Unforgivable Promises

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 7

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Snape's hand sped past Harry's ear and slammed the door shut just as Harry had managed to pull it open. Harry kept his face to the door. He could feel the instructor's presence just inches from him, and he had no idea what the man was planning. The idea had seemed like a good one at the time–a way to get one over on the Potion's Master and maybe get Harry's point across at the same time. He had not expected an apology, but he had not expected the kind of fury he could sense flowing from Snape.

"We are not done yet, Mr. Potter." The man's voice was cold, deadly. Not detention-for-a-term deadly, but Death Eater deadly. Harry had pushed him too far this time; a line had been crossed. "How dare you-"

As quickly as it had come upon him, Harry's terror was swept away, replaced with his own fury. He turned around. "How dare I what? How dare I ask you to treat me like a human being?" Snape's face was as cold as ever; Harry pressed on. "How dare I point out you're wrong about something, when all you ever do is insult me for the smallest mistake?"

"Your little game is over, Potter. Do not try to make a fool of me again." Snape pulled his wand from his robe. They definitely had crossed a line, and Harry was not going to back down. Not when Snape was threatening him like that.

"Get over yourself," Harry said with as much disgust as he could muster. Somewhere in the back corner of his mind there was a part of him that was not yet ready to collapse. That was the part that noted the utter shock that passed, for the briefest moment, through Snape's eyes.

"This is you last warning, boy."

"No, this is yours." Harry's tone dropped suddenly as the adrenaline seeped from his veins. He was calm again, as calm as Snape. He pulled his hair back from his forehead. "I got this because of what my parents did. Voldemort hates me for it. And we both know you will never hate anyone as much as Voldemort hates me." Harry took a step forward. "You want to hate me for what my father did to you? Get in line." Harry spun around and headed back to the door. He pulled his wand and with an economical twitch of his hand, the door swung open.

Harry kept his swift pace until he was back in his room. His friends, of course, had gathered to hear the results. He collapsed on the bed, suddenly exhausted, amidst his friends' questions. He rolled over onto his back. "That did not go well."

"C'mon, Harry," Ron said. "What happened?"

Harry stared at the ceiling. "I don't know. He got mad. Really mad. Then I got mad. Things were bad before. They're worse now."

"I'm sorry, Harry." Ginny was frowning. "It was my idea."

"It isn't your fault, Ginny."

"Did it work, though?" Hermione asked. Harry looked at her like she'd turned into a flobberworm. "I mean, did he admit that you're not the egomaniac he keeps saying you are."

"During the lesson, yeah. After it. . ." Harry shrugged.

Harry filled his friends in on how the lesson had gone. He even decided to try to make peace with Hermione by giving up a little of Snape's secret. "The memory I saw was of Snape and my father when they were in Hogwarts together. That's why he doesn't like me."

"Because of your dad?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. He and my father didn't quite get along."

"What exactly did your father do?" Hermione asked, never quite content without the full story.

"I'm still not going to tell you that," Harry said. Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. Harry, expecting as much, ignored it. "So anyway, he got mad, I got mad, and I told him if he was going to hate me for what my father did to him, he'd have to wait for Voldemort to finish with me first." Ron was looking at him like he'd just been hired on as Seeker for the Chudley Canons.

"Wow, Harry," Neville said. "Hey, if you get the Pensieve, can you show us the look on his face when you said that?"

"I'm just so sick of suffering for what my parents did," Harry said.

"Harry!" Remus had apparently come in silently. "What a thing to say!"

Harry grew pale. "No, I didn't mean. . . Not Voldemort or anything." Remus's featured softened a little. "It's just Snape." Harry sighed.

"What happened?"

Harry retold the story again. Remus growled and opened the door. "Come with me, Harry. This has gone on long enough."

Harry followed his father's friend to the library. As they approached the door, Harry's steps slowed. "I really don't think-"

Remus opened the door and entered, leaving Harry in the hall. So much for getting out of this. Harry cautiously slipped into the room and closed the door. Snape was sitting in his customary chair, legs crossed.

"I was wondering how long you'd take to run to Lupin," Snape said.

"Firstly, Harry didn't come running to me. I asked him what happened. But I have more important things to talk to you about." Remus waited for Snape to say something, but the man stayed silent. "Look, Severus, what happened between all of us was ages ago. I don't expect you ever to call me a friend, and I can even understand holding a grudge against Sirius for trying to send you to the shack that night, but if you can treat me no more uncivilly than the rest of the world, why can't you let go of how James treated you too? He was no worse than I was."

