Three days later:

Apparently, Sirius' little talk had done some good for Harry, since the boy was able to sleep peacefully for the next three days following their first session. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Severus, who found it impossible to sleep without first checking on Harry when he first went to bed at ten o'clock, and then slept for an hour then woke up and went to check on the boy again, afraid he was having a nightmare. Then Severus discovered he could not fall back asleep because he kept fearing Harry would wake and try to dose himself again with some unknown substance. His own dreams were phantoms of finding his son dead of some kind of potions overdose, of rushing into Harry's room and discovering his body, cold and unresponsive, never to wake again. Though he had taken extra precautions after the latest epidsode and confiscated all of Harry's potion-making ingredients and kit as well as his texts, still he was haunted by what could have been.

A dozen times a night Severus woke shivering and sweating, and had to creep into his son's room to make sure everything was all right. Most times he found Harry deep in slumber, occasionally twitching and whimpering a bit, but not in the throes of a nightmare. Hedwig thought it exceedingly odd that Severus would come and go so many times during the night, and offered to watch Harry after Warrior explained what had happened. Even so, Severus' anxiety was not appeased. The specter of what-might-have-been had grasped him and held him fast, and he was unable to get any rest.

As a result, he was surly and short-tempered during the day, and Harry started to avoid him, or risk being given the sharp edge of his father's tongue. He took to flying further from Spinner's End, and even to making small talk with some of the neighbors on the street. He met another boy his age, named Paul Mosier, who lived two houses down and Paul invited him to play cricket in his yard. Harry took him up on his offer, though he hadn't played cricket since primary school.

Paul was a gangly boy, all arms and legs, slender with a fine-boned face framed by brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He noticed right off that Harry was not up to certain current standards, and Harry had to explain to him that he spent nine months of the year in a boarding school in the "wilds of Scotland" where they didn't have TV and just about had electricity and that's why he was behind the current culture.

"Lord, but sounds like it's more of a prison than a school," Paul remarked one afternoon. "You sure you're not a criminal, Harry?"

Harry snickered. "Oh, right. I shoot old ladies for fun and rob primary-schoolers. I'm known as Harry the Horrible, Paul."

Paul grinned. "Figured that. Sorry, but that must really suck, having to go to a school like that. What do you do for fun there?"

"Uh . . .we play football." Harry said, trying to come up with a sport he knew a bit about. Football was a safe bet since Dean had taught him everything about it. "And golf."

"You any good?"

Harry shrugged. "No, but it's better than learning about botany and chemistry. Oh and they teach falconry over there too. Now that's a wicked sport."

"Really? Have you ever flown a bird?"

Harry hid a smile, wishing he could tell Paul that he had not only flown a bird, he could become one. "A few times."

"Wicked!" Paul said, envy staining his tone. "Wish I could. You have all the luck."

Harry spent the rest of that afternoon discussing falconry with his new friend. He was so engrossed in his topic that he quite forgot about the time and as a result was late getting back home.

He found an irate Severus pacing the den and looking ready to start climbing the walls. As soon as Harry set a sneaker across the threshold, Snape pounced.

"Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is?" His glare could have skewered a knight in full armor.

"What? I'm only seven minutes late. Sorry, I lost track of time." Harry apologized.

"Don't you give me that, young man! You didn't even leave a note so I knew where you were," snarled Severus. "Anything could have happened to you!"

Harry stared at him. "Da, I was just down the street with Paul, the kid I met yesterday. What's the big deal?"

"I expect you home at a certain time for a reason, Harry! Now supper's gone cold and you made me frantic wondering where you were. What have you to say for yourself?"

"I said I was sorry. I can re-heat supper for you. I didn't mean to make you worry, we were talking about hawks and stuff. I'm fifteen, for Merlin's sake, not five!" he snapped. Perhaps it wasn't the best thing to say under the circumstances, but Harry was annoyed at being yelled at for something so minor.

"Then maybe you ought to start acting like it! Just for that, you can scrub five of my cauldrons tonight."

"What? But I didn't do anything!"

"You're disrespectful and cheeky and if you think I'm going to put up with that attitude—"

"What attitude? I'm not the one flipping out over seven minutes, Da."

"Would you like to be grounded also?" the other retorted.

