Summoned

Chapter 24: Mind Games (Part 2: Pre-Visaged)

"Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery."

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

July 27, 1995, night (cont.)

Remus closed the book and sat in the chair wondering how long it was going to be before Severus happened to glance up and notice which - of all the scores of books on his shelves - Remus had chosen. As it turned out, he had almost no time to wait. Within half a minute, he heard Severus push his chair back from the desk and three long, heavy footsteps later, he was at Remus' side.

Silently, with surrender the only possible option, he held the book up and Severus snatched it from his hand. Remus didn't even turn from the fire: he didn't want to see what was on Snape's face.

He heard a drawer open and then slam shut. He assumed the book had just found a new lodging.

The scorch mark on the spine, he figured, had probably happened during the attack in the nursery at Godric's Hollow, the attack that left Lily and James dead, the house mostly destroyed, and Harry alive with a scar on his forehead.

He knew Hagrid had been sent to the house by Dumbledore to retrieve Harry. Had Severus gone there, too? Or worse.

"You weren't there - when it happened? Were you?" he asked, very quietly, still counting on the fact that Severus wanted him there tonight to help bear the burden of his soul.

He turned in his chair. The man's eyes darkened and there was a nearly insane look in them. "If I had been - I would not be here now." He focused on Remus. "I would have destroyed him, or he would have destroyed me. There would have been no other outcome."

Remus looked away. "This is why Dumbledore trusts you."

There was no answer for long enough that he finally looked back. There was death in Severus' eyes. Death and nothing else.

"You went there afterwards? How did you know where to go?"

Slowly, Severus' eyes focused on him. The look of death was replaced with a glimmering hatred. "The Dark Lord told Lucius Malfoy where he was going. I tortured the location out of Malfoy. Of course, I had to put a Memory Charm on him after that: I couldn't have the Dark Lord knowing what I'd done in case - " His voice faded and his eyes lost focus again. "- I was too late..."

Severus took a few breaths that rattled through the room, harsh and full of fluid, as if he were drowning. Then he focused on Remus.

"Anything else you want to know?" he asked, his voice hollow.

"Quite a lot, actually," Remus said, struggling to control his voice. "But I'd like to survive the night even more."

The look on Severus' face was one he'd never seen before. He couldn't, therefore, classify it easily. There was a hint of mischief, something vaguely reminiscent of the expression the schoolboy had had many times after he'd leveled a particularly clever jinx at James and Sirius. There was more than a hint of pain, predictable and not needing any further interpretation. And there was the unknown look, the look that, in anyone else, might have been a silent plea.

But for what? Guess right, and he'd get a mini-history of Severus Snape. Guess wrong and - maybe turning into a wolf in a few hours would seem pleasant in contrast.

"Why did You-Know-Who let Malfoy - I mean, in the cemetery - why?"

Again, a storm cloud passed across Severus' face, and Remus struggled against putting his hand on his wand in defense. "Because Lucius Malfoy was able to bring him delightful tidbits of information from inside the Ministry, while I brought him nothing. And arrived two hours too late the first time I went. The Dark Lord does not easily forgive."

He turned back to his papers, and Remus felt the wolf-heart within him beginning to pound a little more strongly. "Something you two have in common," he muttered, and realized, even as he said it, that he sounded like Sirius.

"You have no - idea," Snape growled quietly.

Remus swallowed a few times, choking down the very real fear that Severus had far more in store for him than just listening to snippets of his past. Which was bad enough

He got up from his chair and, well-aware that Severus was now watching his every move, he opened his trunk and pulled out both tonight's portion of the Wolfsbane Potion, and the Black family history book. He settled back into the chair, began drinking down the distasteful draught, and cracked the book open.

It promised to be monumentally boring.

Then a flame leapt up in the fireplace and within it the face of Dumbledore. Remus felt enormously grateful.

"Severus, are you available?" the Headmaster asked.

Snape sighed irritably. "I am grading papers, Headmaster."

"I'd like to see you in my office."

"I am far behind in -"

"They can wait. - Is that you, Remus?" he asked, noticing the man.

"Yes, I uh, I was -"

"Well, I'm glad to see you caught Severus' hints and came."

Oh? He risked a quick glance at Snape and saw a flush creep over his still-pale face.

