With Eyes Wide Open

“There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open.” – Jawaharlal Nehru

Chapter Two
Breaking Ground


June 14, 1991

The room was dark as the single candle flickered by a window. The gossamer curtains were pulled back and the window cracked to tempt the summer breeze into the room. The sheets on the four-poster were crumpled and empty. Books sat on every surface of the room, along the walls in shelves, on the nightstand, the desk, and the floor in stately piles. Piles of parchment and quills littered all other available surface. The room was silent and still, except for the lone figure in the corner seated at the desk, head in her hands.

Beautiful crimson hair flowed over her shoulders and pooled on the surface of the table. Tears raced from emerald eyes, chasing each other and sparkling in rivers upon her cheeks. She nibbled her bottom lip in agitation and looked up into a partly charred picture sitting in an elegant frame on her desktop.

It was the largest picture and was surrounded by many smaller pictures, all of the same child at different points in his life. But this picture that so captured her attention was the only picture she was allowed to have of the man who had stolen her heart. Some women would have rather had pictures of their wedding to remind them of the glory still in their lives. Most women would enjoy being in the picture with the love of their lives in order to prove to the world that they did love that man.

However, this picture was different for the woman was not in the picture and needless to say, was not a photo of their wedding.

It pictured a man, and not a man that most women would want to have a picture of. He was not handsome by any means nor did he seem happy. In fact, this severe man came across stoic and perhaps irritated. He sat on a sofa and seemed to almost be swallowed in his voluptuous black robes. His black, greasy, stringy hair fell in his face as he looked down at the child in his arms. Black fuzz was barely visible on the infant’s head and a large toothless grin spread across his chubby face. One hand waved at nothing and the other gripped the hair of the severe man. At first glance, it appeared to be a picture of a man who had been forced into holding a bubbly baby but if one looked close enough they could see the small smile on the man’s face.

And the woman who loved this man could not stop her tears at seeing the past she missed so much.

With a trembling resolve the woman pulled a piece of parchment to her and unscrewed the lid off her ink. Her hand shook as she held her freshly dipped quill over the paper. Then she began to write, her hand slowly becoming steady. Unbidden tears fell onto her parchment but she made no move to stop them, useless as it was.


My dark knight,

If you knew how many times I write to you, how many letters I have hidden away in our wedding chest… You would think I’m a sentimental fool. I suppose I am. Being dead isn’t easy, love.

Harry is growing up so much. He looks remarkably like you once we can take down the glamour charms. He has your dry sense of humor as well as your brilliant mind. Except, other times it’s sad that I have to constantly remind myself that he is your son, not Remus’. The charms that keep us in hiding have caused me to begin finding the truth to be unbearably difficult.

I miss you, Severus. I miss you with every fiber of my being. Most nights I cannot sleep because I do not have your arms to hold me. Some nights my mind is too full of memories that rest will never come. The other nights I am watching over our son as he struggles with the curse that the Dark Lord gave him.

Albus told me that he’s dying. I didn’t tell Harry. No doubt, our boy already knows. I cannot help but be angry in all this, even though my heart is breaking. Albus seems more worried about this abominable war than with Harry’s happiness and health. I want you here. We need you here, but Albus is too happy with the opportunity to run all our lives.

I suppose I shouldn’t speak ill of the man. He is the reason why you are alive. He’s the reason why our son walks this world today. But I have the feeling that Albus knew all along that our world would become this crumbling foundation. I cannot help but be bitter that our son is sick and that my husband is estranged from us… for the good of the Wizarding world.

I hate it. I can’t stop hating it. My tears won’t stop. My pain won’t end. My fear won’t go away.

I love you, Severus. I miss you. I need you. I want you. Please trust that we are alive. Do not believe the powers that be. Do not believe the falsities. Believe that we will meet again.

Your princess of golden cities,
Lily

She placed her pen down slowly and carefully folded the letter. She took an envelope addressed it and gently placed her paper with in. With a kiss to the name on the envelope and with a heartbroken sigh, Lily crossed the room and placed the letter in the chest at the end of her bed.

One last tear rolled down her cheek as she crawled back into bed, knowing that sleep would be impossible.

~*~

The first time Harry dropped his stirring rod he just picked it up and went on with mixing his potion. The second time was much like the first. By the third he was irritated. When the fourth came, he lowered the heat on his cauldron and just stepped back, staring at the offensive piece of wood on the tiled floor. His eyes narrowed and the tool began to rattle, jumping as if in an earthquake. Then suddenly it exploded, splinters shooting outward and bouncing harmlessly off his shins.

