahead to prepare, don’t floo with him, he’s too unstable.”

Severus gave a nod. He’d rather not be caught practically carrying the blighted child through the castle, however, he would need to bite his pride, for the sake of the wizarding world.

They made it to the Hospital Ward with no gawking thanks to a notice-me-not charm Severus had cast. Poppy was waiting, a bed ready and a push tray filled with items by the bedside.

“Thank you, Severus,” Poppy said, taking Potter from him and laying him down.

Severus watched the proceedings for a few minutes before turning on his heel. Potter would be fine and him lingering would do nothing to aid the boy’s recovery. It would do well though to speak with Poppy about the condition and learn all he could.


XxX


Potter looked unsure, shifting from foot to foot as he stood in front of Severus’ desk.

“Please, sit,” Severus said, waving a gracious hand at the chair.

Potter sat down, clutching his bag to his chest anxiously.

“You missed the end part of my lecture, I wanted to make sure you were able to get the notes.”

Potter looked confused, painfully so. Even after so long, the boy still took every kindness from Severus with a great amount of confusion and apprehension.

“Granger shared her notes with me, sir,” Potter replied.

Severus gave a nod and an awkward silence fell, Potter twisting his fingers in nervous habit. Severus needed to make a little headway with the boy, he’d planned on sharing the information from the class and had underestimated Granger’s willingness to interact with the boy, maybe his interference with the bullying and so to speak, “setting the story straight”, had made a bigger impact on how the students treated the boy.

“Madame Pomfrey told me you’ve had eleven, now twelve, seizures in the last two years,” Severus stated.

Potter gave an indifferent nod and it was silent again.

“I’ve spoken with her and a colleague who is knowledgeable about your, condition,” Severus said, studying the boy.

It was easy enough to do as Potter’s gaze was steadfastly fixed to the floor. The boy held himself like a wounded animal and he was so afraid. If Severus recalled correctly, this behavior had always existed but had become more extreme following the boy’s fourth year. If Severus had to guess, Crouch had exacerbated an already existing fear and condition. Dumbledore had said he regretted many things, Severus had assumed he meant this in reference to the incident with Crouch, maybe it was something else.

“It seems that I have the skills and means to help you with a form of recovery, and to help you better manage the symptoms.”

Potter looked up, a wary hope in his gaze.

“Sir?” He said, sounding confused.

Severus withheld himself from snapping.

“I’m offering to help you Potter,” Severus clarified.

“I know, sir, but I meant, how, Madame Pomfrey said it was incurable,” Potter’s tone was still meek, but the words were a little more bold than usual and Severus could see the fruit of at least some of his labours.

“Matters of the mind are very difficult to understand, we can often create conditions while having no comprehension of what it is we are doing. Occlumency and legilimency are two arts which are highly complex and involve two parties: one, performing legilimency, and entering the other’s mind while the other, performing occlumency, attempts to shield themselves from those efforts. However, it can also give the few witches and wizards capable of either or both arts, the skills to protect and strengthen their mind.”

Potter was paying fast attention to Severus, countenance serious.

“In this case, I can attempt to teach you how to shield your mind from itself.”

Potter gave a small nod.

“It is a difficult subject, very difficult, and having one enter your mind, as I would have to do, would leave you very vulnerable.”

Severus waited, watching the boy. He wanted to seem like he was giving him options, but ultimately his goal was for the boy to agree. Anything to strengthen the child’s belief in Severus before the Headmaster’s inevitable passing and his own actions, premeditated though they were by both him and the Headmaster, frightened the child from going along with him.

“I appreciate the offer, Professor, I really do, but, I-” the boy broke off, as if his throat were closing up and he stared in terrified trepidation at Severus.

Severus did not let his frustration show.

“Of course, it is a lot to agree to and shouldn’t be taken lightly. The offer stands for as long as you are willing to consider it,” Severus replied kindly instead of shouting at the boy that this was for his own good and forcing him into it.

Potter weakly smiled, obviously reassured by Severus’ response but still fearful.

“Thank you, Professor,” the boy rose hastily and left the room.

Severus noted that the boy’s hands had been shaking.


XxX


Thursday came and went, the hour dedicated to potions making going by much too fast for Severus’ taste. He would claim it was because he was running out of time, but in truth he greatly enjoyed the time and was starting to look forward to it. It cast a sense of unease in him. He’d always hated Potter, the boy stood for everything he’d lost and represented everything he’d suffered. He slipped from time to time during the potion making, used the first name of the boy or snipped out some piece of sarcastic humor, unexpectedly receiving a quiet, yet dryly humorous response in turn. Harry seemed to forget as well, the boy completely relaxing and the small smile on his face reaching his eyes and lighting them up in a way that was uniquely his own.

