Go With the Tide

With this out of the way, let the story begin. Chapter 4. *hits play*

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Snape looked over his shoulder to find, unsurprised, that Harry was not following him. He stopped at the infirmary entrance, and turned around. Poppy was holding Harry's hand to lead him out of the infirmary.

"No, Poppy".

"But, Severus--"

"Your protests to the Headmaster. Kindly leave Potter alone, and if you can't bear to watch, go away," he said dryly and the matron huffed and left altogether, no doubt to take up on Snape's advice and talk to Dumbledore.

Harry was left standing on his own in the middle of the aisle formed by the beds, head bent downwards, eyelashes wet and lips pursed together tightly in a thin line. His hands were balled into fists, and he was bracing. But what Snape could feel radiating from the boy was an immense fear-- fear of the unknown. At the moment, Harry Potter was standing in the middle of pitch black chaos with no way to claw his way to safety.

"One foot in front of the other, Potter. I am sure you know how to walk, still," Snape said but this time he made his voice much softer, less intimidating. Harry snorted.

"I would hate to disappoint you by stumbling, Professor". Harry's voice dripped with sarcasm equaling Snape's. It was obvious what he was saying; he just did not trust the Potions Master, and after the past week he was far too strained to even care to restrain his impulse to voice that opinion.

"There is no way to disappoint me, Potter-- I expect you to under perform anyway. Now walk toward the sound of my voice. There are no obstacles ahead of you".

Harry clenched his teeth, and spread one hand in front of him, slightly bent, and another to the side. Snape appreciated the boy's caution. Shuffling his feet, slowly, gradually, Harry advanced a few paces, and then stopped. Snape clicked his tongue impatiently.

"Well? You still aren't there."

Harry swallowed tensely as he started walking in that awkward elderly fashion again, his hand groping forward. He needed to hear Snape's voice, like a beacon in midnight-- even if that beacon was not entirely welcome. But just as he was able now to voice his frustration, he was completely muted when it came to his wishes.

The boy jumped when suddenly another gripped his hand, firmly and soundly. It both startled and relieved him.

"You made it, Potter." Snape sneered as if he found it amusing that he managed. "Now all you have to do is follow me to your new room. You will follow the sound of my footsteps or my voice. There are no unusual obstacles, and I will warn you of stairs." The Potions Master fired off instructions as he started to walk into the aisle already. Harry wanted to follow, for if the rejecting voice of Severus Snape faded, then Harry would be stranded in the black desert of sightlessness with no way of orientation. He took a step out of the familiar, sterile infirmary air.

Snape was so satisfied that Potter would follow him just like he did in the infirmary, that he brusquely walked a few steps loudly into the aisle. He turned and waited for the boy to follow. To his surprise, the moment Harry stepped out of the infirmary; he froze like he was caught in headlights. He swallowed, his hands swaying haphazardly around him, and he blinked many times over.

"Over here, Potter. Walk towards me." Snape called out, frowning. The boy had not reacted this way while still in the infirmary. Harry seemed to attempt one shuffling, shaky step, but then he pulled his foot back and shook his head quickly, erratically.

"I- I can't. I can't do this."

"Of course you can, idiot boy! Follow my voice. There is nothing but air in this aisle!"

"I ... where are you?"

"To your left, hear my voice, now one foot--"

"I CAN'T DO THIS! Get away from me! I want to sit! I can't walk alone! I need help! HELP!" Harry back stepped, his eyes wide, his head tilted upwards as if being underwater and trying to reach the surface.

Snape growled and advanced, and Harry tried to jerkily back step even more. His heel caught in the doorway's side and he stumbled, falling square on his behind, where he stayed trembling and continuing to made hacking sounds with his breathing.

When Snape bent to pick the boy up, fuming with irritation with what in his opinion was an uncalled for antic, Harry flinched. The sharp change in air pressure made his body react in terror, his hands flying upwards to protect his head. It had always been in the darkness that he was being beaten, and it was always impossible to see where the blow would land.

Snape was startled. I pushed too hard. The cowering image of the panicky boy, his eyes unseeing but haunted with recent memories reminded him the cupboard, the blood, the smell... and he took action. Firmly yet gently, he caught the boy's wrists and took them down from the level of his face.

"Never believe that I would hit a child, Potter-- not even you," he said in a cold voice. He hadn't meant to make it cold, not was the coldness directed at Potter for once. But still the boy shuddered and flinched. Snape clicked his tongue irritably, but for the first time, he felt compassion. It was similar to the compassion he felt for victims he could not help, for those that were left behind that he could not support.

But at the moment there was no Voldemort or any of his lackeys around. There was no reason not to help the trembling, broken child before him.