"My office, Severus. As soon as you can, please." And the visage dissolved from the fire.

Severus spent a few seconds staring angrily at the fireplace, then he rose and headed for the door.

"If you'd like, I could help with the papers. I do know a little about grading them."

Severus stared at him for almost a minute, then headed back to his desk. He grabbed a stack of parchments and handed them to him. "First years' final exams. I trust you won't find them too taxing."

"I hope not. - You seemed to grade much more harshly than I did."

"Perhaps because I expect more of my students than you did," he snapped back. He turned to the door.

"Or maybe because you just hate teaching."

The Potions master hesitated, but neither turned nor responded. He simply left.

* * *

About three minutes after he'd made his request, Severus knocked on Dumbledore's door and pushed it open.

"You wished to see me, Headmaster," he said coolly. His eyes were still hollowed out, his hands were shaking.

"Yes, Severus, come in, have a seat."

The man entered and stood in the center of the antechamber. "Will this take long, Headmaster?" he asked. "The students' papers will not grade themselves."

Albus rose from his desk. "About an hour or so, I think. If you'll agree. Please, have a seat."

Severus looked at him warily. "I am busy," he insisted.

"Yes. Please, Severus, have a seat." He crossed the room, but Severus didn't move. "I've had an idea," Albus finally said, standing in front of him. "Would you please sit down!"

Finally, the man sat.

"Are you familiar with Legilimens Deletrius?" Albus asked, deciding against any further preliminaries.

Severus' eyes took on a haunted, dark glimmer. "I am."

"Have you practiced it?"

The Potions master's eye flickered away. "Many years ago."

Albus sat in the chair he'd been in when Minerva had been there, and leaned forward. "I think it might help you."

He waited. Severus looked away, and he waited some more.

"Have you ever - have you had it tried on you?"

After another few moments, Severus finally looked back. "When I was - as part of my training." He started to say something more, then closed his lips.

"If he Summons you again," Dumbledore said quietly, "how are you going to resist him? How are you going to hide the truth from him?"

"I am not -" he never finished the sentence.

He put his hand on Severus' and said, "If we can heal the pain, then we can work on the Occlumency again. You have to be able to resist him, Severus. You're the most powerful Occlumens I know, but right now - you couldn't resist Harry Potter!"

That brought a response. Severus leapt from the chair and stared at the fireplace. "I have papers to grade," he said, his voice thick.

"If Voldemort Summons you again, how are you going to resist him?" he repeated. "Severus, Legilimens Deletrius could help."

His Potions master whirled. "Another reason to attack my mind, Dumbledore?"

"Severus -"

"What do you want from me?" Severus stood before him, his hands balled into shaking fists, his scowling, wrinkled face red, his entire body quivering.

Remembering the twelve-year-old boy who had stood before him just this way nearly 25 years ago, Dumbledore stepped forward. "To survive your next encounter with Voldemort. Will you let me try?"

"I have papers to grade," he said. But his eyes were pleading.

Dumbledore nodded. "Later."

Severus stern gaze finally softened and he sank into the chair behind him. "Have you - ever done it?"

Albus smiled and sat in the chair across from him. "Yes."

"Recently?" Severus asked.

"Yes."

He looked so young, Albus thought. His hair fell over his face, long and scraggly and greasy and unkempt. He looked so empty...

"It is - exhausting work," Severus said quietly.

Albus smiled. "Let me worry about that." He put his hand out and touched Severus'. "Will you do it?"

He could hear Severus breathing, hard. "Now?"

Albus nodded.

The Potions master was gone: as far as Albus could see there was only Severus, his boy, and the pain that had to be healed. When he nodded, Albus smiled.

"Alright." He stood. "Come along." He started for his bedchamber. Severus held back.

"Headmaster?"

"You'll be sleeping when we're done," he reminded the man. "If it works, that is."

Severus eyed him warily. "We can do this - here," he said, staying in the chair.

Albus smiled. "I already tried this with Minerva. She fell off the chair! You're heavier than she is. I don't want to strain myself trying to catch you." He waited. "Severus. I won't hurt you. You know that."

Slowly, the man broke himself out of his own memories, his own fears, and followed Dumbledore into the bedchamber.

Neither of them spoke. Severus sat on the bed, staring into the darkness of the unlit room for several seconds. Then Albus touched his hand; he jerked and then laid back.