"I don't believe this!" Harry muttered , throwing up his hands. "Da, you're totally overreacting. Go and make friends, you told me yesterday. Then when I do, you yell at me for being a little late? That's so unfair!" He glared at his father, his emerald eyes glittering. For one instant, he felt as if he had been catapulted back in time, to a year ago, when Severus had picked on him for everything.

"As long as you live under my roof, Harry Potter-Snape, you'll obey my rules," Severus growled. "And that means leaving notes informing me where you're going at all times and getting home on time. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, but his tone was anything but respectful.

"Mind that tone, or else you'll be grounded for the rest of the week," warned his parent. "Now go in and heat up your supper."

"I'm not hungry," Harry mumbled, though he was in fact starving.

"Eat anyway."

Harry stomped into the kitchen, muttering under his breath, "Bloody hell, I fought maldecorvae and werewolves and dark wizards and he freaks when I take a walk down the street with a Muggle kid! What the hell's wrong with him?"

He heated up the fried chicken, corn, and sliced potatoes with a simple Warming Charm and then slumped in his chair.

Severus joined him a moment later, and shot him an irritated look. "Quit slouching. And wipe that sulky look off your face."

Harry stared down at his plate, fighting the urge to scream at Severus that he was being a total arsehole. He took a mouthful of chicken, it was very good, and then he concentrated on eating. He avoided his father's gaze through the whole meal.

Neither spoke to each other, and when the meal was over, Harry washed the dishes and then asked Severus to unlock the lab so he could go down and scrub the cauldrons. The Potions Master did so, accompanying his son into the lab and then watching for awhile before retreating to the small stillroom just off the lab and bottling some healing remedies.

Harry was furious, and he took out his frustration upon the hapless cauldrons, scrubbing them until they were gleaming and his knuckles were raw. He couldn't believe how unfair his father was being. It had only been seven minutes, not seven hours! Really, sometimes Severus could be such a damn perfectionist git!

He was so angry at how unfair his parent had been that he didn't even bother to tell Snape he was finished, he just stalked upstairs and took a shower and went to bed. It was the first time he had ever really quarreled with Severus since coming home to Spinner's End, and the first time he had gone to bed without bidding the elder wizard good night. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but he'd be damned if he'd return to the lab and say goodnight after the way Snape had acted.

He turned over and buried his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach.

Problems, fledgling? queried Hedwig.

"I'm fine. Everything is just fine, can't you tell?" Harry snapped.

Did you have another quarrel with your father? The bird asked knowingly.

"Yeah. He's being a git. Now please go away and let me sleep, Hedwig." Harry ordered irritably and shut his eyes.

* * * * * * *

Severus emerged from the stillroom some ten minutes later to find the lab empty and all his cauldrons gleaming and put away neatly upon the rack next to the sink. He found he now had a pounding headache and quickly procured some Headache Remedy from his stores and drank it down. As the pain faded, so did much of his temper. He looked at the cauldrons and grudgingly admitted Harry had a done a first-class job.

He wondered where his son had gotten off to, and after checking the locking spells on all the cabinets, he headed upstairs, figuring he would find Harry in the den. But when he reached the first floor, he found the den unoccupied.

He felt once again the faint stirrings of panic and he half-bolted upstairs. He found Harry sound asleep, the blankets half-wound about him. Severus took a moment to unwind his son and tuck him in properly. Heaving a sigh, he left and sought his own bed. Tired as he was, he kept waking several times to check on Harry, his anxiety making his insomnia worsen. He finally fell asleep around five o'clock in the morning, utterly worn out.

* * * * * *

Both Snapes slept later than their wont the next morning. When Harry woke and went downstairs to begin preparing breakfast, he was still feeling tired and out of sorts, still mad at Severus for jumping all over him. He expected to find his father cooking or reading the paper, but the kitchen was dark.

Huh. That's a first, me getting up before him.

He moved over to the fridge and took out a carton of milk and then some cereal from the cabinet beside it. He didn't feel like making anything more complicated. He ate the first bowl and was on his second, for some reason one bowl didn't fill him up any more, when Severus entered the kitchen. Harry eyed the other from beneath his fringe of hair, wondering if his father were in a more rational mood this morning.

