Nothing Hidden

In his dungeon office, Snape worked on copying out some potions that he intended to teach that year.

He had never done so before, considering it a waste of time, but now he was glad to have something to keep him busy. If he broke his concentration, his thoughts became too uncomfortable.

He refused to join Lupin and Dumbledore for dinner.

He got up to refill his inkwell, and his foot hit something on the floor.

He bent down and picked it up. It was the small flask, a few grains of pink powder still clinging to it's neck. He flung it down.

It was the damn candlelight that made his eyes burn! Perhaps he would retire early, take a sleep potion, and . . .

He had turned toward the door, and found himself staring at the last person he had expected to see at Hogwarts that night.

Harry had been standing in the doorway for some time, watching Snape silently.

He had arrived back at Hogwarts twenty minutes earlier, had evaded both Dumbledore and Lupin and left to Sirius the uncomfortable job of explaining, and had run down the dungeons staircase. His steps had slowed only as he walked down the dim corridor toward the only room where a light was visible.

He had stood there, and looked, and struggled with his conflicting thoughts.

Snape didn't want him! Hadn't Harry overheard him say so? He would just get the information he wanted, and get out as fast as he could. He could ignore the truth once he knew it! All he needed was to stop the tormenting thoughts in his head, and that would only happen once all his questions were finally answered.

There, Snape had seen him. It was now or never. He would just walk in, calmly, and demand to know the truth.

Harry stepped inside the room. Then something inside him exploded. He began to tremble, shaking with fury; his hands clenched, fingernails digging into his palms.

"What did that fool tell you?" Snape demanded, understanding without needing to be told that Harry knew or suspected the truth.

"No one told me!" Harry felt his voice explode out of him. "They didn't have to!"

Snape looked at him, stunned by his anger.

"I'm here for the truth! You will tell me!" his anger faltered under Snape's stare. "You will," he finished, softly.

"Why?" Snape's eyes pierced Harry's.

"Because I can't live with the lies anymore!"

"But you think you could live with the truth?" Snape laughed harshly, not knowing how the sound grated on Harry's raw nerves. As always, the stupid boy didn't understand what was good for him. He'd tell him what he'd told Dumbledore — that the truth was better buried.

"I could!"

"Liar," Snape laughed again. That foolish little . . .

Harry stepped closer to Snape, then couldn't stop. His anger exploded again.

"Tell me! JUST TELL ME!" he shouted.

Snape stepped back involuntarily.

"The truth is harder to live with than any lie you've been told!" he felt his own anger rising quickly.

"It's not up to you to decide!" Harry made another step toward him, so close now that Snape could see tiny beads of sweat on his forehead.

"It is. I'm the one who would have to live with the consequences!"

Harry fell back slightly, his eyes widening.

"Then it's true?" he gasped.

"I thought you said you knew," Snape scowled. What game was this?

"I knew . . . I didn't want to believe." Harry's hands dropped helplessly to his sides.

"And yet you think you can handle the whole truth?" Snape's mocking words cut into him.

"You . . . Made . . . Me . . . Hate . . . You . . ." Harry didn't meet Snape's eyes. His voice wavered. "All this time! I hated you!"

Snape didn't answer him. What could he say? He couldn't very well deny it.

He stayed silent too long.

"You don't want me," Harry's voice was low. A statement rather than a question.

"I did . . ." Snape began, but was interrupted.

"Then why did you leave me with the Muggles for ten years?"

"You would have rather lived with me?" Snape asked. He didn't believe it for a moment.

"Rather than the Dursleys? I would have!" Harry recalled bitterly everything that he had suffered before finally coming to Hogwarts, as well as the terrible summers.

"Now who conceals the truth!" Snape sneered. "I thought you said you hated me."

"I wouldn't have, if I had known!"

Maybe that was true, Snape thought. But he couldn't have taken the boy right after James and Lily Potter had died. It had been years before he had gained back the trust of enough people — mainly at Hogwarts — to have considered it. And he had gone to the Dursleys' residence then . . .

He recalled how he had stood outside the house that night, looking up at the dark windows, imagining coming to Dumbledore with his story. He had turned away, without a doubt that he was doing the right thing for everyone.

He wanted to explain . . .

Harry didn't give him the chance.

"I know the truth now. And I do . . ." his voice shook. "I hate you."

The words pierced Snape like a sword as he looked, momentarily stunned, into the boy's wrathful eyes.

Then Harry's face crumpled. He whirled around and ran for the door.

Snape tried to catch his arm, but too late.

Harry was almost at the door, almost away from the cold dungeon room where he had poured out his anger and pain and received only more pain in exchanged.

The door slammed in front of him. He pounded on it with his fists until his hands felt raw. Then he stood still, his eyes closed tightly, his shoulders shaking.

Behind him, Snape stood frozen.

The worst part of the secret he had concealed for over a decade was now out. There was very little truth left to tell. He wouldn't have bothered to hide it in the first place, if it didn't all lead back to the fact of the boy's paternity.

"Stop crying," he tried to make his voice take any tone other than the hard, sarcastic one it was used to. "I will tell you the truth, if that's what you want."

He realized how ridiculous it was, trying to bribe the boy into silence. He didn't know what else he could do with him. It was all very well to lock the door and not allow him to run to the comfort of Sirius' arms, but what now?

Harry had crumpled to the floor, refusing to face Snape.

"What more do you want?" Snape asked helplessly.

Harry looked up at last. His eyes met Snape's. Accusing, burning eyes. Sad, heartsick eyes.

"Ridiculous!" Snape scoffed. "What kind of father do you think I would make? You have him," he gestured angrily upward where he believed Sirius to be waiting to take Harry as soon as Harry returned to his senses.

Harry said nothing.

"Foolish boy! Is this what you want for yourself?" Snape gestured wildly around the dungeon office.

"I don't want to be despised," Harry said at last, pulling himself off the cold stone. "Open the door."

The lock clicked behind him. He opened it, but turned back to Snape.

"Just tell me one thing," he struggled to make his voice calm. "Why do you?"

"I never did," Snape shook his head sadly.

"The way you treated me, I don't believe it."

Snape looked at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"It was easier."

"Easier?" Harry demanded.

"Easier to believe I had made the right choice, if I could keep you at a distance."

He sighed and continued.

"You were nothing like I imagined you would be. At every turn I thought I could see what you would have been had I raised you."

Harry felt another stab of pain. Whose fault was that? he wondered angrily.

They stared at each other wordlessly. All that could be said, had been.

Harry looked at Snape, then at the light flooding down the staircase at the end of the corridor, and back again.

Upstairs he knew three people were waiting, three people whose love and acceptance he never need doubt. Two would support any decision he made. And one could take him away to where he could be happy . . . But only if he could forget . . .

Harry shut the door, and leaned heavily against it for support.

"Tell me the truth."