Lily's Charm: The Gift

Where the emptiness consumes you...

Black.

Empty spaces, filled with hate.

Glee.

It must be stopped.

He must be stopped.

--

1996

"Come through," Severus finally snapped after Remus' second refusal, but his features melted into a passive mask of disinterest as Remus stepped through the flames. Lupin's face was waxen; he looked about as close to exhaustion as he could possibly be without actually toppling over. His eyes were rimmed in red, and the skin around them was puffy. Severus ignored all the signs that the other man had been crying and ordered a generous measure of fire whisky from the kitchens--Remus' taste for wine would not be as developed as his own.

"Thank you," Remus murmured, though the small tumbler stayed put on the arm of the chair where he had all but collapsed as soon as he had cleared the hearth. His fingers wound themselves tightly around the delicate glass.

Severus waited for him to speak. But Remus said nothing as he stared at the still liquid.

"Harry will want to speak with Scrimgeour about this."

Remus looked up sharply. "No," he said with a firm shake of his head. "That's precisely why I didn't let either of you know before you left for the banquet."

Severus regarded his son's friend speculatively. "When were you notified?" he asked after a pause. Remus looked away.

"I should apologize to Harry for this morning." The ambiguity did not suit him.

Severus breathed in a silent, calming breath before speaking. "Your own foul mood does not excuse Harry's behavior, even if you were overly harsh with him."

Remus smiled; it was a twisted expression, full of regret. "It hardly matters now, Severus."

"It takes so little for you to give up, then?" Severus asked seriously, though his tone was tilting with sarcasm.

"There isn't anything to do about it," Remus told him tiredly, not even rising to Severus' bait. "Even Albus didn't have any encouragement."

"Harry will not let this happen, you realize."

Remus frowned at him. "And what I want makes no difference, I suppose?"

Severus was startled by the bitterness in the other man's tone, but he did not comment on it. "It is not what you want. It is being forced upon you by ignorant purebloods-"

"Ignorant?" Remus interrupted with both eyebrows raised in skepticism. "You would have been among them not months ago, Severus," he said quietly. Severus dipped his head in acknowledgement. He could not deny it, though it would have been out of spite toward a childhood tormentor, rather than any real idealism about pure-bloodedness.

He let that discussion lie. It was much too personal.

Instead he inquired, "And how to do you plan to support a wife, much less a family, if you are no longer employed?" He had meant the question to come out more sarcastic than it actually did. But he didn't think his unintended concern was the reason for the sudden tremor along Remus' jaw.

"That no longer matters either," he said quietly, before knocking back his fire whisky, while Severus watched with a regret he didn't know how to contend with.

Needing something to cover the soggy discomfort in the air, Severus reached for the flask of wine next to the Floo, intending to pour himself a generous portion. But the flask slipped from Severus' fingers as agony jolted through him. He barely heard the heavy shattering of glass against the stone floor.

Harry.

All other thoughts fled his mind. Terror filled his heart as he moved without conscious thought toward the Floo. He was vaguely aware of Remus stepping in next to him and the other man calling for Gryffindor Tower, and then his heart stopped as he stumbled out of the fireplace.

Harry's screams filled the common room.

He recognized that there were far too many children in the room for this late hour, and he had to shove more than one startled student aside as he rushed toward the stairs. Remus' footsteps were close behind. Halfway up the staircase, he heard the desperate shout, "Get Snape!" and then a body collided with his. Without even pausing, Severus twisted around the tall, lanky form and finished his ascent in only a few seconds.

The screaming continued.

Severus could feel the heat draining from his face as he stepped over the threshold; Harry was writhing on the bed, his face filled with such harsh pain that all Severus could feel was a raw, desperate need to take it away. He paid little attention as Ginny, huddled over his son's body, tried to explain in nonsensical babble what she was doing in Harry's bed, but Severus had no care for his son's sexual explorations at the moment. He needed the girl to move.