Severus looked terrible, his eyes were bloodshot holes and his face was unshaven, and his hair hung limply down his back. If Harry didn't know better, he would have thought the wizard suffering a hangover. But he knew there was no alcohol in Spinner's End, and Snape did not seem the type to go to the pub and buy a pint. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Severus what was wrong, until he remembered he was still mad at the other man and he shoved more cereal in his mouth.

Severus was quiet, making tea in silence and then sitting down and drinking it and eating some buttered toast. He noted the uneasy glances his son was giving him, and wondered what was up with the boy. He was acting like . . .like Severus recalled himself doing when he saw his father the night after one of his binges, after the man had beaten him for some imagined slight. The behavior puzzled the Potions Master until he recalled their quarrel last night.

True, he hadn't hit Harry, but he had been more abrasive than his wont. He recalled Harry accusing him of being unfair and looking back on it, he had to admit that his son had been correct. He had been almost irrational, allowing his anxiety to get the better of him. He felt the unaccustomed weight of guilt settle about his shoulders like a cloak. He couldn't believe he had started a quarrel over something so minor . . .so inconsequential. What was happening to him? He was never like this.

Harry couldn't bear the silence any longer. "Da . . .you okay? Are you still mad at me?" Damn it, he hadn't meant to ask that! He sounded like a scared little kid, not a teenager filled with righteous anger at an unjust parent.

"No." Severus said, staring down into his mug, as if searching for answers like Trelawney in the bottom of a teacup.

The answer relieved Harry. Despite Severus's unfairness, he still didn't like it when the man was angry with him, for whatever reason. He supposed that harked back to when he was a small child and had wanted to desperately gain the approval of his aunt and uncle, even if it was only for an hour or two.

"You look . . .tired," Harry ventured, eating some more cereal.

"I am." The older wizard sighed. He had never been very good at apologizing. "That's why I've been snapping at you lately," he said, not realizing until then that was the cause of his irritability, and not only his anxiety. "I haven't been sleeping well lately—"

"Nightmares?" Harry guessed.

Snape's mouth twitched into a sardonic smile. "Something like that." If you could call being so terrified that your son was going to attempt another disasterous potion mishap a nightmare. "Still, that's no excuse for . . .growling at you. I . . .haven't been myself lately."

"Because of me." Harry suddenly lost his appetite. "I'm sorry. I'm driving you nuts, aren't I?"

"You aren't solely to blame for my behavior, son. Most of it is my own doing." Severus sighed, and summoned another cup of coffee. "The war scars all of us."

"But you've been through one before this. Shouldn't you be . . .well . . .used to it by now?"

"Harry, you never get "used" to it. Every war is different, and it affects you differently. That is the nature of the beast. Last time I was younger, more resilient. Now . . ." he trailed off. Now he was older, more experienced, and his spirit was weary of fighting the faceless army of fear, failure, and depression. And anxiety was taking its toll as well.

"Do you want to . . .uh . . .share my sessions with Sirius?"

Severus choked upon his coffee. He knew Harry meant well, but he would rather get his toenails yanked out than reveal to Sirius Black all the insecurities he felt as a parent and his fears for Harry. That was fine for Harry, but a part of him did not trust the Marauder not to use what he learned against his old school rival.

"Blessed Merlin, no! Don't worry about me, Harry. I shall manage, as I always have."

"You're not taking Dreamless Sleep, are you?"

"I know better." Severus replied. "There are alternatives to magic."

His son nodded in agreement. "Like meditation. Sirius showed me some of that. Does that help?"

"Sometimes. If it doesn't, I know who will."

Harry cocked his head. "Who?"

"Healer Sandrilas." Severus replied. "You were right. I was overreacting yesterday. I apologize for my quick temper. But next time do inform me if you leave the house, Harry. I don't like not knowing where you are."

"Okay, Da. I'll remember." Harry promised, happy that Severus had apologized.

"Good. Because if you don't, you'll be grounded." Then Severus finished his toast. "You have a session with Sirius and Remus this afternoon, correct?"

"Yes. Sirius is still talking to me about my nightmares."

"Good. That's what he should be doing. Mind you listen to him." Severus said, then he did a doubletake. I can't believe those words came out of my mouth. I must really be exhausted. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and grimaced. "I'm going to take a shower and shave. Then we can gather herbs for an hour or so, I still need some for my Calming Draught."

