Forgiveness by sshpfanfiction

Severus woke hours later to the soft sound of someone knocking on his door. He encoded his living room, fireplace and for a moment wondered why he was asleep there instead of in his bedroom. Then Harry shuffled in his sleep, his forehead still resting against Severus’ thigh, and the entire, awful night rushed back into his mind like a waterfall. The knock came again. Severus carefully separated himself from Harry, who was still in a drugged sleep and answered the door.

Dumbledore, grave as Severus had ever seen him, stood at the other side of the door.

“Good morning, Severus. Sorry to disturb you,” Dumbledore said. “I trust Harry is here with you.”

Severus nodded, his eyes daring Dumbledore to comment. The old man didn’t. He just sighed.

“There are some things I must discuss with him.” Severus crossed his arms.

“He’s been through quite enough in the last 12 hours, Headmaster. Surely whatever you have to say can wait a few days.” The sudden bout of protectiveness surprised Severus, but it didn’t surprise Dumbledore. He just smiled.

“I assure you Severus, I do not wish to cause Harry any unnecessary pain,” Dumbledore said.
Severus wordlessly pulled the door further open and lead Severus into the living room where Harry was still curled under the covers.

“Good. You got him to sleep,” Dumbledore said in approval. Severus nodded.

“And how was he?” Dumbledore asked, taking the seat beside Harry’s bed.

“Distressed,” Severus said after a moment. Dumbledore sighed and brushed his fingers through Harry’s short fringe.

“Yes. Who wouldn’t be,” Dumbledore said. “I must admit to feeling some distress myself. To lose another he loved so much at so young age. Poor boy.” In another, the words may have sound condescending, insincere, but the gravity on Dumbledore’s face was unmistakable. He let out another sigh, looking older.

“Severus, there are some things I need to discuss with Harry. I believe that that discussion should be private, at least for now. Would you mind terribly if I used your quarters?”

“Your kicking me out of my own apartment?” Severus said with a quirk of his eyebrows, even as he smirked.

“Only if you don’t mind,” Dumbledore said with a serene smile. Severus rolled his eyes and grabbed his cloak.

“I’ll be back after lunch.”

Honestly, Severus was happy to get out of the room and walk, alone with his thoughts. He had faced some horrid days over the years, but the last 24 hours had to rank among the worst. Severus would rather die than admit it, but his friendship with Sirius, if one could call whatever had been growing between them friendship, was, outside of Dumbledore the closest thing Severus had to a healthy, normal relationship. Whatever boy the younger Sirius had been, the man had grown to be kind, patient and amusing. Severus knew that he was not an easy man to befriend and knew it was unlikely he’d find another person he would enjoy sharing a cup of tea with.

Severus sighed. In truth, while he did mourn the loss of Sirius for his own sake, he mourned more for Harry’s. No Mother. No Father. No Sirius. In Severus’ opinion it was much-to-much for a 15-year old to handle. It certainly was too much for him to handle alone. Severus had seen enough in the child’s mind to know that his Aunt and Uncle were not suitable parental figures and would give the boy anger, humiliation and neglect instead of the love, solace and understanding that he would certainly need in the coming months. Harry had no one.

Severus sat on a bench by the lake and watched it, not moving for hours.

Harry too lay unmoving. He had woken hours earlier, having forgotten momentarily what happened the night before. It all came rushing back to him when he glimpsed Dumbledore’s face looking at him: solemn and serious.

“Hello Harry,” Dumbledore said softly. “How are you?”

It was the mildest part of the conversation. The only good thing Harry could say about the conversation was that the horror of realizing Voldemort had marked him to die and the depressing confirmation that he had to return to the Dursley’s over the the summer made him forget about Sirius’ death for a few moments.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Dumbledore said at the end of the conversation. Dumbledore was a wise man, but this was a very stupid question. Harry nodded anyways.

“Alright,” Dumbledore said, patting Harry on the arm. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts. I hope to see you at the feast.”

Harry nodded, but he had no intention of going to the feast. Snape had gotten rid of Harry’s clothing - stained, Harry remembered with the urge to vomit, with Sirius’ blood. Harry was grateful for that but he did have to slink back to Gryffindor common room in the black pyjamas Snape had conjured for him.

Harry hesitated before entering the common room. The thought of having to answer a thousand questions from Ron, Hermione, Neville and whomever else might be around was repellant. Still, he had nowhere to go, so he entered the common room.

There was only a few hours to the feast. The common room was strewn with old books, clothing swaps and trunks the more organized students had already packed. Luckily most of the students were outside enjoying the nice weather.The only person Harry knew was Neville, who stood up immediately. Harry’s stomach dropped.

“Hiya, Harry,” Neville said, his voice so full of open concern. Sirius’ voice had been full of concern for Harry too as he bled out. Sirius is dead, Harry’s mind told him unnecessarily. That’s why Neville was talking like this.

“Hi Neville,” Harry said. “Where are Ron and Hermione.”

“Outside,” Neville said. “We were taking turns waiting up for you.” Because Sirius is dead.

“How -“

“I’m fine, Neville,” Harry said harshly. Neville didn’t recoil. He just nodded, looking a little sad. That made Harry feel even worse. He pushed his way past Neville up to the dorms which, thankfully, were empty.

Harry threw himself on the bed, his face in the pillow. Neville had enough good sense not to follow. He didn’t want to think about Sirius, about the prophecy Dumbledore about, about the fact that Dumbledore - who he always had believed to be infallible - cried, feared and made mistakes. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to zoom out from the thoughts and images roiling around his minds so that he no longer had to focus on them.