"Move," he snapped before he could stop himself, his voice almost a growl. Ginny paled and quickly scrambled off the bed.

Limbs, which had been held down with Ginny's pressuring fingers, began to tumble freely against the sheets and the screaming didn't abate at all. Severus leaned over his struggling son, ignoring his own echoing pain, and the stench of alcohol on Harry's breath, as he grabbed Harry's arms.

"Harry," Severus said sharply as he tried to shake his son awake. He seemed to be caught in a nightmare. Severus twisted around to glare at Ginny. Her face was stark white. "Did he take a potion before he went to sleep?" he asked, his voice ringing in the still room. He didn't bother to temper his emotions, didn't even bother to wonder why he was asking when he already knew the answer--he couldn't smell the Draminweed on Harry's breath.

Ginny shook her head quickly. "We didn't mean to fall asleep" she attempted to explain, but Severus cut her off.

"How much did he drink?"

This time Ginny didn't flinch. "A little more than one individual bottle," she supplied and Severus could hear the disapproval in her voice. He spun around to Harry again. There was no ready reason why Harry shouldn't wake up from a simple nightmare.

Severus shook him again, but to no avail. There was nothing else he could think to do save entering his son's mind; he sat gingerly on the bed beside Harry, and Severus forced himself to breathe evenly as he splayed his fingers against Harry's perspiring face.

Harry's consciousness streamed against his own. But the storm was nothing but purest pain. And it seemed to be slipping, as though a crevice had opened and the cloud was seeping through. It was impossible, but instead of the dense thickness of Harry's shield that Severus usually encountered, the cloud was light--he could see Harry's nightmare beyond without pressing inward.

Severus brought his flames forward, as gently as he dared; he had no idea how imbedded Harry was inside his nightmare. The flames melted through the flimsy storm with ease. And then he wanted to recoil away from the anger seething from within. Black, his face filled with hate, was screaming words that Severus could not understand.

But he wasn't falling into the veil, as Harry had described of an earlier dream. Instead, Black was coming through the immortal curtain, the Department of Mysteries a glacial cave, and he was brandishing an icicle as though it were a spear. He seemed to become more violent with Severus' intrusion. But Severus couldn't find his son.

Severus finally saw, his anxiety spiking, that Harry's storm was huddled in a corner, quaking with cold.

Harry was hiding.

The flame went toward the terrified storm.

Harry, the flames warmed quietly and then flicked sharply against the shaking storm when there was no response, but there should have been something from the storm. He could sense his son all around the icy chasm. Entangled in the parts that were purely Black.

You need to come with me, Severus directed but the storm rumbled with uncertainty.

With mistrust.

This is not real. Your godfather is not here. This is a dream, the flames tried to reassure him. That which was Harry didn't seem to believe him. He seemed incapable of it, in fact. I will take you out of here. You are my son, Severus insisted and there was a small flicker of understanding within Harry's conscious.

...cold, the storm chattered and without deciding to do it, Severus wrapped his flames around Harry, drawing the storm inside the circle of fire. He felt immediate relief that Harry didn't protest. Si...Sirius, the icy storm attempted to explain, but then the winds petered out and the wasted storm seemed to collapse against the flames. Severus could feel the betrayal in his son's mind.

And, it was an odd sensation, but Severus could feel his son's fingers gripping his, even as he remained in Harry's mind. As if Harry's storm was not strong enough to anchor him here. Severus felt like he was teetering between a dream and reality.

"...Harry," he could hear himself saying out loud and then he could feel the skin around his son's mouth relax and he realized that the screams had ceased. Uncertain if Harry could release himself from whatever had trapped him, Severus kept his flames securely around the storm, and steered his son from the frozen cavern, being extremely careful not to let Black's angry litany break through his shields--Harry's shields seemed useless. To be so affected by a dream, it was painfully obvious that Harry was in much more distress than Severus had realized.

