The Floo spat Snape out on the carpet of Dumbledore’s office. The man himself was sitting behind the desk, sipping a cup of tea and perusing what seemed to be an old book of spells.
“Ah, Severus” he said without looking up “How wonderful to see you. How did it go with Harry?”
Snape ignored him and took a moment to tidy himself up. He sat, unasked, upon the leather armchair and, clasping his hands in his lap, fixed the headmaster with the glare that scared even seasoned Death Eaters. Dumbledore rummaged for a moment and picked up a purple tin. “ Would you care for a sherbert lemon?”
Snape blinked. Damn the meddling old fool, he was good at this game.
“No, Headmaster, I would not. I would like to ask you a question.”
“Anything, Severus. Tea?”
“No.” Snape felt a tiny spike of anger in his veins, felt his heart rate go up ten or twelve beats in two seconds. Dumbledore played the grandfatherly part to a tee, always had, but he missed nothing. Doubtless, he enjoyed watching his difficult, irascible Potions Master twist in the wind.
“Headmaster, there seems to be a problem with Potter. The boy seems…off.”
“Off? Off how?” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, smiling serenely.
“As though his mind is troubled, but he cannot bring himself to tell anyone.”
“At his age--”
“No, not like that. As though he cannot bring himself to admit that he has been hurt. He cried uncontrollably, yet shrank from my touch. When I questioned him, he--he pinched himself. I couldn’t get a straight answer from him, and a simple dose of Soothing Syrup put him to sleep.”
Dumbledore looked momentarily blank. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Severus, but what would you have me do?”
Snape sat up straight, unable to believe it. Dumbledore, not oblivious to the child’s suffering as much as indifferent? The Golden boy, his favorite, their savior?
“Albus, this child shows every sign of having a serious problem. Are you not eager to discover why?”
Dumbledore’s twinkle was wholly gone. He looked old, and tired. His shoulders hunched. When he looked at Snape, his face showed the weariness of his long life. “Severus, I cannot be all things to all people. The boy’s life may not be ideal, but I’m sure it will all sort itself out in time. Our concern is to keep him safe so he can fulfill his destiny.”
Snape felt sure for a moment that he had misheard. The man couldn’t care less. He was content to watch Potter rip himself apart inside, so long as the boy could be a good little pawn and do his bit.
“Is it that easy, Headmaster? You just close your eyes and let the world move on about you? Potter is suffering, perhaps seriously, and you simply do not look?” “Now, really, Severus, that’s hardly fair--”
“Fair? There’s nothing fair about this, old man. Potter’s is not the only problem you’ve ever ignored. Other have been hurt through your blindness.”
“I believe we have discussed what happened with the Marauders, Severus. Mistakes were made, I grant you that, but--”
“What about Tobias? I begged you, begged you for help, and did you even once spare me a moment of that attention which you gave the others?”
“And for that I apologize. The fact remains, there’s very little we can do for Harry. The situation must be endured.”
“I disagree. You have the influence to step in and--”
“The situation is much more complex than that. Lily Potter’s sacrifice was made from pure love, and that love is all that protects Harry from You Know Who and his minions. The wards will hold another four years. We cannot endanger him until then.”
“ We cannot allow him to go home to his relatives in this shape. As emotionally unstable as the boy is, he’s likely to have a catastrophic bout of accidental magic. The wards are no good if he’s blown the muggles up in a fit of pique.”
“What would you suggest, Severus?”
“Couldn’t another family take him? The Weasleys, for example, or Andromeda Tonks and her husband?’
“We cannot give him to a family, it’s much too dangerous. It’s safer he stay where he is.”
“ Suppose he goes back and the situation worsens, headmaster. Do you really think they’ll owl us if Potter is too depressed to eat? He could hurt himself.”
“That is merely a risk we must take.”
“This is a human life you’re talking about. Is there no alternative?”
“The wards could be transferred. It’s difficult, but it can be done. And it would take a terrible sacrifice on the part of whomever took him in.”
“Sacrifice?”
“To transfer a blood ward, the wizard to whom it is being transferred must make an Unbreakable oath.”
“ I see.”
Snape’s own nature would ordinarily have encouraged him to end it there, to walk away. Potter’s home life might or might not have been ideal, but it wasn’t as though they were torturing him or starving him. His demeanor indicated a lack of discipline, certainly, but that was neither here nor there in terms of the potions master.
He found he couldn’t. The evening had started with Snape’s attempt to quiet the ghosts of his past and assuage a little of his guilt, and if his methods had been a bit… extreme, he felt as though he had gotten through.
It was the tears which did it. He wanted to know what could make a boy, hurting, sad, angry, utterly alone, stop crying with the finality of a man shutting a window. And it in woke in him some memory of another skinny dark haired boy, whose tears had been ignored and sired rage instead. Rage, and an almost consuming madness, a desire to strike back which had cost innocent lives. The Mark on his arm seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, seemed burned into his very soul.
He had no family, no friends, nothing that bound him to anyone or anything. As a spy, his life was inevitably going to be short and brutal. He would never marry or have a child of his own; perhaps by helping this one child, he could atone, just a little, for what he had done.
“Suppose, Albus, I were to take him.”
“Suppose you did. In many ways you are the ideal candidate. Still…” Dumbledore trailed off significantly.
“ ‘Still’? We agree that I am a suitable candidate, and you express some reservation which you cannot bring yourself to name? Dumbledore lost for words at last?”