Harry was not too thrilled at Remus's implication that Sirius deserved to be hated, but he held his tongue. Remus had not tried to get Snape killed, and his father had even stopped it from happening. It was Sirius, after all, who wanted to see the prank through.

"Don't be stupid, of course he was worse."

Harry bit his lip and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for his wand. Remus asked, "How? Hell, Severus, we were always together, I couldn't be any less to blame for. . ." Remus trailed off. Snape's cold glare was fixed on Remus, and he raised an eyebrow expectantly as the werewolf trailed off. "Seventh year. It was James who told everyone?"

"As if you didn't know. Always together, after all."

Remus shook his head. "No, he never said anything." He looked up at met Snape's eyes. "Lily. He probably told her first. She wouldn't have let him tell us. Merlin, I. . . Harry, would you please wait outside?"

Harry left quietly but kept the door slightly open. A part of him wanted to hear this, and another part desperately wanted to run away. He had been a lot more comfortable thinking of his father before he started discovering Snape's past.

From the doorway, Remus's words drifted to Harry. "Severus, I never really apologized for the stuff during seventh year. And saying I'm sorry now seems hypocritical. I have no excuse for what I did. A werewolf saying the things I said– I don't deserve your forgiveness. At least the way I'm treated is because there's a chance I'll hurt someone. You never killed anyone because you're. . ."

"Didn't I?"

"Merlin." Harry heard the sounds of someone settling heavily into a chair.

"Oh, please, Lupin. The last thing I need or want is your pity."

A sigh. "Okay, Severus. I'll drop it. But still, Harry isn't James. Harry never did anything to you. Can't you at least see that?" Silence. "Then what about Lily? She stood up for you. Harry may look like his father, but he's as much Lily's child as James's. He needs these lessons, Severus. There's more than just his sanity at stake here. I can't teach him as well you can. Even Albus can't."

"I never said I wouldn't teach the boy." Was it Harry's imagination, or was Snape's voice a little less harsh when he said that. "You may was well come back in, Mr. Potter."

Harry hesitated, wondering if it was better to pretend he didn't hear and hadn't been eavesdropping. Then again, when had he ever known Snape to be fooled by such tactics? Harry returned to find Remus looking distraught and Snape as calm as ever. "Sir?"

Snape pointed to a bookshelf. "There is a book of advanced Occlumency on that shelf. I want two feet on the first five chapters for tomorrow." Harry found the book and desperately wanted to leave, but he was unsure if he should apologize for what had happened. He was not even sure if he would be apologizing for what he had done or his father. Snape solved his problem for him.

"You may go. Both of you. And Lupin, please tell Albus he may retrieve his Pensieve at his leisure. We will no longer be using them. It is time Harry moved past such crutches."

Harry was not sure what that would mean for future lessons but was certain it would be a bad idea to point out that Snape, not Harry, had originally insisted on the Pensieves. Harry was disappointed, though. He had started enjoying his lessons up until today. He could not see that happening without the aid of magical artifacts.

Torn between asking Remus about what he and Snape had talked about and leaving well enough alone, Harry was sure Remus wouldn't share, so he let it go. When he got back to his room, his friends were still there waiting for him. Harry told them what had happened, forbidding Hermione from digging further.

-----

Harry spent the rest of the day hiding in the book Snape had assigned him. He was trying very hard not to think too much about what Remus and Snape had talked about. The minute he had seen his father taunting Snape in the Pensieve last year, he wished he had never looked into the silver dish. Whatever this new thing was, it must have been worse than what he had witnessed.

The next morning, Harry was both worried and relieved when Snape informed him they would not be doing any practice work in Occlumency. Worried, because he knew he needed to become a master at the skill. Relieved, because he was far too tense in the Potion Master's presence to control his emotions. Instead, Snape read over his essay as Harry read the next few chapters in his book.

The book was useful, at least, and Harry had even run out to fetch some parchment and a quill to take notes. The first ten minutes were silent but for the rustling of pages and the scrape of the quill.

"Miss Granger helped you with this," Snape said. Harry rubbed at the ink he had splattered and tried to discern if that had been a question or accusation.

"No, sir. Hermione hasn't studied Occlumency."

