7.

Harry’s trembling snapped the Potions Master out of his shock. He looked at the young man next to him: he buried his face into his palms, his nails were digging into his forehead as he fought against the attacking sobs.

Severus was at a loss. What was he supposed to do in a situation like this? He had always played the role of the heartless bastard, and it hadn’t been too hard, because he hated – no, he had hated – the boy, James Potter’s son with all of his heart, mind and might, but now… he didn’t know. And not because of Heather. But… this young man had lost so many things in his life. And he wasn’t a cruel bully, he was – and now, Severus realised: he had been – just an emotionally damaged boy, or young man, full of emotions, sorrows, fears carrying the whole wizarding world’s expectations on his shoulders… A very, very strong young man, but just a man. Not a hero. Not an idol. And this man was in the verge of an emotional breakdown – perhaps had been for months, but surely for the days Severus had been with him. Could it be the most hated professor’s appearance that sent him over the edge? Or was he over the edge, or was he still fighting, being the strong man everybody had expected him to be?

Potter’s now long hair slowly slipped in front of his face from behind his ears where he had previously tucked it, hiding his sorrow from the preying eyes of Severus. But the soft trembling could not be hidden.

Finally making a decision, Severus stopped at the next small village, in front of an inn, and without waiting for Harry’s reaction, he practically dragged the confused man into the building.

It was late afternoon, and there weren’t too many people in the inn, only the bartender and two other men talking quietly close to the door. Snape had a quick look around, and spotted a booth halfway between the door and the kitchen’s entrance. It was a good strategic place, there were no windows, so they couldn’t be seen from outside. He pushed the still trembling Potter into the booth, sat him down, and went to order some drinks and sandwiches. After the waiter left their table, he sat in the place facing Potter, and pushed the coffee into his hands.

‘Drink that.’

Potter nodded and drank, like an automaton. Then he lifted his face and looked into his oh-so-hated professor’s eyes.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, his shoulders still trembling. The skin of his forehead was bloody and marred where the nails had dug into it, and unshed tears clouded the green orbs.

‘You have to… release it somehow,’ he said flatly. ‘Did you… ever grieve for them?’

Harry lowered his eyes to the table. ‘I… didn’t dare. Tried to forget… There wasn’t anybody to help…’

The short sentences hit Snape in heart. ‘But…” he began, but Harry spoke up whispering to the coffee cup-

‘Everybody had died. Dumbledore had betrayed me. The only thing I could do was run. I ran.’ He emitted a short, bitter laugh. ‘I’m still running.’

‘Eventually, you have to stop. You can’t run forever…’

‘I hope Voldemort will kill me. And it will be finished.’

The young man’s voice was serious, just like at the first time in his flat, when he had told Snape to kill him.

‘Potter… Harry…’ Snape said tentatively. ‘You are still young. You have to face the Dark Lord, but you have the chance to survive…’

‘I don’t want to survive…’

‘You must!’

‘No.’ The voice was hollow, like Potter’s eyes.

Something in the younger man’s behaviour made Snape speak up again.

‘But yes,’ he said calmly, calmingly, and went on ignoring Harry’s obvious anger. ‘When I was young and stupid, I went to the Dark Lord and entered his service. I was barely 18. I was a cold, sarcastic, ugly teenager full of hatred and vengeance. I wanted to kill your father, Black and some other people and I found that the Dark Lord’s service would give me this opportunity. So I went. I was a fool. I was blinded by my own emotions, my vengeance. And when I came to my senses it was too late. I was marked. I couldn’t escape anymore. I had to witness murders and tortures, and soon I realised I wasn’t strong enough to go on. But I couldn’t escape. I was trapped. I was alone, I was a Death Eater and I saw no future for myself. I saw no way out.’ He sighed and smiled slightly. ‘Then I went to Hogsmeade, to the Hog’s Head and got drunk. I needed it, because I was too cowardly to act soberly. After I was completely pissed, I rented a room, closed myself in, and attempted suicide. It would have been successful, if that blasted Mundungus Fletcher hadn’t figured it out beforehand, and suddenly I realised that instead of hanging down from the ceiling I was lying in a bed surrounded by people. Fletcher, Aberforth and their mates from the pub. Finally, Fletcher decided to call Dumbledore. By the time the Headmaster arrived I was sober again, dreading the meeting, and I didn’t want to die anymore. But I knew that he would hand me over to the Ministry, and soon, I would find myself in Azkaban. But that never happened. When Dumbledore arrived, he sent everybody out. He somehow knew who, what I was, but he didn’t ask me why I went to the dark side. Instead, he comforted me, and later, he asked me to spy for him. I agreed.’