"All right. Then can I go flying or visit Paul?"

"Yes. But make sure you are back here before four."

"Right."

* * * * * *

While he was showering, Severus was pondering if he had done the right thing by allowing the Marauders to counsel Harry. He knew the two wizards would never deliberately hurt the boy and that Harry felt more comfortable and trusting with them, but still, they weren't professionals. How could he be sure he was doing the right thing? Was he jeopardizing Harry by allowing them to advise his son? Had he been too hasty?

The questions plagued him like a swarm of mosquitoes, nipping and biting, until he felt he would go mad. Even working in the herb garden alongside Harry and brewing potions did not help.

Harry left to go flying and play a few games of cricket and tennis with Paul. He returned promptly at quarter to four and went to get changed into clothes that were not covered in dirt and sweat. After that he remained in his room, slowly sipping a glass of ice-cold lemonade, and waiting for Sirius and Remus to arrive.

Meanwhile, Severus paced about the den, fretting. He had told Harry that if he felt he needed to get counseling he would make an appointment with Alec, but he was as wary and uncomfortable as his son was with revealing his vulnerability to a stranger. He had been to a Mind Healer once before, after the first Wizard War, when he had been falling apart, consumed by Lily's death and his part in it, but that Healer had since passed on and Severus had never sought out a new one. But he knew Sandrilas was highly recommended, and anyone who could deal with a former Azkaban inmate and give Black a measure of peace would be able to help Severus as well. It was the initial visit that made him uneasy.

Still, you don't want to make Harry feel uncomfortable about going through therapy. You need to set a good example. And you know better than to let those insominiac episodes to continue. It's bad for both of you. Harry has enough to deal with without worrying about you and your bloody temper, he reminded himself. Practice what you preach, Snape, and go and talk to Sandrilas.

When Sirius and Remus arrived, this time by Floo, he greeted them cordially, and told them that Harry was up in his room. He went with them to open the secret passage, but afterwards did not linger. He penned a brief request to Healer Sandrilas, asking if he would be available for an appointment on the same schedule he had set for Harry—Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays at 4 o'clock. Then he called Hedwig and asked her if she wouldn't mind delivering the message.

Not at all, Warrior. I shall return as swift as a peregrine. The snowy told him, and she soared away into the sky in a twinkling.

* * * * * *

She returned within fifteen minutes, a reply from the good doctor in her beak. Sandrilas' note said that he would be happy to set up sessions with Severus at the times specified. He also reiterated that if he wished, Severus could Floo directly into his private office, so no one would need to know he was seeing a Mind Healer. He understood the need for complete privacy and said Severus needn't worry about anything ever leaking to the press. Alec had set up his first appointment for the coming Thursday.

Severus exhaled softly. He wasn't exactly thrilled about it, but anything that would help him deal with Harry more patiently and positively was a good thing. He had thought he was prepared for raising a teenage wizard, only to discover that nothing was easy when dealing with someone as damaged and hurting as Harry. Then again, he didn't know why he would think anything in his life would be easy. Nothing had ever been before.

* * * * * *

Thursday

Healer Sandrilas' office:

"Welcome, Severus." Alec Sandrilas greeted his newest patient as he stepped gracefully from the fireplace. "Do come in and sit down, please." He spoke in a soft tone, polite yet personable, professional in demeanor yet welcoming. He radiated a calming aura that reminded Severus of the little empathy Jilly Witherspoon.

"Thank you, Healer." Severus paused to flick off a few specks of ash before stepping upon the pristine wood floor. It had been recently polished, he could detect the faint scent of lemon wax. He glanced about the office, noting that the room was more like a private meditation and tea room that could have been right at home in an Oriental palace than a office.

There was a small desk in a corner, and behind that a small teak bookshelf with leatherbound books behind it, as well as an ancient medieval apothecary cabinet, but otherwise the room was decorated with definite Eastern themes. There was a tatami bamboo mat beneath a low meditation table, complete with a softly dripping bamboo fountain atop it and a Japanese stoneware teapot and cups glazed a soothing blue color. Screens with prints of cherry blossoms and cranes and a waterfall were set up about the mat.