Snape grunted and went back to reading the essay. Harry returned to his note taking. Several more minutes passed, and Snape rolled up Harry's essay and placed it on the table next to him. He took up the four pages Harry had already filled with notes and looked them over.

"There is much more mentioned in that chapter than you wrote here."

"Uh, yes, Professor. But a lot of it is stuff I've already been doing, or at least trying to do, during the practicals. I'm only writing down new techniques and theory."

"It's good to see you taking this seriously."

"I always have, sir."

"Even yesterday?" Snape dropped the papers on the table and returned to his chair. "That little game of yours?"

"I wasn't trying to make a fool of you, Professor. Don't you get tired of everyone assuming something about you that's not true?"

"What are you talking about?" Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Everyone thinks you're a Death Eater. Well, I guess you are, technically, but only members of the Order and other Death Eaters know for sure. But most of the students at Hogwarts think you're Voldemort's biggest supporter. Doesn't it bother you that you can't tell them they're wrong?"

"That wouldn't exactly be healthy for me, would it?"

"Well, no sir. I don't mean to say you should tell anyone anything. But I didn't think there was anything to lose by showing you that I'm not the person you think I am."

"There is always something to lose, Potter."

Harry stared down as his notes for a moment. "I don't really know how to answer that."

"Well, that is hardly a surprise, is it?"

Why am I even bothering trying to talk to him? "No, Sir, I don't suppose it would be." He took up his quill again and started on the next page.

-----

Snape watched Harry go back to his book. The boy gave up too easily. Not that he had expected an argument, but Harry had never simply accepted a remark like that with such resignation. He leaned back in his chair and charmed the doors locked.

"So tell me, Mr. Potter. Who are you?" Snape asked. Harry paused in his writing and looked up, but did not speak. "There's no punch line, Mr. Potter. If I'm so mistaken regarding whom you are, then tell me. Who are you?"

"I'm just Harry. And that's all I want to be. I don't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I don't want to be Voldemort's worst enemy. And I want to be able to walk down a street just once without people whispering about me."

"You seem to go out looking for trouble a lot for someone who wants such a simple life."

Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He looked so tired lately. Snape recalled that yesterday Harry told him he was still having nightmares.

"The only time I go looking for it is when no takes me seriously. I only tried to find the Philosopher's Stone when everyone kept telling me it was safe. I knew someone was trying to get to it. I was just wrong about who." Harry glanced up at Snape at that. Snape knew Harry had suspected him, not Quirrell. "When the Chamber of Secrets was opened, all you teachers kept saying it didn't exist. The only people who believed it was open were the same people who thought I opened it. And I never wanted to be in the Triwizard tournament."

Harry put his glasses back on and stared out the window behind Snape. "I guess I was looking for trouble when I went to the Department of Mysteries, but if wanting to save the closest thing to a real family I've ever had makes me an attention grabbing egomaniac, then I guess I am what you think I am."

"No, that makes you a Gryffindor."

Harry continued to stare out the window, then finally shook his head and said, "I must be more tired than I'd realized. That almost sounded like a joke."

"That was a joke. And you are too tired. You could have asked me for a sleeping potion. Or something to prevent dreams."

Harry looked away. "I didn't want to trouble you."

Snape recalled his reaction the last time Harry had asked him for a potion. He had mocked Harry for feeling the injuries he had gotten trying to keep Snape's secret safe. Damn the boy. Why in the world does he allow himself to be treated that way? Snape turned his anger outward toward the young wizard. The boy was determined to be a doormat; how could Snape be blamed for insulting him? He was staring at Harry again, who shifted in his seat and shuffled through his notes to avoid his gaze.

"Are we going to be practicing again soon, Professor? There are a few things I read about that I'd like to try."

He had expected the question eventually. He knew Harry would never improve without more practical experience, but he was no longer willing to use the Pensieve. The mental shift being forced on him after each lesson was taking its toll. The alternative, though, was not much better. Snape had too many memories he had no desire to share. And there were things he'd seen, things he'd done, that would give Harry nightmares. No one should have to see them.

That last thought caused a frown, and Harry looked worried. The boy already had nightmares, though. And the things he'd seen, no lived, through his connection to Voldemort were far beyond anything Snape had done. If he really intended to protect the boy, it would have to be through strengthening Harry's ability to shield himself from the Dark Lord's mind, not his own. As for the other things his mind held, that could be dealt with now.