‘He manipulated you,’ Harry suddenly interrupted him. ‘He let the whole school bully you and push you to the dark side, he knew, I’m sure, that it would drive you to Voldemort, and when you were broken, he used you.’

‘Potter, it’s not-’

‘Why did he never punish my father or Sirius for their behaviour? Why didn’t he expel them from school, or at least Sirius after he almost killed you? He knows precisely what’s going on in the school. He wanted it to happen this way. He needed a spy, so he manipulated you into that situation.’

‘It’s not true!’

‘No?’ Potter raised a sceptical eyebrow, and Severus could barely suppress a moan.

He didn’t want to believe Potter. Believing Potter would mean that he accepted the fact that his whole life wasn’t his anymore, that the decisions he had made weren’t his anymore, that he really was nothing but a pawn, a stupid, little, emotional boy tricked onto a path he had never intended to visit…

‘He always trusted you, because you were under his control, because you believed you owed him for not giving you over to the Ministry, for saving you from Azkaban, for providing you with a job you always hated…’ Potter’s face wasn’t mocking, it was grave and sad. ‘You made an enormous mistake when you were young, but you were alone and pissed off, probably with a shit of a family background-’

‘Stop, Potter,’ Snape somehow groaned out, and to his surprise, Potter shut up. ‘I take responsibility for my mistakes. It was me, who made wrong decisions…’

‘You were eighteen.’

‘Adult.’

‘Barely.’

‘You have a persecution complex, Potter.’

‘No. I just hate that Dumbledore wants to win this war at any cost. That he thinks that the end justifies the means.’

‘Potter-’

‘No, Severus. Please, listen to me first, because I didn’t tell you the whole story. You really lost your last family.’

‘So I told you,’ Snape shrugged.

Potter ignored his remark. Instead, he took the whisky in his hand, and drank the whole glass in one gulp. ‘I need some help too, Severus. I’m not as brave as you believe.’

An uncomfortable foreboding crept into Snape’s belly wrenching his stomach. Potter put the glass back on the table, took a deep breath and began.

‘One year after I left school I finished my Auror training and I was directed to patrol in Hogsmeade. There, I met a girl, she was in her last year in Hogwarts. We could meet only on the Hogsmeade weekends, but, somehow, we… we liked each other. By the end of the year, I asked her out. She agreed, but she was very frightened because of her family. She didn’t want them to know that she was dating me, so we asked help from one of her friends, who was my friend too.’

Snape felt his head spun. It couldn’t be true…

‘Her friend helped us to meet regularly. But it was so humiliating, as if we had some kind of sordid affair: hiding, always hiding, keeping our mouths shut. But she was afraid to act. I was an idiot too at that time, but I was only nineteen, and I was afraid to have a serious relationship… I mean to lift our relationship onto a more serious level. She was so young, and I also… And I was afraid once I made a commitment, she would become a target too. So, we dated. We dated for two years, when… when once she came to a date with red eyes. I got frightened. I thought she wanted to leave me, but by that time, I was absolutely lost,’ Potter smiled to himself. ‘So, instead of listening to her, I asked her to marry me. She almost fainted, and told me that she was pregnant.’

Snape wanted to reach his hand out and give an encouraging squeeze to the young man, but he felt petrified in his place. The previous sorrowful story was turning into a horrible one, and he could barely maintain his usual neutral façade.

Everything in his mind fell on its place, but he decided to listen. Potter needed somebody to pour his heart out to. It was a story, Severus was sure, he had never told anybody.