"What image would you like to use?" Albus asked. Severus' hands were resting across his stomach and Albus put his hand on top of them.

Severus stared at the ceiling. Then he shook his head.

"Alright," Albus said, deciding on his own image. "Try to relax."

Severus couldn't stop shaking. His hands twitched, his breath came harshly, raggedly. He stared at the ceiling, he stared at nothing, and still he couldn't stop shaking.

Dumbledore pulled his wand and summoned a Draught of Peace, but the moment his wand appeared, Severus shot upward and flailed his arm, a silent curse flying through the room and sending the Draught into a puddle against the far wall. "No!"

"Severus!"

The man stopped and gasped and looked at Dumbledore. "You'll fall! You will fall! From the tower..."

Dumbledore sighed. He didn't understand Severus' words, but he rejoined the goblet and tapped the edge to refill it with more Draught of Peace. "Drink this."

It took a few moments before he was obeyed. And while the man drank from the goblet, Albus felt his heart begin to break again. He would not lose this one!

"Ready?" he asked.

Severus looked at him. His hand clenched Albus', fear filled his eyes. "You don't know everything," he whispered.

"Nothing I learn will make any difference," he assured him. "Are you ready?"

"Tobias -"

He looked into Severus' eyes. "Is there an image you want to use?" he tried once more. There was no response. So Dumbledore selected an image and used the spell nonverbally: "Legilimens Deletrius..."

...He floated above Severus in the cemetery. Severus couldn't see him. He waited for the memories to become stronger, to see the outlines of Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy... But it wasn't that cemetery. It wasn't the Riddle graveyard.

It was a Potter's Field, and Severus was staring at the small square stone that marked the graves of his own parents...

...Then a cold, white stone, a white tomb... The castle ghosts were there, barely visible in the bright sunlight...

Minerva dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was absolutely genuine... Wouldn't hear a word against him!"

..."Avada Kedavra!"

...Falling, dropping, hitting the ground, the pain exploding in his chest, he couldn't breathe...

...His mother opened the window, her arm burning... It was so cold... She dangled him outside the open window... his sock fell off...

...He saw Dumbledore, blasted into the air. He hung for a moment beneath the shining skull, and then he fell...

"No!" Severus jerked and shut his eyes. "You will not die!" His hands clenched, but Dumbledore kept a tight hold on them. He waited for the reaction to pass.

"Of course I won't, Severus." The vision was like a nightmare, another terrible dream Severus harbored. "Let's try again," he said, his voice quiet and slow. He waited until the hands relaxed and thought the spell...

...Dumbledore floated above the room, watching...

... Tobias' belt flew through the air and sliced open a deep gash across Severus' thighs. The boy was nearly naked, his underpants the only protection against the whipping. Already, his arms and chest were covered with cuts and welts. He was screaming in fury at his father; he wasn't going to cower, to beg, to cringe.

He was cornered on his bed. Tobias' eyes were wild with drunken rage and he simply flailed the belt in the direction of his son over and over.

"Filth! Evil filth! Bastard!"

"I am a bastard!" he shouted boldly, choking back tears of rage and pain. "I'm not your son! I'm - aarrghh!" The belt caught the boy across his face. His hands flew to the cut just under his eyes...

Dumbledore pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around the boy, whispering, "Deletrius," until the pain was bearable again...

... But Tobias wouldn't stop. He wouldn't back off. Severus glowered and sank down onto his bed, his face covered with blood, his hands covered with blood, and as Tobias swung the belt again, Severus reached under his pillow and pulled out his wand...

"Avada -"

"Severus, no!" His mother was there, in the doorway. She distracted Tobias and the boy just long enough. She pulled her own wand and glared at the man.

"Get back, you bastard!"

Tobias had no sense: he swung the belt at her. It hit her arm and her wand flew out of her hand.

"Sectumsempra!" Severus cried out, waving his wand in arcs through the air, watching with gleaming eyes as he opened cut after cut on Tobias' body, just as the man had done to Severus with his belt. The man shrieked in agony and Eileen Snape dove for her wand. But before she could speak, Tobias lurched toward her, his own bloodied hands extended for her throat.

"Avada -" Severus yelled

"Kedavra!" Eileen and Severus screamed together.