There were also thick pillows with woven backs, almost like chairs, set to either side of the table, colored a neutral beige. Wall niches held green candles which emitted a soothing lavender and lemongrass scent as they burned. A set of wind chimes hung in a corner, and in another was a small cherry tree in a lovely pot. The room was lit by softly glowing Chinese lanterns. Despite its lack of windows, the office was not stuffy, but pleasantly cool from a palm frond fan spinning high in the ceiling.

The Healer himself was dressed quite casually, wearing a simple pair of black cotton trousers and soft shoes and a light blue shirt with a flowing robe colored a warm golden color. "Please, make yourself comfortable, Severus. As you can see, I favor many Eastern customs. I did most of my advanced studies in Japan and China, and tend to use many of their techniques in my own practice. I find they are gentler and more harmonious than many of European practices." He seated himself upon the cushioned chair on the right, leaving the other for Severus.

Severus sat down, breathing deeply of the sweetly scented air and trying to relax.

"Have you ever seen a Chinese tea ceremony?" Alec inquired pleasantly. "No? I find it helps one relax, especially after a trying day at work." The Healer kneeled upon his cushion, and began to perform the complex ceremony with the ease of long practice. "I was taught this by Master Healer An Shen, it took me a year to master the art. But I find this centers and focuses me more than even a Clarifying Draft." He continued to mix the green tea powder and stir the tea.

Severus watched, fascinated. He had expected to be interrogated much like the other Mind Healer he had seen last time. But Sandrilas seemed content to take his time, and his movements were oddly serene and calming. The Potions Master felt some of the tension drain from him. "Forgive me for asking such a personal question, but are you an empath, Healer Sandrilas?"

Alec looked up, a small smile gracing his features. "Alec, please. There is no need to be so formal here. I want you to be as comfortable as possible during your time with me. As for me being an empath, yes, I do have the Talent in a small degree. Not as strong as some, I cannot for instance, use it to control others' emotions for more than a few minutes, nor would I ever use it without permission upon a patient. The Mind Healer Codes forbid it. I would also like to reassure you that your visits here are completely confidential. Anything you tell me will remain locked away in my brain until death, I never write down anything my patients speak to me about. The only thing that goes into your personal chart is whether or not I have prescribed a potion to you and any improvement or decline in your condition. Your records here are sealed magically, and can only be opened by myself or another Healer if you give them permission."

"I see. That is good to know," Severus said. "Are you also a reader?"

Sandrilas raised an eyebrow. "You know about readers?"

"On our journey to destroy the Horcruxes, we encountered a small community of readers in Yorkshire, and one family, the Witherspoons, saved my life. And Harry's too, by sheltering us from the werewolves who were hunting us."

"I know the Witherspoons. They are good people. Their youngest, Jillian, will probably grow up to be one of the strongest Healers I've ever known. Even at her tender age, her power eclipses mine."

Severus nodded. "She is a remarkable child. It will be a privilege to have her attend Hogwarts during my tenure as Headmaster, assuming I still hold the position by then."

"Ah, yes, I had read of your appointment in the paper. Congratulations."

"Thank you. It is a great responsibility, but I look forward to the challenge," Severus stated, only now realizing that it was true.

"I am sure you shall manage just fine. To answer your earlier question, yes I do have a reader's Gift, but again I never use it without permission." Sandrilas leaned back on his heels, passing a cup of green tea to Severus, before taking his and sipping it.

"Would it not be . . .easier to diagnose a patient using your Gift?"

"Yes and no. Yes because I could get information quicker that way, but no because one of the central purposes of these sessions is for my patient to reveal things that are troubling them at their own pace, using my Gift would take away their autonomy, and that is not what I want to do. I usually use my Gift to coax a buried memory to the surface, one that has been repressed, but needs to be discussed in order for my patient to heal."

"So you follow the Reader Codes as well."

"Always. I was taught them before I attended school." Sandrilas explained.

They finished their tea, Severus found it soothed the nervous butterflies in his stomach nicely. After they had placed the cups back upon the table, Alec crossed his legs in the classic meditative pose and said, "I think it's best if we do a bit of meditation before I ask you the reason you decided to see me."

Severus agreed, and they began the counted breathing and focusing exercises, which Severus had learned long before. After fifteen minutes, the Potions Master found that he was completely relaxed and he opened his eyes.