For a short time every week, Severus forgot Lily and he forgot Potter, instead seeing only Harry. He chided himself for those moments, forgetting oneself lead to mistakes, it left you with your guard down and could mean death. There was also a terrible vein of self-castigation, one Severus did not often recognize for if he did it would draw up the roots of his deepest regrets, his ugliest actions, and to allow himself those minutes of repose with the boy, forgetting who he was, what he’d done, what he needed to do and be, it was unacceptable.

Severus shook his head, glancing about his office. He’d often wished to sit here, have this position. Now it felt oppressive, gained by only the barest whit and at the greatest need. Albus had granted him the position as DADA teacher because it was his only option. Bitterness rose and Severus felt himself stir with the need to be elsewhere.

Standing, he set his quill down and sent a disdainful glance to the pile of essays he was grading. Stepping from his office he began strolling down the hallways.

It was late, a waning moon shining weakly through the windows and reflecting gloomily off of the lake. Severus felt the stone walls around him as a bulwark to his senses, the smell of the ancient corridors was earthy and faintly musky, one so familiar that it nearly brought back a multitude of memories. In this instant all these things eased the tension in his breast. Hogwarts was his home.

He’d often been faulted by many students for stalking the halls in pursuit of meting out punishment and destroying every child’s happiness. More often than not he took to the halls to ease his mind and happening upon a student in the middle of doing something they shouldn’t obliterated any sense of peace he gained from his walking.

Tonight his legs took him up, mounting the stairs and headed to the astronomy tower. Professor Sinistra did not hold class tonight and it would be empty.

It was empty and Severus slowed his pace, gaze lingering over the dark, shadowy figures of the orbital rings which descended from the floor to the ceiling. Stepping further into the room he halted suddenly as he realized he was not alone.

There stood Potter, at one of the palladian arches, leaned against the brick and toes right up against the open air. Severus’ jaw tightened. The boy looked like he was contemplating jumping. Severus waited and watched, unwilling to make his presence known yet. He quickly cast a obfuscation charm on himself and stepped silently back into the shadows.

After quite some time, Potter moved away from the opening and turned. Severus saw the green eyes weighed with sorrow and pain, nearly empty and hollow. The boy glanced back at the opening with an intense look of yearning and Severus tensed, readying his wand. Potter turned away though and headed down the steps.

Severus waited till it was completely quiet and Potter was definitely gone.

He moved to the opening Potter had stood at and looked out for a few moments, as if he could recapture what the boy had seen which he so greatly desired.

The peace he’d been hoping to gain had been resolutely lost.


XxX


Severus met a few more times for tea with Potter, the boy growing more comfortable with talking of his other classes and his other interests. Severus learned that Potter held an avid interest in Herbology, and that, something he’d not known, Professor Sprout had allowed the boy complete access to all of the greenhouses. In fact, one of the boy’s greatest joys was being able to help care for the plants during his off hours and then help prepare them for use in potions.

Severus was again impressed by the boy, he would have made a very fine Potions Master.

Severus also learned that Potter struggled greatly in Charms --if still getting stellar marks in the class constituted struggling-- and that he struggled less so in Transfiguration. The boy didn’t talk much and it took a lot for Severus to pry much more than cursory responses from the boy.

They were meeting again today in a few minutes. Severus was in a better mood than usual and he felt that ground would be broken in this meeting.

A soft knock came at the door and a moment later the door opened. Potter was standing there, a red mark, which was quickly forming into a bruise, on his face; it encompassed all of his right cheek. Blood was drying and flaking on his lip and chin, but Severus would guess there had been a lot more because the front of Potter’s robes were wet and rumpled from what was obviously an extempore cleaning in the bathroom.

“Potter,” Severus said as way of greeting.

Potter gave a nod and sat down in a rush. Severus could see that the boy was shaking. Severus saw an opportunity, one which, if handled carefully, would give Severus the advancement he’d been hoping for. Potter was vulnerable, and that left an opening for Severus. Albeit a very small and very precarious opening.

Severus was silent, watching Potter as he summoned a bruise balm and a small towel.

The boy was hunched in on himself, gaze distant and to the floor, and his books were held to his chest but with lax fingers.

“Here,” Severus said quietly, extending a small pain relieving potion he kept in stasis at his desk for the migraines he got correcting papers.

Potter startled, looked up at Severus with a haunted stare and blinked in confusion at the bottle. Severus said nothing, merely keeping it held out to the boy.

Potter took it and hesitated.

“It will relieve the pain,” Severus explained.

Potter gave a nod and opened his mouth, as if he were to ask something, and then shut it. Severus did not watch him as he took the potion, instead wetting the cloth. He waited until Potter had finished taking the potion before extending a hand. Potter returned the vial to Severus and took the wet cloth that was proffered to him. Then Severus opened the bruise balm.