Flame and storm left the icy cave where Black's memory had taken up residence. Severus didn't even bother to guide Harry back to consciousness; he simply dragged him along, and then Severus found himself leaning over Harry, his hands still against his son's face.

Severus pulled back a little, and chanted a wandless, "Ennervate."

Harry's eyes drifted open. He blinked up at his father in confusion. "Dad?" he asked in a wispy voice, attempting weakly to sit up, but Severus held him down, exerting very little effort to keep his son in place. Harry didn't even struggle. His eyes were searching him and Severus realized the query was a confirmation of Severus' identity.

"Yes," he answered. Harry relaxed at the word, though the smaller fingers against his own tightened. Odd that Harry could have been aware enough to find them while still caught in his nightmare. "How do you feel?" Severus asked roughly, his anxiety not at all abated. A nightmare shouldn't do this...

Harry shook his head, as though trying to clear his jumbled thoughts. The skin around his eyes was pinched and pale. He looked nearly as tired as he had when Severus had returned after Halloween. "You were having a nightmare," Severus told him and Harry's color drained even further. Severus watched as remembrance seeped into his son's eyes.

"Sirius," he whispered, sounding as though he was about to empty his stomach, and then his emerald eyes widened. "It was only a dream?" he asked and when Severus nodded, Harry shuddered; Severus could clearly feel his trepidation, just as he had felt in Harry's mind. "He wanted to kill me." The strangled pronouncement stiffened Severus' spine. He sounded so assured of it.

"It was a nightmare," Severus told him firmly, but Harry shook his head; the black strands waved back and forth against the white pillow. Severus watched with mounting worry as Harry swallowed several times, but he didn't vocalize whatever he had been disagreeing with. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping eye contact.

Severus leaned down a bit, and Harry flinched. But this time, Severus didn't back away, though he did cover the pain that flowed again at Harry's clear discomfort. It was the second time that Harry had shied away from him, and yet Harry's fingers didn't lose their desperate grip. Something was very wrong.

"Harry." He used the name as a command and Harry's eyes snapped up. The emerald was dull and haunted, and they seemed ringed with guilt, though Severus didn't think it was purely for his misdeeds in the past few hours. "What did you wish to say?" he asked, pitching his voice so that the others in the room wouldn't easily hear him. Harry continued to gaze at him, though he almost looked like he could be easily startled into bolting off the bed. Severus pulled back a little; Harry's eyes took on a wild hue, and his fingers attached themselves more securely to his father.

"No," he whispered. "Don't go."

Severus wound his fingers tightly in Harry's before moving both sets downward to rest on Harry's chest. Harry relaxed, but he was still watching him warily. "I am here," Severus assured him quietly.

Harry couldn't have explained the intense feeling of intrusion, nor the relief and simultaneous panic that washed through him as Severus moved backward slightly, and then grasped his hands comfortingly. He didn't even recognize that he felt either emotion. He only knew it was safe to speak now. "I could feel him," he managed quietly, but Severus only stared at him in confusion.

"Who?"

"Sirius," he supplied shakily. "I could feel his anger. It felt hot. It was melting the cave..." His voice trailed off as Ginny and Ron came into his line of vision behind Severus. Ron's freckles stood out across his cheeks and nose. Ginny's brown eyes were filled with worry.

Harry felt a slow flush creeping up his cheeks as he realized that his father had likely found Ginny in his bed, and since she was still here, Ron must have known she had been there as well. They hadn't done anything wrong, but that wouldn't matter to Ron...not in his current mood. But Ron didn't look angry; he looked almost as worried as Ginny did. He should be angry. All of them should be furious.

Severus had followed his son's gaze. "We need to return to our quarters. I will contact Poppy," he said quietly. Harry's eyes came back to him. He didn't acknowledge that Severus had spoken. His father shifted a little against the bed as though the position was uncomfortable. "We can go to the Hospital Wing if you would rather."