Alec also opened his. "Good, at least you're not thinking I'm going to eat you," he said with a slight smirk. "Because I only devour Mind Lords or those who don't pay their bills. Now, what made you come to me?"

"I came mostly for my son, Harry, and not myself. He has been suffereing from severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I would have brought him to you as well, but he felt more comfortable talking to his godfather and his former defense teacher. But his episodes got so bad that he nearly overdosed himself with Angel Dream before that. Luckily I discovered what he had done . . ." Severus related what had gone on and how frightened he had been afterwards. "He didn't know what he was doing was dangerous, but even so I am still angry with him. He just doesn't think!"

"A common failing among most young people."

"But he should know better, I've been tutoring him in advanced potions for half a year at least. I forgave him, but a part of me is still angry . . ."

"And frightened and guilty," Alec stated. "You blame yourself for not recognizing the signs of addiction, since you caught the signs when he took Dreamless Sleep."

"I . . .yes . . .and I've stopped sleeping because I don't trust him not to try again . . .I can't . . .I keep waking up and checking on him . . .in spite of all the precautions I've taken . . ."

"You've lost your confidence in yourself. Tell me, Severus, do you consider yourself a good parent?"

"No. Not right now."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? I failed him when he needed me most. He could have died!"

"Yes. But the fault would have been with him, not you. It was his choice to experiment with an unknown potion, was it not?"

"Yes, but . . .I should have recognized the signs."

"You did."

"Not soon enough."

"Is your son dead? In a coma?"

"No. But he came damn close!"

"Close doesn't count. You caught it in time. And you also knew what to do to flush the excess from his system. Those seconds counted, Severus. Most parents would have had to call St. Mungos for treatment and by then it might have been too late. You have nothing to feel guilty over, Potions Master."

"Don't I? Had I been paying closer attention, I would have noticed the signs before it ever got that far." Severus argued.

"Because you were once a spy?"

"Yes. That was my job for years and I was damn good at it. Except in this case."

"Hmm. How long were you a spy, Severus?"

"Since I was seventeen. I'm thirty-five now. so . . .eighteen years."

Sandrilas whistled. "Merlin! Most of those in your profession don't last half as long. If the stress doesn't kill them, or they aren't discovered, the depression destroys them. And you were so young!"

"I was of age."

"True, but what a terrible burden to place upon yourself. Why did you do it, if I may ask?"

"I . . .to atone for a grave mistake. And I made a vow to a dear friend of mine, who was later killed by . . .by Voldemort. At the time, I didn't care much about my mental state. It was war, and I did what I had to."

"I would say you went above and beyond, Severus. Though I can see you don't agree with me. Was your mistake so terrible that it required years of deprevation and sacrifice?"

"Yes. Once I was fool, and I became a Death Eater for six months. One of his followers."

"I see. That's poor judgment, but you came back to the light, obviously. A difficult decision, no doubt."

"Not as difficult as staying would have been. I would have destroyed someone I cared about very deeply. I couldn't do it. So I left. I have never regretted it."

"Yet you continue to punish yourself over that mistake." Sandrilas said knowingly.

Severus shrugged. "I was the best person to become a spy. I had no family, nothing to lose."

"You were expendable."

"Yes."

"That's awfully harsh. I do not believe you need to die in order to rectify a mistake you made as a young man. Clearly you do not value yourself the way you do your charge, Severus. What does that tell me? It tells me that as a child you were taught you were worthless, that your life mattered almost nothing to your father or mother, that you were a victim of harsh discipline. Am I right?"

Severus nodded. "How . . .do you know that? Are you using your Talent?"

"No. I don't need it to know that. I have seen many like you before. Often those willing to risk their life for a cause and think nothing about it have been abused as children, over and over. Taught that the only value they possess is to die for what they believe in. They are very dedicated and loyal, and fiercely protective of those whom they feel are deserving. The way you are with Harry."

"Humph!" Severus snorted. "Fat lot of good that did him."

"It takes a long time for you to forgive yourself. Because you hold yourself to a perfectionist standard."

"So what? I learned long ago that I could never please my father and so the only one I had to please was myself."