Potter handed the cloth back and met Severus’ gaze as he took the bruise balm. Potter’s eyes were wide and grateful, an openness Severus had yet to see in all of his interactions with the boy.

When Potter had finished applying the bruise balm he handed it back to Severus, eyes downcast.

“Thank you, Professor,” Potter spoke softly.

It was quiet and Severus pondered the next move. Intuition guided him to a choice he wasn’t sure how comfortable he felt with making. Severus however had long learned that his intuition was what had kept him alive for so long and what had enabled him to excel.

“I never did learn how to completely alleviate the pain. Reduce the swelling, hide the discoloration, accelerate the healing, all those were doable. I could even dispel the physical pain, however, being beaten by fellow students for no reason, the injustice was a pain I never relieved.”

Severus had his attention diverted as he spoke, taking his time putting away the bruise balm in his desk. When he looked up he saw Potter staring at him in complete and utter surprise.

“Sir?” Potter whispered.

Severus shrugged, breaking eye contact with the boy to look at his desk. He pretended to busy with the potion bottle.

“Do you feel up to tea?” Severus said, smiling faintly and intentionally changing the topic.

Potter gave a small nod but he could see that the boy was hooked by the subject. He just needed to let it ruminate in the boy for a little bit. Potter seemed to have a great deal of sympathy and empathy, such a connection with his professor on so personal a level would not be easily passed up by the boy.

Severus transfigured his desk into the low table with all the regular accoutrements. Tea and scones were delivered from the kitchen and Severus poured himself a cup.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Severus appearing relaxed and comfortable. Potter, however, he could see was struggling in thought and in reaching a decision.

“Sir?” Potter asked, looking up at Severus.

“Yes,” Severus replied, meeting Potter’s gaze with as sincere a look as he could muster.

“What if they have a reason?”

Severus froze. He had not been expecting that. His lack of immediate response was unintentional but it prompted Potter to continue.

“I-I wonder, because, ever since, I don’t remember, but always, always, and I’ve always tried. But do they have a reason? They must, don’t they? To do it so, and always. I don’t mean to do anything bad, I’ve always tried to be good, but always,” Potter’s voice was pleading, a cry in it which choked off at the end.

Severus felt his own emotions turnover in him at the tone. Pity did not escape, it didn’t, but a small tiny part of him screamed with kinship to the feeling. He’d been that desperate before, so crushed under events, wondering what he’d done to deserve this, why he couldn’t be different, how he could be different. Now, twenty years later, he’d realized that his father had just been a drunk bastard, his mother a weak prideful and ultimately impussiant women, that no matter who or what he’d been the circumstances and events would have crushed him despite.

“Sometimes,” Severus croaked, not having expected this emotion, so heavy and real, to come, “sometimes cruelty finds us, to no fault of our own. There are some who cannot forgive others their happiness.”

Potter was shaking still, and the boy gave a nod, lips trembling.

“But why?” Potter plead.

Severus shook his head, anger rearing at the punitive and unfair nature of life. Bitterness was drawn up from a well that had been dug by every event which had turned Severus with its pain. Life was unfair and there was nothing in the world which would remedy that. You lived and you died or lived to suffer.

He managed to draw this back in before he said something damaging, Potter did not need to hear that. The boy needed some pitiful credence which would reassure him. Severus however still needed to be genuine. Suddenly his mind turned to Lily. She had been kind, good, for no other reason than that she just was. Severus shuddered with grief.

“I’m not sure,” he said honestly, “but we choose who we are and what we will do.”

Potter gave another nod and Severus saw that the boy had tears on his face.

Severus let the boy cry. Minutes passed with the soft and quiet sounds filling the office. Severus let his mind wander to his own past, to his present which was shaped by it. He had chosen to hate, to be angry in response to all the anger and hate beaten into him. He was still bitter, still broken and a mutilated figure limping forward with his weak good intentions.

Lily was so good and he aspired to be like her, but for every criticism he threw at his students, he doubled those he speared himself with. He’d long ago resigned himself to what he was. Yet ever he pursued the weak light of goodness that had marked him so many years ago.

When Potter finished, Severus offered him a small kerchief and a sincere look of empathy, the first he’d yet given. The boy wiped his nose and kept his eyes down. Severus handed him a warmed cup of milk he’d summoned from the kitchens.

The boy drank it, the silence in the office appropriate and not uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Professor,” Potter said softly.

“It is nothing,” Severus replied, still feeling emotionally strained himself.

Potter smiled sweetly, a smile reminiscent of Lily’s yet holding an understanding which Lily had never had. Severus found it oddly fulfilling.

Potter stood and hefted his bag up, gratitude in his gaze.

Severus saw the door shut and felt a little unsettled. He’d been far more forthcoming than he’d ever intentioned. It left him feeling rumpled and strange.