He smirked, and shook his long dark hair from his glimmering emerald eyes.

“Was that supposed to make you feel better, Cub?”

Harold Snape rolled his eyes at his godfather and waved his hand at the pieces, turning away as they put themselves together as if a puzzle. “Yes, releases frustration.” He said and turned to watch the werewolf’s struggling gait. “Supposedly, exerting my magic is good for me. That book that Mum is reading says so.”

“Yes, but I do not believe your mother would condone you exploding random objects.” Remus answered, hobbling forward, cane in hand. His normally pale face seemed almost translucent, forehead shining with perspiration. It took him almost forever to reach Harry’s side and collapse in a chair nearby his workstation.

The boy’s brows came together in concern. “Are you alright, Moony?”

“I’m fine, Harry.” Remus replied automatically. “Lily said you were having an off-day, today. I thought I would come and keep you company.” Remus Lupin leaned forward and peered searchingly at Harry’s ghostly pallor. His godson gave him a half-hearted glare out of the corner of his eyes. “How are you feeling, Cub?”

Harry slowly stirred his caldron, green eyes peering in and measuring something that Remus would never be able to tell. A small scowl, reminiscent of his father’s, Remus thought, crossed his face. “I took two doses of my medication. I should be fine. Mum needs not to worry.”

Remus sighed. “Your mother is not the only one that worries for your health, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry whispered. “I know you all love me but if I die, I do and none of us can change anything about it. I’d rather not spend my whole life fearing my death.”

“Wise words for someone so young,” Remus muttered. He was silent for a moment and just stared at his surrogate son, watching the emotions swirl behind the boy’s eyes. He sniffed and something metallic reached him. He sighed once more and gently tugged Harry over to face him.

“You’re not afraid, Cub, but that doesn’t stop you from being bitter about it.”

Harry stared at his now forgotten caldron. Tears prickled his eyes but he fought them down. Crying would not solve anything. It never did in the past.

“Moony, if I die, I don’t want Mum to be alone.”

“She won’t be, Harry. She has me as well as your uncles.”

“No, not like that, Remus. I know that you all will never leave her. I just don’t want her to be without Dad. She deserves to be together with him. Mum is so lonely. I don’t like seeing her that way.”

Remus sighed, “None of us do.”

Harry turned around and peered up at the werewolf, standing with such resolve as a man thrice his age. “Moony, will you make me a promise?”

Remus brow furrowed as he stared down into the boy’s determined eyes. “I’ll try, Harry.”

“If something happens to me, something bad, will you tell Dad about us, despite Dumbledore or anything else?”

“Yes, Cub, I promise.” As Remus spoke, he couldn’t help but feel bitter himself even as the boy’s stick-thin arms wrapped around his neck.

“Thanks, Moony.”

“You’re welcome, Cub.” Remus hoisted himself up and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Do you feel up to going to Diagon Alley?”

“Yea, as long as Sissy can come too.”

Upon hearing her name, a small black snake stuck her head out from underneath the boy’s sleeve. Harry smiled at his pet and murmured to her, patting her head with a fingertip.

“Of course,” Remus responded with a fond and slightly uneasy smile, “but keep her hidden. No talking. We are establishing ourselves today.”

Harry smiled at Remus’ retreating back and turned to his simmering potion. “Finally.”

***

“Do you only come here to eat my food and give my son illegal reading material?” Lily asked, lightly flipping through the book that Lucan had just placed in her hands.

Lucan sat on the arm of her sofa, three biscuits in one hand and munching on a forth. He peered up at her with cool blue eyes. Crumbs fell to the floor and disappeared. Mimzy – their house-elf – peered around the sofa with irritated eyes, watching Lucan stonily. Lily looked down at the small green creature whose large ears twitched much like a cat’s tail would when watching its prey. Lily bit back a smile and returned to the book, scowling at a particular nasty potion it described.

“I do come to dote upon my sister when the need strikes me,” Lucan said, finishing his last biscuit and brushing off the crumbles. Mimzy’s fingers twitched and the floor was clean again. The little elf’s lips were pursed so tightly that Lily feared that the creature’s magic would seal her mouth up.

“Mimzy, can you go check on Harry for me – quietly?”

Mimzy’s large violet eyes turned sad at the thought of her ailing little master. She nodded, and with a small pop, she disappeared.