“I wonder why you would want to bind yourself to a child you hate.”
Dumbledore smiled, not a twinkly smile but a slow, almost sly quirk of the mouth. “ I am wondering who it is you are trying to save.”
Snape got very quiet and very still, which never meant anything good. His face flushed red high along the cheekbones. “You dare impugn my motives when you were content to watch him destroy himself?”
Dumbledore cocked his head. “ She’s dead, Severus. Doing this will not bring her back.”
Snape had heard enough. He walked, shaking, to the fire place and prepared to throw a pinch of Floo powder from the ceramic jar on the mantel.
“Severus” he turned to look at the headmaster, still too angry to talk “Is nine o’clock acceptable?”
“For what?”
“For the oath ceremony.”
Snape brought himself to nod, just once, and then was gone. The last thing he saw as the room began to whirl was Dumbledore, twinkling at him with hard blue eyes.
XXXXXX
The first thing Snape heard in his office was the boy’s moans and cries.
“Sirius, no, please….I’m sorry…..no…..” It trailed off in mumbles and whimpering groans. Snape was unsure, and decided to wake the boy if it got any worse. He tried to grade a stack of papers, but the sounds from the couch were simply too distracting.
“Potter. Potter! Wake up!”
The boy jerked awake with a start. “Hunh! S-Snape?”
“Professor Snape. You were having a bad dream.”
Harry tried to sit up and found he was unable. It was as though he was held down by pieces of invisible spello tape.
“Unstick me, I want to get down.”
Snape smiled the way a cat smiles at a small defenseless bird with a broken wing.
“Have we forgotten what few manners we had to begin with, Potter?”
Harry glowered. Miserable greasy git. “Please, sir, may I get up and go now?”
Snape never even considered. “No.”
“But you just said--”
“I never said you could go. You’ll stay with me tonight.”
“But why? ”
“Because I’ve decided that is what’s best. Perhaps if you ask nicely, I’ll allow you to use my guest bed.”
Harry was in no mood to play Snape’s little game.
“This is stupid. I feel just--”
Snape moved fast. He was looming over Harry like a bat before the child had time to finish his whine. “I did not, Mr. Potter, ask after the state of your feelings, nor do I remember asking whether you approved or not. I don’t know how else to make this plain for you” Snape bent over Harry and took the boy’s jaw in his hand, making him look Snape right in the eyes as he spoke
“You. Are. A. Child. You. Do. Not. Get. To. Decide. Adults. Decide. For. You.”
Harry glared ferociously. “You can’t just keep me forever. You’ll have to let me sometime, and I’ll tell Dumbledore. He’ll--”
“Yes, Potter, by all means run and tell on me. See what the headmaster says about it. Tomorrow. Tonight, you will stay with me and rest.” He held up a hand.
“ You can, however, choose to make your time as pleasant or unpleasant as possible. If you behave, I will give you a vial of Dreamless Sleep so you will not have nightmares. I might even feel moved to give you a little aloe for those stripes.”
“If, on the other hand, you behave like the brat you are, I will carry you to my chambers just like this, and simply force feed a potion of my choosing, which might be a good deal less pleasant than Dreamless Sleep ever was. Or, I could simply stick you on a stool in the Potions classroom. At least you’d be on time for a change come Monday. It’s your choice.”
Harry seethed. Miserable, mean, unfair, unkind, selfish, cold bastard. Wait until Dumbledore heard tell of this. He’d --
“Well? Which is it?”
The thought of another sleepless night, writhing under the effects of some awful potion, or else being stuck for days in the dark, chilly dungeons by himself was too much to bear.
“The first one.”
“The first one what?”
“The first one, please, sir.”
Snape gave him a distinctly nasty half smile and muttered the counter charm. Harry’s limbs felt as though they had been asleep for hours. His arms and legs were achy and tingling, and his backside was still uncomfortably warm and stinging. He longed to rub a bit, but he’d be damned before the greasy bat got to mock his weakness over that as well.
Harry got up and followed Snape, who took him to a part of the dungeon he had never been in before. Snape whispered a password and they were in.
It was plain but warm, and very clean. Books were lined up in orderly rows on all four walls. Snape showed him to the guest bedroom, which had a small but inviting bed and even more books. Harry climbed into the bed, wishing to keep Snape sweet until he could escape his clutches. Snape glowered at him a little, then disappeared for a moment. He returned with the promised vial of Dreamless Sleep.
“I’m not tired yet.” Even as he said it, Harry knew it was not true. The catnap in the office had whet his appetite for more sleep, and he fought not to ruin his protest with a yawn.
“You don’t have to be. I have no intention of letting you out of my sight until morning at the very earliest. Of course, if you’ve changed your mind…”
“No! Sir.”
Snape fought a smile. The boy was not wholly stupid when it came to certain things. Perhaps, with help, he might have made a passable Slytherin after all. Harry drank the vial dry. Immediately, his eyes grew unbearably heavy, his body filled with sand. It was all he could do to roll onto his side and off his sore backside. He was asleep within seconds.
Potter sniffled a bit in his sleep. Snape hoped he was not getting sick. That was the last thing anyone needed. Still, as a precaution, Snape pulled the quilt under the boy’s chin and tucked him in.
Snape nodded, satisfied. He would go tomorrow and see the Muggles Potter lived with. They would give him the boy. All he’d need to do is persuade them; how hard could that be?