"And so you asked of yourself the impossible. Because no one is ever perfect."

"I know that."

"Do you? Then why do you torment yourself with mistakes both past and present?"

Severus was silent for several long moments. At last he replied, "I don't know."

"I do. Because you feel that you deserve it. Tell me a bit about your childhood."

"Why is that necessary? This is about my anxiety over my son."

"Humor me. I have my reasons. Where did you grow up? I know you are a half-blood. What were your parents like?"

Severus sighed, wishing they would stay on topic. But he began to speak, reluctantly, about his awful childhood, and how he had been hated by his own father, and how his mother had died when he was sixteen, leaving him alone to face the demon.

"And so the spy who trusts no one was born," Sandrilas murmured.

"Not so. I trusted Hagrid."

"And Lily. Both of whom were unable to help you in the end. They taught you about forgiveness, by showing you their own, but they never taught you to find it for yourself. That's what I shall try and do. For only by forgiving yourself can you heal the hole within you."

"I don't understand. Isn't knowing the same as finding?"

"No. You know but you don't understand. At least not yet. I had the same problem once upon a time."

"You? A Mind Healer?"

"Yes, me. I am as human as you. Like you, I once made a grave mistake and it took me years to forgive myself. Shall I tell you what it was?"

"If you like." Severus wasn't sure if he really wanted to hear it, but since Alec seemed willing to discuss it . . .

"I want you to know that it took me a long time to admit this, even to my own Master Healer. And still I don't usually discuss with anyone unless I feel they need to hear it." Alec cleared his throat.

"I shall tell no one. You have my word."

"Thank you. After I finished school, I attended the British Academy of Mind Healers, and received a degree there. While I was there, I met my wife, Angeline. I was twenty-one and very much in love. We married and I started a practice with her. After a few years we had a daughter, Melanie. I called her Lanie for short. She was the apple of our eye, a sunny happy child. She inherited my empathic Gift in full, as sometimes happens. But the gift didn't appear until she was at Hogwarts, and for some reason she didn't inform me of it until the summer. Now, in case you don't know, an empath with a strong Talent is very vulnerable during the first few months, because they don't have the knowledge to build shields to keep out the emotions of others. That's why it's so crucial for them to have an experienced mentor to show them how to build shields.

"Lanie didn't have that, and the constant pressure of trying to keep out her classmates' and teachers' emotions was driving her mad. So she resorted to a potion very similar to Angel Dream, that dulled her Talent. To this day I still don't know why she didn't ask me for help. Because of her absorption of others' emotions, she became unpredictable, often lashing out in anger for no reason or bursting into tears. She developed terrible headaches, for which Madame Pomfrey treated with a Triple Strength Headache Remedy, never knowing that she was already dosing herself with the other potion, which reacted badly when taken together. The combination made her depressed. Gradually, her friends began to avoid her, calling her Crazy Melly. By the time she came home, she was a wreck, but she managed to hide it from me.

"She did tell me about her empathic Gift, enough so I began teaching her standard blocking techniques. But by then she was already addicted to that potion and depressed. I didn't notice at first, for she had learned how to hide her feelings from me, and I was not in the habit of scanning her aura, otherwise I would have seen the signs and taken steps to help her.

"But I was blind and the first I knew of anything was when I found her floating in our swimming pool, she had tried to drown herself. I was horrified. My own daughter had been self-destructing and I, the great Mind Healer, had not been aware of anything. Angeline was away at a conference in France, she knew nothing until I contacted her, and then she came home immediately. She accused me of negligence, of being so wrapped up in my career that I failed my daughter. At the time, I believed her."

"What happened to Melanie? Did she recover?"

"Yes, eventually. We healed her body and Angie eventually managed to lock down her Gift as well. But she can never use her Talent to its fullest extent, and she will always be sensitive to certain magics, and is easily frightened and doesn't like to be in crowds. She never could return to Hogwarts, and Angie ended up homeschooling her. My wife ended up hating me for my mistake, and in the end she divorced me and took Lanie to live with her. I didn't have the heart to fight her, for I hated myself then. I was a broken thing, my soul shattered into pieces. I couldn't forgive myself and I ended up closing down my practice and fleeing to China, where I met Master An Shen. That was where I rediscovered my soul and mended it. That was when I discovered the fatal flaw within me was not negligence, but an impossible standard.