"Yes, you will continue to practice. I meant what I said about the Pensieves, though. You've learned the basics free of personal distractions. You do not have that luxury when your skills are truly tested by the Dark Lord and his followers." Harry nodded. "Before we do that, however, there are things we need to discuss."

Snape paused again. Why was he delaying this time? Who was he trying to protect? He should be shoving Harry's father's actions down his throat. That solved nothing, though, and besides, he had been doing that to Harry for the past five years, in all honesty.

"As you pointed out yesterday, my feelings towards you are rather closely tied to my feelings about your father. You know some of what happened between us already."

"Until seventh year." At least Harry had enough sense to admit to his eavesdropping.

"That is correct. What you saw in the Pensieve was rather typical of what went on until seventh year." Snape kept talking, unsure if he would be able to start again if he stopped. "Our seventh year, however, you father discovered that I am homosexual. He went on to inform the school. I was never quite popular before that, but as you can imagine, I became even less so afterwards. And your father and his friends proved that they were capable of torment far beyond what they had shown previously." Harry was no longer looking at him. "It will likely show up at some point when you're working on your Legilemency skills."

"Are we going to be practicing today, Sir?"

Snape could hear the tightness in Harry's throat. "No, I believe we have covered quite enough today. We will continue tomorrow."

Head down, Harry stood and nearly ran from the room. Snape had to remove the locking charm from the door lest the boy hurt himself. His book and notes were still on the table. Snape replaced the quill in its well, dabbing up the ink that had spilled across the parchment. He heard the floorboards on the story above creak, followed by a dull thud. Snape growled and headed to the stairs.

-----

Snape found Harry in one of the attic rooms, sitting on a dusty trunk and scrubbing his eyes at the sound of his approach. "You realize, Mr. Potter, that once someone discovers you up here, they will undoubtably come to me demanding to know what I did to you. So I thought perhaps I should find out for myself so my answer is informed."

"I'm fine," the boy said. Snape crossed his arms. "You didn't do anything. I know you have no patience for this kind of thing. You don't need to be up here, Professor."

"Be that as it may, I am here now and you are clearly upset."

"I'll be fine. Please just leave me alone."

"If that is truly what you want, I will go. But first, a word. I do not know exactly what part of what I told you drove you up here. But if you share your father's prejudices, I suggest you get over them quickly. I am no longer the boy I was back then."

"Don't worry, I don't share my father's prejudices." Harry's voice broke on the last word, and Snape suddenly understood.

"Potter, are you gay?"

The boy looked at him sharply. Snape could see the tears welling, sparkling emerald. Sobs wracked Harry's body as he hid his face in his hands. Hesitating a moment, Snape put a hand on a trembling shoulder. Damn Minerva for being away. She was better with this type of thing. Anyone would be better at it. He felt like he should say something but had no idea what.

"Your father. . ."

"My father tortured you because you were. . . What you are. That's what turned you into a Death Eater, isn't it?" Harry's voice was harsher than Snape had ever heard it. "That's what you meant when you told Remus you killed people because of what you are."

"I turned to the Dark Lord for many reasons. Even I don't blame your father for that. Not entirely."

"But he hated you because of it."

Snape barked out a low laugh. "You father hated me well before seventh year."

"And somehow, he managed to hate you even more after he found out."

"James changed after graduation. He had such a narrow view in school. We all did. That's the nature of students. Later on. . ."

"He would have hated me too." Harry's unspoken admission was not lost on Snape. That took strength. "My parents would have hated me."

"No!" Snape scared himself at the force of his own words. It certainly startled Harry. "I won't pretend to know how your father would have reacted. But I will not tolerate you speaking so of your mother. You heard what Lupin said yesterday. She defended me, and she would not have you loved you any less for something so trivial. She did not see what we are as flawed, or lesser. I can say with certainty that she would have been proud of you. And if you father were too thickheaded to be proud of you too, then he is undeserving of your consideration."

Harry nearly disappeared into his robes. Several minutes passed; Snape was out of words.

"I'd like to be alone, if it's okay." Harry's voice was small and muffled, but his body was no longer shaking from the sobs. Snape stood.

"If you want to talk about anything, anything at all, I will be in my room." Snape said. The words sounded awkward on his ears. "I realize I made a similar offer recently. But you will note that this time, I make the offer with the Pensieve empty."