‘I was terrified. It was one thing to marry somebody, but it was a totally different thing to have a baby in the middle of a war. So, we decided to keep everything secret. We chose false names and we began to construct a life to keep my future family safe. But then, her mother found out that she was pregnant. She broke down and told her mother everything. But her mother didn’t tell her father anything. On the contrary, she came to help us. It was her idea to move to Australia. We got married in the muggle way, and nobody, but Ron, Luna and her mother knew about our marriage. But we knew that I couldn’t just leave everything behind, so we agreed that I would remain in Britain, and visit them as often as I could. By June, we had every document we needed. The plan was, that Ron, Luna and… and they would come here before the birth and that they would live here as muggles to avoid further complications. We sent over the majority of our personal items, books, clothes, small things. Ron spent days here and bought furniture. Everything was ready. The plane tickets too.’ He looked at Snape, with a false grin on his face. ‘They would have come on the 25^th of June. And then, Dumbledore came, saw and conquered.’

The sudden silence was deafening.

‘And… what happened after… after you found…’ Snape gulped, his throat hurt. ‘Mr Weasley and Miss Lovegood…’

‘Dumbledore found me,’ Harry croaked out. ‘He thought I was severely injured, because I was bloody. Luna died in my lap. She bled out in my lap.’ He shuddered. ‘He brought me to Hogwarts, to Madam Pomfrey, and they gave me Dreamless Sleep.’ Suddenly, the young man hit the table with his fist in desperation. ‘The bastard! I told him I was fine, I wasn’t injured, and that I needed to go! I should go after Montague! But he insisted and I woke up the next day in the Infirmary. I knew that I was too late, but I had to try and find Heather anyway. I stunned Madam Pomfrey, and knocked Mundungus out and went. I was desperate and horrified. I knew where the Montague cottage was. I Apparated there. I found Martius in the sitting room. He attacked me, calling me names. I stunned him and he fell onto the mantelpiece. He broke his neck. He died there. And…’ Potter’s trembling was so strong that he couldn’t hold his glass anymore. Severus watched him for a few long moments, then with a sudden decision, stood up and slipped next to the young man. Harry looked at him. ‘It’s so terrible, Severus… I… I can’t tell you…’

‘Try it,’ he said gently.

For a moment, Potter looked as if he was about to faint, but after a moment, he regained consciousness and grabbed Snape’s robes seeking for something to cling on.

‘I found Heather in a bedroom. With… with my son. They were dead.’

Even if Snape had suspected this ending from the beginning of this conversation, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to hear it. To bear it. Potter burrowed his face into his sweatshirt mumbling.

‘The house elves told me that Martius beat Heather calling her names. Potter’s bitch. Whore. And… because of the beating she went into labour. But it was too soon. The baby was due to August. Then Martius thought that the child would be a great tool to blackmail me. But… but the child was dead. Then Martius killed Heather.’ By this time, Severus was holding Potter tightly, who was howling into his chest quietly. ‘By the time I arrived they were both dead… I couldn’t save them… I failed, because Dumbledore didn’t listen.’

Never in his life, Severus felt so utterly devastated. Even when he had tried to hang himself, he had been somehow… in a better mood. Oh, yes, it sounded quite stupid, but it was true. Potter’s tale was like a nightmare without the chance to wake up, final, like a grave-stone, and for a moment, he mused that life isn’t but that small line between two date. 1950-2001. Or 1982-2001. That small “-”. That’s what life is.

His sister, Heather Snape. Lived 51 years.

His niece, Heather Montague. Lived 19 years.

Hot tears clouded his vision. It was unfair. Unfair, unfair, unfair. They should have lived. But they were dead, because… because what? Because Potter had laid his eyes on Heather? Heather Montague. Montague. What a matching name! Heather Montague, a Slytherin from a Death Eater family, who had fallen for Harry Potter, the symbol of light… like a stupid Shakespeare tragedy.

Or what else? Because of a man, who had always done everything to win the war? A man, who had always considered everybody pawns in a horrible chess game?

Or because of Martius Montague, the cruel bastard, who hadn’t spared his only child?

No, he couldn’t blame Potter. The young man had done everything to protect his loved ones. But the other two… They were responsible. But Martius was dead, so it meant that he could call to account only Dumbledore. After the war. Yes, he would call the old man to account.