"You see, we Healers tend to see ourselves as very clever, and arrogant, and like God in a way. I was a successful Mind Healer, I had saved many patients and had won many awards. I came to think there was nothing I could not do. Lanie's near death shattered that illusion forever. I learned the hard way that I was not the perfect Mind Healer, not the perfect anything. I was not God, that sometimes I failed, despite everything.

"I considered myself a wretched parent, undeserving of my child, it took many months before I could accept what Shen told me—that sometimes we are blind to those closest to us, and even the wisest fail, and even the best have limits. That I was not totally to blame for what happened, and my wife was wrong to take my child from me. For I needed Lanie's forgiveness in order to find my own. When I returned to Britain, I located Angie with magic, and told her I needed to see Lanie. We quarreled, but finally I convinced her to allow me to see my daughter again. When I had left, Lanie had followed her mother's lead and blamed me for her fall. But after three years, something had changed within her, and she forgave me, which was something her mother never quite managed. To this day, Angeie won't speak to me. But Lanie comes to stay with me occasionally on the weekends and holidays, and she showed me the way to find forgiveness."

"How?"

"The first step is to put away blame. To accept what is, what was, and to focus upon fixing the problem at hand. Assigning blame serves no purpose, except to prolong the hurt and bitterness. So now I tell you, quit blaming yourself, Severus Snape, for what almost happened, and realize that perfect is an ideal, not a tangible thing. Focus instead on what you can do, and are doing, which is getting counseling for Harry and for yourself. A mistake was made, acknowledge it and go on."

"That's easier said than done."

"No one knows that better than I do." Alec said sincerely. "Once you've done that, then you can move on to the next step. How do you feel now?"

"Honestly? I'm shocked as blazes by what you told me."

"Good. As far as your anxiety over Harry goes, I would recommend a simple Monitoring Charm placed over him at night, which will alert you if he wakes, and show what he's doing. Also drink a Draught of Peace before you go to sleep, it ought to relax you enough for you to slip into a normal slumber. You are exhausted, and that's not doing you any good, or your son either."

"No." Severus said. Strangely, Alec's admission made him trust the man more than he would have initially. At least he wasn't talking to someone who had no idea how it felt to fail a child.

"Then might I suggest we finish up with some more meditation, this time with my worry stones?" the Healer said, summoning some oval smooth stones from his desk, painted green and blue. "Hold this in your hands and roll it between your fingers. As you do so, visualize all your anxiety going into the stone, leaving you at peace. The stone will grow warm as you pour your worry into it, but don't stop. When the stone feels uncomfortable to touch, set it down and take three deep cleansing breaths. Find your center and go there. I shall call you back in twenty minutes, and you should awaken feeling refreshed."

"Is this something you learned in China?"

Sandrilas nodded. "Try it. It works for me."

Severus began rolling the stone between his fingers and concentrating upon it. His vison blurred as he was drawn into the stone's blue depths and it grew warm in his hands. His head dropped to his chest and his breathing slowed. The lines upon his forehead faded as he poured the worry he felt over his son and his anxiety over failing him again into the stone.

Healer Sandrilas smiled. They had made a good beginning. He had established the most important part of a Mind Healer and patient relationship. Trust. He knew it would take quite some time for him to heal the troubled wizard of his insecurity and smooth over the scars of his wretched childhood, but he would do his best. To do any less would dishonor the memory of his old teacher, who had put him back together again when he had been certain he would never be whole again. He was happy he could use the knowledge he had gained to help Severus now. What we do in life echoes in eternity.

Twenty minutes later, Alec clapped his hands and called, "Severus, wake up."

Severus stirred and woke, and for the first time since the potion mishap felt clearheaded and calm and refreshed. He stretched and stood up. "Incredible. I feel better than I have in days."

"And you'll feel even better after a good night's sleep. I'll see you on Saturday." Sandrilas said, and handed him the worry stone. "Keep it. It's attuned to you now. Use it whenever you feel your anxiety getting the better of you. It's non-addictive."

Severus actually chuckled. Then he thanked the Mind Healer and returned to Spinner's End. Perhaps when he returned on Saturday he could ask for another stone and show Harry how to use it also.