The room was filled with a brilliant, green light. Tobias stood where he was for nearly three seconds, his eyes wide with astonishment, and then his body toppled backward onto the floor.

Dumbledore pulled off his cloak and wrapped it once more around the boy. "Deletrius. Deletrius..."

He held Severus' hands as the man sobbed quietly, then he laid his free hand over Severus' eyes and whispered, "Somnus!"

The command worked almost instantly. Severus' eyes closed, the weeping stopped, and within seconds Dumbledore saw his eyes moving beneath his lids as he dreamed.

Healing dreams, this time. Dreams in which a protective cloak wound its way around his pain and terror and subdued them. Dreams in which the fear and agony would be bearable: time and age would once again dull the sharp horror of those moments.

He would dream the memories back into the past, where they belonged; they would no longer haunt him as if they had just happened.

Dumbledore got up and went back to his office. The dream part of the sessions usually took about twenty minutes. He checked his clock and began working on papers he needed to complete for the coming school year.

Like Severus, he, too, had been distracted by other events this summer and had barely begun the tiresome work of approving class schedules and course requirements. Professor Sprout had submitted her new syllabi for approval. Professor Flitwick had given his final grades for the previous year, as well as his book and supply lists.

But Albus was disturbed and distracted by the visions at the beginning of his session with Severus: visions of his own death.

He wasn't concerned about death, exactly. But the pictures in Severus' mind were of a death he would not want: a death at the hands of the man whose soul he'd tried for more than twenty years to save.

Before he knew it, the time had passed and he sensed Severus waking in the other room. He put down his quill and went back to his bedchamber. Severus, who had been looking around half-frantically, trying to get his bearings, fixed his eyes on Dumbledore and struggled up.

"Well?" The Headmaster asked, sitting next to him on the side of the bed. "Ready for another?"

Severus sat on the edge of the bed, leaned forward and clasped his hands between his legs. He didn't say anything for almost a full minute. "I killed him."

It hadn't actually been as great a shock as Severus apparently thought it would be. There'd always been a question in his own mind, once he'd seen the pictures of Tobias Snape's body. The Office of Magical Law Enforcement had provided him with photos when he'd sued them so many years ago.

In the end, the bloody attack on Tobias Snape's body had been of no consequence to the case itself. Severus had been apprehended and treated like a criminal, an adult criminal, without having been arrested or even charged. He'd been left with hardened criminals overnight in one cell, then with dementors for four more days.

And his mother had pled to the crime.

So it didn't matter, really, if Severus, like Tom Riddle, had killed his own father. It really didn't matter, it wasn't important. Severus had killed, if his words had been the killing words, out of self-defense. Tom Riddle had killed out of greed and lust for power.

It didn't matter that they had both done the same thing.

Severus looked at him. "You defended me because you thought I was innocent."

"I defended you because I knew you were. - I still do. - You were twelve years old, you had no other defense, you did what you did to save your own life."

He looked away. "But my mother paid for it."

She deserved to, Dumbledore thought, but he didn't say that. Severus' feelings for his mother were terribly complicated and not at all the sort of thing he wanted to get into. Not now, at least.

"Severus." The man turned to him. "The memories belong in the past. Not the present. - Shall we try again?"

Reluctantly, Severus laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, his hands once again folded over his stomach, Dumbledore's hand lying on top. "Ready?"

Severus nodded and turned to look at him...

Legilimens Deletrius...

...He woke up screaming, and everyone in the dorm room started yelling...

... Dumbledore floated above the scene, his cloak draped over his arm, ready to cover the pain...

..."Snivellus! Shut up!"

"Snivellus is having another nightmare!"

"Hey, Snivellus, maybe you belong in Gryffindor with the other brave students!"

"Snape." It was Lucius, sitting on his bed. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oooh, Malfoy's got a pet!"

"Shut up!" He turned back to Severus. "Bad dreams?"

And then, before he understood what was happening, Malfoy stroked the hair off his face and whispered, "Don't worry about them. I'll take care of them..."

Severus shut his eyes and jerked and his hands clenched tightly and he cried out as if he were in pain. He gasped for breath and Dumbledore waited until he calmed back down. Severus' natural defenses kept coming into play.

Finally, he wiped a hand over his face and turned away. "No," he murmured. "No more."