Potter’s sobs slowly subsided. Cautiously, Severus released him and pushed his own drink in front of the young man. He shook his head, and turned his face away in shame.

‘You don’t have to be ashamed, Harry.’ Snape sighed. His own face was tear-soaked, his own eyes were red too. ‘It had to be done…’

Potter nodded. ‘Sorry,’ he said again.

‘No need.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And how… how did my sister die?’

‘I went to her after… after…’ He shook his head. ‘I slept in her flat. In the morning, I found her dying in her bed. She had poisoned herself. I brought her to the hospital, but it was too late. She had died. The nurse gave me the poem book, she told me that they had found it in her pocket. I put the death certificate in the book and forgot about it.’

Long silence.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ Severus breathed out.

‘I didn’t want to,’ Harry answered, sincerity was clear in his voice. ‘But after you told me that Heather was your sister, I thought you had the right to know.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t know about it before. I could have helped…’

Potter nudged him and chuckled mirthlessly.

‘Oh, sure. You would have been thrilled about Harry Potter being the husband of your niece! Scandal! I think you would have yelled your head off, perhaps you would have cursed me or handed me over to Voldemort rather than to bear the idea of me being a family member of yours. And Heather, or both Heathers knew that. They never told me you were related. I wasn’t allowed to badmouth you though, because my wife, as an ex-Slytherin forbad me.’

‘I don’t know,’ Severus said after Potter finished the ranting. ‘I loved Heather as if she were my own child. Perhaps, she would have been able to make me accept you. We were quite… close. She and my sister spent almost every summer with me, and after she came to Hogwarts, we spent a lot of time together. She was quite lonely in her House. And before… before she ran away with you, she told me not to be worried, but she wanted to be free of her father. I wasn’t happy, but I trusted her. But then Heather too disappeared without a trace…’ He sighed. ‘Why didn’t I know about their burial?’

‘Because I didn’t invite anybody. That was the death wish of… of your sister. I… I know that you will be mad, but I buried them in Godric’s Hollow, next to my parents’ tomb.’

Potter was apparently waiting for a harsh reprimand, but Snape just nodded.

‘Thank you.’

‘No,’ Potter replied. ‘Thank you for letting me…’

Snape raised an eyebrow and smirked. ‘Dumbledore would be overjoyed seeing us so civil.’

Harry’s face fell.

‘Please, don’t… mention him. I blame him, even if you think he’s blameless in this situation. I feel as if he has stolen my life from me. Even if I know that it was Voldemort… I just can’t help it. If he had treated me as an equal, or at least as an adult… Sirius would be alive. Perhaps Remus and Hermione not, but Ron, Luna, my wife, your sister and…’ His voice trembled. ‘My son would be alive.’

‘Do you…’ Snape’s voice faltered like Potter’s. ‘Did you want to call him Solidus?’

Potter’s head jerked to him, betrayal and fear on his face. ‘How do you know that?’

‘You had a nightmare…’

‘Oh.’ Harry lowered his head again. ‘I wanted to call him Jason. But Heather wanted a serious name, a proper wizard name. So, our compromise was Jason Solidus Potter. But… I would throw that stupid Jason name away, if I could receive them back. I would do anything. Anything.’

It was that moment, when Snape just couldn’t help it. He squeezed Potter’s shoulder until the young man looked at him, and gulped.

‘Potter… Harry. I know that apologies don’t help. And that they can’t change the past. But I apologise for my behaviour. My behaviour since we met first. It was unacceptable. I was blinded by hatred and prejudice. I treated you worse than your father treated me. I didn’t want to see. I blamed them for my wrong decisions, for my failed life. I wanted to get revenge on you. I have no excuse. I should have been more… mature. But I wasn’t. I’m sorry.’

Harry’s face didn’t light up. ‘Once, I would have been thrilled by your apology. But now, I wish Heather was alive and you and me on bad terms…’ He shut his eyes for a long moment. ‘But, of course I accept your apology. Anyway, you’re my last family.’

‘Oh yes,’ Snape’s mouth circled upwards. ‘A kind of father-in-law.’

‘Yes. A kind of.’

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