For Our Parents Willed So

For Our Parents Willed So

*

The Arranged Accident

*

It was a late evening as James came back from his Quidditch practice. He found Snape on a chair beside their desk, the long fingers studying a Transfiguration text book. That brought something to James's mind, and he decided to mention it aloud.

"Today, you didn't start taking notes before the Professor started to read them aloud," James said. "Why not?"

Snape didn't even bother raising his eyes at James, for they both knew it wouldn't have made any difference to him. "Because I couldn't see them," he replied smoothly.

"You didn't see them?" echoed James, shocked.

"No, I didn't. My sight seems to be getting worse." Even though the Slytherin obviously did his best to keep his voice cool and casual, James didn't fail to notice the odd thickness in his tone. The thickness that told of tears that were trying to get out of his eyes.

"That settles it, then," said the Gryffindor firmly. "During the next Potions lesson, we'll fake the accident. You'll soon be completely blind if we wait too long!"

"I hardly think it'll do any difference," said Snape bitterly. "My eyes have been damaged for so long that nothing will bring even most of my sight back."

"Then at least the teachers will know that you cannot see," said James firmly. "It's only a matter of time until you get injured during some lesson because you don't know how to avoid the danger, or see that there even is one. I won't let that happen."

"Why do you care?" asked Snape quietly.

"Excuse me?" James asked shockedly.

"Don't act stupid, Potter. You know very well what I mean. What the hell do you care whether I'm blind or I see? It's not like it'd affect your life in any way."

"Well, it just happens to affect it," James snapped back. "At first, once we're married, and even now, I'm the one who's supposed to help you live with your injury. The better you are, the easier it's to me. Also, I'm a 'bloody Gryffindor,' like you so kindly put it. I couldn't live with myself if I knew that you're blind and I could have prevented it."

"Should have guessed," Snape said dryly. But there was some odd tone in his voice that James couldn't really recognize.

*

Eyeing the teacher, James chose a moment when he was in the other side of the class room, bent over a Slytherin pair's cauldron to examine the potion. "Now," he hissed, dropping a couple of beetle eyes to the potion, knowing very well what this would cause. Then he stepped backwards, while Snape leant forward, acting as if he was watching the development of their brewery. They'd talked about this part of their plan very much, and decided to just trust their luck that Snape wouldn't get really injured by the potion. Besides, Snape had claimed that even though the potion they were going to make could indeed cause loss of sight, it wouldn't do any worse harm.

A loud hissing and popping began in their cauldron, drawing everybody's attention to it. The professor also turned towards them just in time to see the small explosion that made the potion splash all over the two boys.

"My eyes!" exclaimed Snape, bringing his hands to his eyes. James had to admit that he would make a good actor. If he hadn't known better, he could've sworn that the boy had truly been injured by the potion.

"What's the matter, Snape?" asked Professor Malfoy, now alarmed. He walked right to the boys, a slightly worried look on his face. "Did you get potion to your eyes?"

"Y - yes," whispered Snape, taking his hands away. "I - I cannot see!" His voice was reaching an almost panicked tone. There was no way James could do anything else than adore his skills.

"You cannot see?" echoed Professor Malfoy, frowning. "That's bad. Do you see how many fingers I'm showing?" he asked then, raising four fingers.

With a stab in his heart James remembered that this part Snape didn't have to act. "T - two?" the Slytherin guessed. Guessed, for he truly couldn't see that much, not when the Professor was so near to him.

Snapping his tongue, Malfoy shook his head worriedly. "Get your fiancé to the Infirmary, Potter," he commanded. "You others, set back to work - and be ware not to have the same accident!" he added with an almost threatening tone.

James nodded, trying to seem reluctant. He took Snape by hand, leading the other boy out of the classroom.

As soon as they were out, James let out a low whistle. "Congratulations," he said quietly. "I've rarely seen as good acting as you just performed. Do you truly need help getting to the Infirmary?"

"If you can stand my presence for that long, it'd be nice," Snape replied. "In the beginning, I followed the other students, and the portraits often told me where to go if I got lost. Nowadays, I know the corridors well enough to get anywhere I have to go. But as I hardly ever go to the Infirmary, yes, I would like help - besides, it'd be suspicious if you went back right away, and you cannot just wander around the corridors. You don't have your invisibility cloak with you, you know, and teachers aren't blind, even if I am."

Nodding slightly at this, James startd leading their way towards the Infirmary. He knew the way better than he'd wanted to. Not only one of them was almost always injured - mostly because of Quidditch, three of them were in the team after all - but they visited Remus in the Infirmary after every full moon.

As they opened the door, Madam Pomfrey sighed, since she didn't see Snape at first. "James Potter," she snapped strictly, "if you've had one single more 'accident' with your potions, I shall give you in to the professor. "I'm not going to stand you getting a few scratches to your hands just to skip a lesson. That shall not happen again, do you hear me?"