With a sigh, Lily shut the book, shaking her head. “Lucan, you can’t really mean to give this to Harry?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Don’t you think the subject matter is… unsuitable?”

“Harry’s smart enough to know what to experiment with and what not to. You taught him well, Princess.”

“Not nearly as well as Severus could have, I’m sure,” she whispered.

Lucan scowled but wrapped his sister up in a hug from behind. She leaned back into him, fighting tears in her eyes.

He dropped his chin atop her head and whispered, “You’re dreams will come true, Princess. I’ll make sure of it.”

Lily pulled away from him and turned to stare him in the eyes. He merely smirked and looked away.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite nephew!”

“I’m your only nephew,” Harry said walking up to his mother and uncle and then clamoring up onto the bar stool. He gave the book a suspicious glance before looking back at Lucan.

“That may be,” Lucan grinned, and ruffled Harry’s shaggy black hair. “But only favorite nephews get presents!” He looked at the book. “And do my eyes deceive me?” He picked up the book. “Who else would a book such as this belong too?” He placed it in Harry’s hands and sat once more on the arm of the sofa, specifically ignoring Mimzy’s glare as she popped back into the room.

Harry gave the book a long look-over before looking up at his mother. Reluctantly, she nodded her head and he pounced on the book with vigor, flipping through it quickly once then doing it again more slowly. Lily couldn’t help but smile at how her baby’s sad eyes lit up in joy.

Suddenly, Harry grew still. “Dad’s potion is in here!”

Lily grew still as well but Lucan merely shrugged. “Which one, Harry? The man has made many.”

“It says that it can help with the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse, and even lessen the pain if given to the victim before the curse is cast… But he made this during the war.”

“Why would Albus allow him to blow his cover like that?” Remus asked hypothetically hobbling up to them and easing down on the stool beside Harry. “If the Dark Lord ever rose again, the Light would have no spy.”

“Poppycock, Lupin, the Light would have many spies. Severus has served his sentence.” Lucan stood and brushed off his frock coat absently. “In any case, nothing can be done about it.” He looked down at Harry. “Be proud of your father, Harry.”

Harry looked back down at the book, hand caressing the page gently as if someway he could touch his father by a book. “I am.”

***

Not for once in the two years that the Weasley twins were enrolled in Hogwarts had Severus Snape felt the urge to curse them with an inch of their lives. But as he stood in the shambles of his personal belongings, he found that their latest prank teetered on the edge of expulsion.

The Headmaster did not think so, of course. He had sent the brats back to their tower with a sweet and a pat on the head. Severus scowled, the little monsters of Gryffindor could do no wrong in Dumbledore’s eyes.

It had been that way in his youth. Why did he expect change from the old man now?

He walked forward gingerly, broken glass and feathers at his feet. Then something by the cold fireplace caught his eyes. It glinted and moved – a photograph. Slowly he came too it, bending down to pick it up. It was the only picture that remained of his family.

A corner of the photo had been singed by the twins’ fireworks. Lily sat in a chair rocking Harry, her dark red hair falling a bit into her face. Harry was waving his arms and clamping onto his mother’s hair, smiling toothlessly. Severus allowed a small smile to cross his normally stern face. Harry had loved pulling hair and when he had been introduced to Black’s animagus form it was as if Christmas had come early.

That had been the last hour he had ever spent with his son.

Dada! No go! No go!

Severus shut his eyes against the memories. His last memory of his son had been when Harry was pleading for him not to leave. Harry was shaking in his mother’s arms, struggling and reaching out for Severus. The mask in his hand had never seemed as heavy as it seemed then. Tears coursed from Harry’s beautiful eyes, eyes he shared with his mother, that night he shared her tears as well.

Then a week later, the Dark Lord was defeated and Severus’ family dead.

Lily had been cursed by Voldemort. No doubt it was this curse that drove her to such extravagant lengths…

Severus could not help but wish he had died with them.

“My boy, I am sorry for this,” Albus’ voice came from behind him and Severus felt his grip tighten on the photo. He stayed with his back to the man for if he faced him, he knew not what he would do to the Headmaster. An angry, bitter tear dripped onto the parchment and Severus wiped it away gingerly. He straightened and, without looking at Dumbledore, swept off to his personal laboratory.

Albus winced as the sound of breaking glass reached him and a screams of pain and frustration. The old professor sighed and turned to leave, casting a silencing charm over the quarters as he did so.