Finally, Harry dozed fitfully all through the feast on to the next morning. His roommates took their lead from him and said nothing, choosing instead to pad around the dorm room quietly or leave the dorm entirely empty. It was with numb relief that he packed his trunk the next morning.

Under a stack of jeans was a pack of letters, all Sirius’. Sirius was the only one who wrote Harry. He felt like crying again.

“Harry,” Ron said tentatively from the doorframe. “Want to grab some breakfast, mate?”

“Not hungry.”

“We’re going to have to go to the train soon,” Ron persisted. “Might as well take a little bit of toast.”

Harry shrugged and followed Ron out of the common room. What did it matter anyway?

The cafeteria was emptier than the usual as the students were packing and eating erratically in their attempt to make the final train home. At the head table, Harry could see Snape conversing in deep, serious tones with Dumbledore. When Harry entered, Snape turned and looked right at him. His expression was inscrutable - but only because Snape was not an open man in general - Harry was starting to recognize the flickers of difference Snape’s neutral expressions. He was concerned, his features softer than usual.

Abruptly, Harry felt a wave of embarrassment for the previous night. He had cried in front of Snape, begged him not to go, slept in his apartment. Snape. And Snape had been kind, his few words gentle as he had shuttled Harry from room-to-room, cleaning him up, talking him down. When had Snape started to change from his most hated professor to…whatever he was now?

Harry looked away. He couldn’t bear to look at the man. He ate at Ron and Hermione’s insistence, ignoring the post owls that would never bring him another letter from Sirius. He pushed the eggs someone - Hermione - had spooned onto his plate around and around. He wasn't hungry. Would he ever be hungry again?

It was the first time that he actually looked forward to the McGonnogal’s curt announcement that it was time for all students to gather their trunks and head towards the carriages.

Harry followed her instructions and at silently in the carriage beside Ron and Hermione, wondering if he would feel better away from Hogwarts. He had a sudden jerk of remembrance: he was supposed to be going to Grimmauld place. He thought about the room, the beautiful room Sirius had made just for him. During the last few weeks, Harry had imagined what life would have been like with Sirius over the summer: They'd wake late, play Quidditch, in the afternoons he would do his homework or see Ron and Hermione (he’d be allowed to see his friends), Sirius would study for the Healer’s exam, Harry - not Sirius- would cook dinner (Sirius would be appreciative, Harry proud of the delight he caused). They would read and talk into the night.

Harry didn’t know if it would actually be like that. He wasn’t sure how parents and children who liked each other acted. Anyways, Sirius would have gotten tired of him in a week or two and he’d be confined to his room while Sirius did whatever it was he did when Harry wasn’t around. Still, he had treasured the fantasy of having a family, love and felt the ache of loss all over again as it fell to dust before his eyes.

The carriages pulled up at the station. Woodenly, Harry followed Ron and Hermione, both of whom were talking quietly about what their parents were doing for their welcome home. Ron’s mother always put out a large feast. Hermione’s always took her to her favourite restaurant. Harry vaguely wondered if the Dursley’s would let him eat dinner.

His spiralling self-pity made him feel even worse. He sighed and shoved his trunk into the compartment, took one last, mournful look at Hogwarts, and moved to step up on to the train, back to his life.

“Potter,” Snape said from a few feet away. Harry looked Hermione, Ron and Neville, who looked back sympathetically.

“We’ll go find Ernie and Luna,” Ron said, leading Hermione and Neville on to the train and leaving Harry to face Snape alone. Harry swallowed and refusing to make eye contact, slowly walked over to Snape. Harry knew he should have thanked Snape for letting him stay in his apartment, for taking care of him, but thinking about that brought back the horribly embarrassing memory of Snape holding him as Harry sobbed like he hadn’t sobbed in years.

“Hi Professor Snape,” Harry said softly.

“Good afternoon, Potter.”

They stood in silence for a moment as the last few students started to pour into the trains, shrieking with laughter, excited to go home for the Holidays. It was a feeling Harry was completely unfamiliar with.

“I wanted to make some changes to your Potions syllabus,” Severus said, handing Harry a fresh piece of parchment. Harry reached out and took it. Potions seemed so long ago.

“I have heard back from the testing centre,” Snape continued. “You’ll re-write on August 6th in London.”

Harry blinked his big, green eyes - Lily’s eyes - up at Severus. He looked sad and small.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to, Professor Snape,” Harry said, softly. “My Aunt and Uncle don’t like magic. I probably won’t even be able to have my books.” Harry didn’t know why he said so much to Snape aside from the fact that Snape already knew so much about it him and he didn’t have the energy to conceal his life the way he normally did.

“You will re-write the exam on the 6th of August,” Snape said afar a moment of silence, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You will have private lessons with me every Thursday until then, both in Potions and in Occlumency.”

Taken aback, Harry looked back up into Snape’s eyes, which as usual were unfathomable. Why was he doing this? What did this mean?

“Private lessons?” he finally stammered out. The muscles in Snape’s forehead contracted into a brief frown then smoothed out.

“Unless of course you feel summer vacation is an adequate excuse for Voldemort to gain unobstructed access to your mind,” Snape said, sounding almost bored. “I’ll deal with your aunt and uncle if necessary.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, but he was more used to this Snape: annoyed, terse and a little frightening.

“Ok,” he muttered. It would be no worse than summer with Dursleys.. Snape gave a sharp nod.

“Good. See you next week, Potter. Safe travels,” he said. He turned on his heel, leaving Harry alone and stunned on the platform, unsure if his summer had just gotten better or worse.