"I'm not the one injured, Ma'am," James said, managing to even sound slightly ashamed. "Severus Snape is, Ma'am. The potion splashed to his eyes."

"What?!" exclaimed the mediwitch, her expression turning instantly to worried. As she saw Snape walking in, his hand over his eyes, she rushed immediately to him, starting a quick examination.

After some time, Madam Pomfrey stopped the examination. "Some of this, I can heal," she said, frowning slightly. "But most of your eyes are scarred too badly to be helped." Nailing her eyes at Snape, she asked, "You have injured your eyes before, haven't you? At least five years ago."

"Seven years ago, when I'd just turned nine," told Snape smoothly. "I didn't dare to tell anyone, I thought my father would have got mad at me. I've found ways to deal with life even though I do not see."

"Well, that's for sure," she muttered. "It's a wonder you've passed one single practical exam with these eyes! No matter you've been hopeless in Astronomy. And you got eleven out of twelve OWLS last year? What on earth did you do to accomplish that?"

"I failed the Astronomy exam with flying colours," replied Snape without batting an eyelid.

"Don't play smart with me, Severus Snape. How do you hit the target of your spell?"

"With luck, usually," the Slytherin replied, shrugging. "Or not at all. I've also developed some kind of an instinct to know where the target is, once I've hit it once, no matter where it goes. I guess it has to have something to do with the magical traces."

"Most likely," the mediwitch muttered. "Now, at first I'll do my best to restore what little of your sight can be restored. Then I'll make sure that you never again participate on Astronomy Lessons, nor you struggle to write down notes. You've been wearing off the little that you have left of your sight. I do not tolerate that."

Sighing, Snape replied, "Fine, Madam."

"And do not go sighing at me. I'm just doing what's the best for you."

James suppressed a chuckle as Snape replied resignedly, "Of course, Madam..."

*

About half an hour later, Snape lay on the Infirmary bed, asleep, as the last spells were affecting him. James, however, was involved in a discussion with Madam Pomfrey. He'd explained the history of the injury to her, as well as pleaded her to keep quiet about it.

"I shall not tell anybody about Severus's secret, but I want you to take care of him from now on, James," the mediwitch said firmly. "You are to see that he finds whatever he looks for, that he knows where to walk, that he doesn't collide with anything or anyone, that he doesn't trip over, everything. Basically, you have to take care that his disability won't cause him any harm."

"Fine with me, Ma'am," said James with a resigned sigh. "But I hardly think that Snape will accept that. After all, it'd require either me following him or him following me all the time."

"Oh, I'm sure he will accept," said the mediwitch. "Just wait and see."

"But what about when we're on different lessons?" the boy still tried to argue. "I cannot be near him then!"

"Then you shall have the same lessons," the mediwitch replied, not caring about his protests. "I'll get you both a new schedule for tomorrow, and inform the teachers that neither of you will appear to any lessons today."

Seeing that he had not options, James sighed, and nodded. Seemingly there was not getting rid of his fiancé.

*

And truly, Snape did agree to the arrangement, albeit grudgingly, like James. So, after the Infirmary door had closed behind them, the boys faced each other - or, rather, James faced Snape, whose eyes were directed somewhere behind him. Even though his sight was a little better now, he still couldn't see anything too near him.

"So you're my babysitter now, eh?" asked Snape. "Great. Just what I needed."

"Speak of yourself," grumbled James. "All Iwant is being with my friends, and now I'm destined to follow you!"

"Not necessarily."

Giving the other boy a puzzled look, James asked, "What do you mean?"

"You don't necessarily have to follow me, especially as I hardly go anywhere other than classes. I can follow you around just as well... with two conditions."

"Oh?" James raised his eyebrows. "And what are those?"

"One: You take care that your friends don't pull any immature pranks on me. And you won't, either. Two: You don't call me Snape. I'll be damned if I walk around with a guy who doesn't seemingly even know my name."

With a firm nod that went unseen, James replied, "Under one condition: You don't call me Potter."

"Fine then... James."

"Yes, Sn - Severus."

For a moment, Snape was quiet. Then he asked, a bit hesitantly, "James... May I?" From his raised hands, James knew exactly what he meant.

"Of course," he replied quietly. He then stood still while his once-enemy lightly traced his face with his fingertips, studying his every feature.

"My last memory of your appearance is from when we were eight," Severus said then, almost like trying to explain or apologize for his behaviour. "I just wanted to know whether you've changed from that, since I can see only the general form of a human when I look at anyone from the distance."

"Well, have I changed?" James asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Hardly," replied Severus, his poker face never faltering. "Only those freckles are different from your earlier form."

"I do not have freckles."

"I'm well aware of that. Must be some horrible disease, then."

And, as they both chuckled at that, James thought that he might survive this after all.