Harry shook his head, troubled that his father still held his shields close. Maybe it was just because Ron and Ginny were here. Or perhaps he'd been a bigger prat than even Ron had said he was. He was a little relieved though, when his father took his elbow, as gently as always and started to guide him upward. At least he was going to let him come back to their quarters.

He moved his legs around carefully, but he couldn't do much more than wobble as Severus helped him stand. His legs felt as if someone had just cast a Jelly-Legs Jinx at him. He felt himself sagging against his father's side; Severus used one of his strong arms to catch him before he could fall. His father held him up easily.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes brighter than they had been a moment ago. Harry frowned down at his legs, frustrated at his sudden inability to make them obey.

"Do you want me to summon Poppy up here, Severus?"

Harry turned his head sharply toward the voice. He hadn't realized Remus was here. The sudden movement sent a wave of disorientation through him. Before he could topple over, his father wrapped an arm securely around his ribs. Harry tensed, but his father retained his grip, carefully steering him back to sit on the bed.

"I'll get Poppy." Remus didn't wait for a response this time before heading down the stairs at a jog. Harry tried to still his jingling guilt as he watched his friend's retreating back.

"Did you find out why he wasn't at dinner?" he asked, ignoring the more pressing questions, as well as the unease he felt when he heard how reedy his voice sounded.

"Do you feel weak?" Severus asked, ignoring the question. Harry frowned while he shrugged.

"Not really. Dizzy," he explained. He was about to ask about Remus again, when Pomfrey came much too quickly through the open doorway, with Remus close behind. Taking in Harry and Severus, as well as Ginny and Ron, she turned first to Harry's friends.

"Both of you wait downstairs. Professor McGonagall came with me. She is dealing with your housemates," she informed them ominously.

Ron groaned. "What about Harry?" he asked mulishly. Poppy glared at him.

"Now," she ordered. It didn't stop Ron from muttering as he obeyed. Ginny looked about to say something, but Pomfrey ushered her out with an index finger pointed firmly at the doorway.

Remus moved with Pomfrey toward the bed and Harry followed his movements; he could feel the tightness in the muscles around his lips. Remus smiled gently at him, and Harry's gut swooped with renewed guilt; he had never seen Remus look so sad. He was about to blurt out a useless apology, but Pomfrey was pushing him downward, and had already begun clucking over him.

"You should have brought him to see me earlier, Severus," she scolded. "He's had enough time to rest." Harry glanced at his father; Severus didn't even react to her. He was staring too intently at his son. "How do you feel, Harry?" she asked as she ran her wand up and down his body.

"Tired," he answered automatically. He felt completely exhausted actually. Pomfrey's eyes flicked to him in surprise.

"He has been sleeping," Severus told her before she could ask. She frowned between them.

"What happened, exactly?" she inquired, sounding pinched.

"He didn't take his Dream Suppressive," Severus supplied, and Harry was surprised that he didn't sound at all irritated. "He had a nightmare, but neither I nor Ginny could rouse him. I had to enter his mind to bring him back to consciousness."

"What were you dreaming about, Harry?" she asked gently, finally bringing her wand to rest by her side. Harry swallowed, not wanting to answer. He didn't want to think of it. He couldn't think of a reasonable way to explain that it hadn't been a dream. Sirius had tried to kill him.

"Black."

Harry's eyes shot up to meet his father's again. They were narrowed in intense concentration.

"His godfather?" Pomfrey asked in surprise.

"He wanted to kill me," Harry whispered. The words hurt even more this time and he flinched as he heard Remus' sharply indrawn breath.

"It was a dream," Severus repeated, leaning in toward Harry. And Harry thought he didn't sound entirely convinced of it.

"It wasn't," Harry tried to tell him again, feeling much more frantic now. "He was the same...the same as when we were leaving...you must have seen him and then now...the same shadows, it was the same."

