I Did Not Understand

Dumbledore watched as Remus and Draco returned from their trip to Hogsmeade, the two leaning against each other in an attempt to stay upright, only partially succeeding. The headmaster's blue eyes were dulled by sorrow as he turned away from the stairs where he stood, returning to the chill of his office, the fire allowed to go out after they had drawn the body from the lake - was it really only a week ago?

He crumpled into his chair, the weight of his years sitting visibly on his shoulders, in the deeply engraved lines of his face, the sudden and unexpected sense of fragility hanging about him like a shroud. Even more than the near loss of Harry, of the hero he'd helped to guide, the loss of the one of those he thought he'd saved had hurt him deeply.

Tears rolled down his face, a glimmer of light hidden by the seams of his face. He reached up to pull of his spectacles, wiping them with the end of his sleeve - a habit from his younger years he had never lost. He'd always thought he'd saved the young man who'd been brought to him, his face streaked with the remains of tears, his wrists bearing the evidence of his grief eighteen years ago. Thought, in his arrogance, that he'd made him see that life was worth living, when he'd only made him bury the pain, delayed the inevitable.

What had he done wrong? Why had he lost that one student, that one frightened and lost young man? Where had he gone wrong? The questions each impacted on his soul, tearing gouges out to bleed next to those that had healed over the years, the pain of failure perhaps strongest in those who never entertained the idea they would fail, that they could be wrong before. If only he'd done more, if he'd watched him closer, he'd have seen the signs in time to stop it!

~~~ ~~~

He stepped into the hospital wing, meeting Poppy's worried eyes as she sat next to the bed of the person he'd come to see. They'd found Severus Snape sprawled on his sister's grave with his arms slit open from wrist to elbow - barely in time to save his life. Now he slept, exhausted and pale, as Dumbledore looked down at him. He'd only graduated a year before, and he'd heard what the young man had done.

"Will he live, Poppy?" His voice was quiet, but loud enough for the medi-witch to hear him. She didn't speak, only nodded, though he could see the worry that remained.

"He meant to die, Albus, and even though he will live, I do not know that he will be entirely sane again. That girl was all that kept him stable." She had known both Severus and Christina since they were young, their mother one of her dear friends. "Was this really for the best, Albus?"

"We need him, Poppy. In time, he will recover, but we need him." He kept an eye on the still figure on the bed. He had the oddest sensation he was being watched by the boy, though there were no signs he was awake at all. "Everything will be fine."

~~~ ~~~

But it wasn't fine. Dumbledore stood, staring out the window down at the lake they'd found Severus floating in only a week ago. Why? What did I do wrong that you were lost? Where did I lose you, Severus? Or did I never succeed at all? Were you just waiting for an easy out?

Silent tears rolled down his face as he watched the moon rising over the water, a waning cresent that glittered with a bitterly cruel light in the spring sky. As it had risen over the school the night they'd forced Severus to choose life over death, no matter his unmade protest. As it had for years since, as the man withdrew more and more from life, a cold and bitter shell of what he could have been. If only he had been able to find something, someone to draw him out, to save Severus from himself...

"Albus." Minerva stood in the doorway behind him, and he acknowledged her presence with a simple raised hand. "The new potions professor is here to speak with you."

He turned, meeting her sad eyes as she stepped aside, allowing the petit figure of Joan St. Martin into the office. The Slytherin alumni met his eyes with darkly cold ones. She'd not been seen since Christina Snape had died in 1979, and he had been surprised when she agreed to come out of her self-imposed exile to teach on such short notice.

"He finally is gone?" Her voice was a thread of sound, dark as her eyes, as painfully thin as her frame. Her expression didn't change when he nodded, wondering at her question for only a moment. "I am amazed you kept him around this long. I had expected that letter many years ago."

Dumbledore frowned, stepping away from the window to sit behind his desk once more. "You were expecting that letter, Joan?"

She laughed, a sound that was bitter and held nothing of amusement. "For a very long time, Albus." She held his blue eyes with her grey ones - a grey nearly black, leaning forward as she continued to speak. "I knew Severus better than you ever could. Nothing meant more to him than Christina. Not even had he found a lover would she have meant as much as his sister to him. Her death signalled the end of his life - you merely forced him into a twilight state for those many years you congradulated yourself on saving his life." She spat out the words with a venom he had not expected, before drawing back, the vibrancy that came with her anger fading, leaving her looking frail and tiny once more. "My apologies, Albus. I meant merely to apologize for arriving later than I had informed you I would. I shall need to have a place to sleep for the night, so that I am not the monster those children may well be expecting."

Dumbledore nodded, shaken by what he had seen just now. "Minerva can show you to temporary rooms. I'm afraid the rooms that come with the position have not yet been cleaned out."

Joan nodded. "Of course. Until morning, Albus." She trailed out after Minerva, looking more like a chastened student than a professor as she vanished down the stairs. He watched her until the last strand of her once raven-black hair fllickered out of sight around the curve, wondering what she had meant with her words.

~~~ ~~~

At breakfast, Dumbledore watched as Joan came in, her silvery head bent close to Remus's, the two apparently deep in conversation. They parted at the head table, Joan's glance passing briefly over him as she made her way to the seat that had been occupied for so long by Severus. Remus met her eyes once more as she took the seat, a slight hesitation the only sign she was uncomfortable at all. The werewolf took a seat next to Ginny Weasley, the young Gryffindor glancing curiously up at Joan.

He didn't truely eat, merely pushing his food around his plate, as he hadn't done since he was a child. So many of his old habits came back to haunt him as he struggled with what had gone wrong. His blue eyes clouded with sorrow once more, and he was surprised to hear a hiss in his ear of, "Pull yourself together, old man! You can't fall apart in front of the students." He looked over at Joan, her eyes spitting sparks, her wand pointed at him under the table to carry the spell - one he'd not seen used in decades.

"Oh, wipe that look of surprise off your face, Albus. I am not a fool, nor am I stupid. I am not one of your bedamned Gryffindors, after all. Known for stupidity, bravery, and bull-headed self-rightousness. You couldn't have saved Severus, no matter what you did. Get over yourself and your inflated sense of self-importance!" Her tone was acid, cutting to the bone, and deeper.

He carefully arranged his expression, though under it, he felt a great deal of shock, and no small amount of anger. Not for her comment about his former house, but the comment he could have done nothing. If he'd done better, if he'd seen the signs sooner, he should have been able to save him. As he should have been able to save Sirius. So many lost to his oversight, to his over-weening pride in his perfect plans.

There was a sigh from Joan. "You're not the master of expression and body language you once were, Albus. What happened? Too many failures too close together sap your ability to hide your shame?" The conversational tone made the words all the more biting. "You aren't hiding your anger at being told you aren't as omniscent as you think you are very well." She shook her head, eating rapidly, and with far more appetite than her appearence would suggest. She didn't say anything more before she left, vanishing into the dungeons to begin her first day of teaching.

Dumbledore wondered if perhaps he had made the right decision in asking Joan to come to teach at Hogwarts. She was as excellent Potions Mistress, yes, but she had been out of touch with the wizarding world for most of two decades. And with her friendship with both Severus and Christina Snape, would she hold up under the grief she had to be feeling?

He frowned, leaving his breakfast uneaten as he returned to his office, thinking over what he might do to help her. Perhaps he could ask Remus to stay a bit longer, and talk to her. The werewolf certainly appeared to be on good terms with her. He smiled, for the first time since they'd pulled the body from the lake, and called a house elf. He had a plan, and he was sure that this time, he'd get everything right.