"Severus, the more we do the better you'll be able to face -"

He turned and glared at Dumbledore. "You don't know everything! You don't know everything!"

"And nothing I find out is going to make any difference, Severus. I would think by now you'd know that."

"Why?" he demanded. There was a lot of pain in that one small word.

Dumbledore smiled. "You know why. - I couldn't help Tom Riddle. He could never understand love. But you can. - Now. Relax."

He waited, and slowly, the Potions master's hands lost their grip and he looked into Albus' eyes with what was as much trust as he could.

Within Dumbledore's mind, the nonverbal, Legilimens Deletrius...

...He looked down on the room...

.... Malfoy lay down next to the boy and held him, stroking his hair, whispering to him. Dumbledore floated next to the bed, waiting... But Lucius Malfoy seemed curiously gentle, not at all what Dumbledore had expected.

"It's alright, Snape, don't worry about them." Then the older boy wrapped his arm around the shaking child and pulled him closer, his hand stroking the boy's arm, his back, his face...

And then he saw where this was going and he tossed his cloak over Severus - "Deletrius," - and the scene dissolved...

... "I'll take custody of him from here," said an older man. Severus didn't know him, but there was something familiar about him.

"Name?" the guard asked, his quill hovering over the parchment before him.

"Malfoy. Abraxas Malfoy."

"Relationship?"

"Uncle. On his mother's side."

The guard scribbled the information...

... "My dad'll take care of you," Lucius said...

... Severus lay in his bed, crying silently after Malfoy had left. He heard the others laughing in their own beds. He was angry and humiliated and he hurt and didn't think he could ever look at anyone ever again...

"Deletrius."

... Arm burning, the cold... She dangled him outside the open window... his sock fell off...

"Deletrius."

...He put out the fire in the fireplace. He wanted to feel cold. He wanted to feel the damp mildew in the dungeon. He wanted the chill to seep into his bones, into his veins.

He wanted not to be alone tonight...

"Deletrius," Dumbledore whispered, laying his cloak over the shivering boy.

Severus shut his eyes and Dumbledore slid his hand down over them and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Somnus," he commanded.

The Potions master slept.

* * *

Dumbledore handed the two top parchments to Keeper and waited while he looked them over. "I thought that when the boy was released, it was into the custody of an uncle or some other relative." He looked up. "What happened to that person?"

"I have no idea."...

... "Malfoy. Abraxas Malfoy."

"Relationship?"

"Uncle. On his mother's side."...

Dumbledore couldn't concentrate on the papers in front of him. It was a very old, unanswered question that he'd put aside years ago. And now he had the answer to that question, but it only brought forth more questions.

Was Abraxas Malfoy related to Eileen Prince Snape? Dumbledore wondered. And whether he was or not, how had he learned that Severus was at Azkaban?

"Lucius said this was where You-Know-Who grew up. He said I belonged here..."

"How did Lucius know you were coming here?"

"He said his father supports the orphanage. He said his father heard them saying that I was going to come live here."

How had Abraxas Malfoy found Severus?

He had a feeling the answer would be very important.

***

The third session began as the other two had. Severus' barriers, natural and necessary, kept Dumbledore out at first. Then, submitting to the intrusion, Severus finally let him past the defenses...

...Legilimens Deletrius...

..."You bastard!" his father yelled. "Sick, weak, worm of a brat!" With each word, the man landed

another kick.

Dumbledore's cloak was right there, covering each attack, his whispered, "Deletrius," easing the pain, fading the memory, turning it back to the past...

...Severus curled up in a defensive ball. "What are they teaching you at that school for evil? How to bewitch your parents?" He landed a sharp, hard kick right between Severus' legs and the boy howled...

"Deletrius," and the cloak encircled him. The boy slept through the pain.

His mother opened the door, hours later. "Get my wand!"

He struggled to stand and couldn't. His leg wouldn't support his weight. He tried again, and she kicked him back down.

"Freak!" she screamed at him. "Half-blood freak! I don't care if you have to crawl! Just get my wand!"

"Deletrius..."

She had the wand. She aimed it at his nose and the pain went away. Then she aimed it at his chest. "Crucio!"

Dumbledore blocked the curse with his cloak. "Deletrius."

Severus looked away, gasping, choking back tears. Dumbledore sent him back to sleep.