"Harry." His father's baritone shook him out of his babble. Harry stared in confusion into his father's obsidian eyes for a few seconds as he tried to remember what he'd been saying. Something about Sirius. Sirius hated him...that was it. Had probably hated him for months now--for killing him. And Harry had the insane thought that perhaps he hated him even more because he somehow knew that Severus Snape was his father.

"He hates me," Harry said certainly, and then everything went dark.

--

"Harry!"

Severus, panic overcoming him once more, let Harry's hands free and gripped his shoulders, shaking him as hard as he dared. He protested the strong fingers that wound themselves solidly around his upper arms, but the fingers were relentless steel and he was being pulled against his will away from his son.

"Severus!" Remus interrupted his struggles loudly. "Poppy needs to examine him." Severus stilled abruptly. His unease, as well as his discomfiture, made his movements sharp as he detached himself from Remus' hold. Remus moved with him back toward the bed, Severus feeling only mildly calmer. Harry's eyes were still closed, though he seemed to be breathing normally, if not more shallowly than he should have been.

"Has he had any other dizzy spells?" Poppy was asking him; her face was too grim. Severus shook his head.

"He did earlier...before we fell asleep."

The adults turned around. Ginny was in the doorway, her hands held tightly together. She stepped into the room.

"It was just like the morning after Voldemort died," she explained, focusing on Severus. "He was staring off into the distance, as though he was somewhere else and then he seemed confused for a few seconds after he was focused again."

"It's too much like what happened before we met Voldemort," Remus said. Poppy shook her head in frustration.

"How many times has this happened?" she demanded.

"Several...that I am aware of," Severus answered, furious with himself now for not paying more attention to his son. He'd been too caught up in his own pain. Too concerned about Harry's attitude to realize he had been so affected.

"You only told me of the one," Poppy accused him, and Severus could only nod. Instead of lecturing him as Severus would have expected, Poppy only sighed. "I'd like to examine him more fully in the Infirmary. His life signs are erratic," she said softly, making Severus' ears clog with a roaring heartbeat. "A more thorough diagnostic is in order, I believe."

--

It took a minute for Harry's eyes to focus in the dim light. He blinked a few times, moving his head back and forth against the pillow that was positioned perfectly under his head. There was a soft rustle of robes from beside him and Harry immediately shifted his head so that he could see his father as he stepped near. His dad rested his palm against his forehead; it felt toasty warm; Harry smiled a little.

"Feels nice," he murmured.

"Are you cold?"

Had Harry been more lucid, he would have been startled by the gentleness of his father's voice; even after he'd come back after Halloween, he hadn't sounded like that. But he was only marginally aware that Severus was really standing next to him. It felt rather like a pleasant dream. And you don't answer dreams, so he simply nestled his head more firmly in the pillow, enjoying the smell of cloves as a blanket was tugged up firmly around his shoulders, and tucked into place. Most definitely a dream. His father had never tucked him in before. Not like that.

"Dad?" He wondered if maybe his dream would answer him. Or perhaps it was more like whatever had happened with Sirius. That hadn't been a dream.

He relaxed as his father's rich voice replied, "Yes, Harry?" The voice was closer now, and he could feel his father's fingers pressing lightly against his chest. That felt nice as well.

Harry licked his lips. They felt awfully dry. But maybe that was because he had so many confessions to make.

"Here...drink a little of this," Severus suggested softly and Harry felt a straw pressed in between his lips. Harry took a long sip. The water was much too cold. It felt very like the cave where Sirius had tried to kill him. He shivered.

"Thanks," he told his dream-father. "I'm tired..." he confessed, "...but I have to tell you something..."

"Rest Harry," Severus commanded gently. Harry shook his head. It took more effort than he had. But he had to apologize. If only he could have told Sirius how sorry he was, perhaps he wouldn't hate him now. His father wasn't happy with him either. He'd even told him to sleep in the tower tonight...were they back home now...probably not. His father didn't want him here.

--

"I'm sorry I made you tell me to leave," Harry whispered, and Severus heart lurched against his ribs.

"Harry," he tried to interrupt, but even though Harry's voice was barely audible, he seemed determined to speak. Severus took Harry's hand gently in his own, squeezing it. His son smiled, and Severus felt his entire world sinking around him.

"I don't know what's been wrong with me, but Ron told me...I've been a wanker...worse than Draco." He smiled. "Ginny said it's not me..."

"Harry, you're sick," Severus interrupted painfully, unable to listen to his son's attempted apology, and wanting to say so much. Harry tilted his head a little so that he could look at his father.

"I feel like me," Harry said fuzzily, obviously losing his focus more quickly now. Just as Poppy had said he would, if he continued to deteriorate. "Remus hates me now as well...just like Sirius."

"Harry, Remus does not hate you," Severus told him, trying to keep his voice steady. "No one hates you." His chest swelled with pain at Harry's next strangled words.

"...I don't want you to hate me though. I didn't mean to be such a spoiled brat...I killed him...I had to take credit for it. I'm a murderer already." And again, Harry lost consciousness.

Poppy appeared on the other side of Harry's bed as Severus dragged in a ragged breath. "He's getting weaker," she said as she performed another pointless diagnostic. She still had no idea what was wrong with him--his life signs were fading swiftly.

"I can feel him being pulled away from me," Severus said quietly, though it made no sense. But he could feel Harry's conscious trickling away, just as it had in Sirius' ice cave. Poppy patted his hand, a gesture that in any other circumstance would have had him snarling at her. He found himself comforted by the touch.

"If you entered his mind again..." Remus suggested as he moved to stand beside Severus; his voice was filled with tears--he had obviously heard Harry's words. Some part deep inside Severus wished he could comfort the other man, but it would have hurt too much--he couldn't help Remus when he couldn't even feel anymore.

"It might only be a stopgap measure. We don't even know what could be affecting him this way," Poppy told him tentatively, still waving her wand ominously in the shadows where Harry lay. But her words were a lie. Severus heard what she wouldn't say.

We don't know why your son is dying.

But he would hold on to Harry for as long as he was allowed to, and then he would follow straightaway. So he didn't acknowledge her words, or Remus' hand, resting now on his shoulder, imparting a strength he had never thought he would feel again from another person.

"I will help you if you need it, Severus," Albus, who had arrived only minutes after they'd first brought Harry in, reassured him from next to Poppy. The offer was nothing more than the inane chattering of someone who didn't know what else to say. Severus didn't need help to reach his son's mind. And Albus knew it.

They watched as Severus tugged his son's eyes open. It wasn't necessary but it helped to focus him. The emerald that had been gifted to Harry by his mother, stared blankly up at him, empty and lifeless. A shudder built from deep within Severus' core. And then his storm was staring into an abyss.

The cave had taken Harry over.

The ice was everywhere, and the storm huddled again in the corner while Black screamed. His screams were louder, more deadly. The heat was intense, even against Severus' flame. And then there was laughter, an inhuman sound that Severus had only heard once as he stood in a circle of Death Eaters; the laughter was echoing around the fortress.

The flames wobbled with nausea. It couldn't be, but it was.

And Black kept coming through the filmy curtain, his icicle held high above his head as he dove toward a tiny black crevice--the laughter was coming from the empty space and with suddenly desperate movements, the flames were diving toward the hole. The storm was seeping into the crack. Just as he'd imagined.

It wasn't a dream.

Not a dream, not a dream, Black seemed to be chanting maniacally toward the crevice where Harry was being pulled.

And Severus couldn't stop it. His flames only melted a bigger space.

The laughter became more gleeful.

Harry's storm became a rushing wind, streaming toward the void.

"No," Severus breathed, his fingers gripping frantically in the warm blankets covering Harry's barely rising chest. He wouldn't let this happen.

Voldemort couldn't have his son

.