Except that he was Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived.

He snorted as he picked up Harry, who gasped in surprise as well as the sensation of being lifted off the ground in a gentle, caring fashion rather than like a sack of potatoes only to be re-dropped.

"What are you going to do to me?," he asked timidly. Snape almost laughed.

"Merlin boy-- how could you ever face Voldemort with that rabbit heart you have? You refuse to walk. Much as I would love to leave you trembling on the floor like discarded jelly, I do believe that is out of the question. So I am taking you to your room," he said calmly.

Harry was silent during the time Snape carried him to his room. Snape did not attempt to break the silence. He was far too preoccupied with thoughts. He had almost overdone it today. He should have known better. He should have been more methodical. You don't just throw all the ingredients of a potion in and expect it not to blow up. Stupid, stupid man. Method. He had to even out the beginning, and press Potter on later.

Harry felt the change in the air when they entered the room. It was warmer and welcoming, permeated with a warm, subtle honeycomb and sugary smell. The small wafts of warm current urged Harry to relax; and perhaps he would once the stern Potions Master set him down (which he did promptly). His hands gently made him face more towards the right and held him there fast.

"We are now standing at the entrance of your room. There is a large window to your right. The bed is right ahead of you and on the left are a desk and chair, and the door to the bathroom. Did you get all that or do I need to repeat myself?," the Potions Master's voice was more tolerant than before, although it was guarded and ready to instantly become aggressive. Harry nodded quickly. There was a pregnant pause, and the hands detached themselves from Harry's shoulders. Harry started to feel the same uncertainty creeping into him now that nobody sighted was controlling his orientation.

"You will probably have noticed that you don't yet have your wand," stated Snape's voice from behind him. Harry hadn't even looked for the thing until now. Snape continued, "I am keeping it for the time being. I will give it back to you when you manage to orient yourself and walk in this room unheeded, and when you learn to walk towards places on the basis of sound. You must learn to be dependent only on your own self, and on nothing that can be taken away from you."

Harry swallowed, feelings of worthlessness overwhelming him now that the enormity of what he had to achieve sank in. He would have to relearn everything, even the tiniest little things, and yet anyone with sight, even if less than perfect would be superior to him.

"What is the use now? There is nothing I can do. There is nothing I knew how to do that I can do now. I wouldn't be able to point my wand straight, let alone face anything and anyone."

Now, Snape felt himself in front of a crossroads. What he would answer the boy was of terrible importance, his instinct told him. How much of his own ambition of what he could train Harry to do was it prudent to reveal without risk of overwhelming the boy, making him react like he had only minutes before?

He turned Harry to face him. The green eyes stared through some point in his chest, and then his forehead as Snape lowered in front of the boy. He placed Harry's hand on his shoulder so that he would know that he was currently on the same level as him. Harry blinked, his expression mute, unsure what to expect.

"Listen to me, Potter. I will only say this once, so you'd better pay attention. At the moment, you are correct; there is nothing you can do of what you used to, and you are weak and vulnerable to anyone the way you are," he started in a neutral, controlled voice. Regarding Snape, that tone was the most positive it had ever been when directed to Harry Potter, or anyone for that matter. Harry's shoulders slumped in stoic acceptance of his fate. Snape could see the boy ready to crumble into the bottomless pit. Snape bit his lip. Now for the uplift, the lifeline on which the boy would grasp.

"However, this is only very, -very- temporary situation if you so wish it," he said in a low tone, almost whispering voice that stroked at Harry's ears and promised unreachable dreams. "There are ways in which you can become as competent as you were before in all facets of your life; with work and diligence, you can rise above this. Do not doubt my words," he said seeing the shadow of disbelief wash over the boy's face, "because if I, Severus Snape, Potions Master and dedicated nemesis of Harry Potter find it worthwhile to invest my time and energy in a now-blind Harry Potter, then I must have seen something there, if not anything," he set a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder for fractions of a second, then got up again. Harry's expression was impassive. It held so many emotions that Snape was unable to read any single one of them.

Snape retreated towards the door again, then paused and said in his usual, 'take dictation' tone, "Everything in this room is enchanted to make a ringing sound. When you want to move around in the room, you just say clearly 'Orei' and the place or item you wish to go to, and it will ring until you are there. Try it once, to make sure it works."

There was a pause again, and Snape was afraid that Harry would not respond and would continue standing there, but after the longest, the boy about turned to face the inside of the room again, and said in a shaky voice, "Orei Bed."

The slight chime sound gently sounded. Snape watched as Harry walked in his awkward, shuffling manner with hands outstretched towards the sound. It took him three minutes approximately to home in on the bed, but he went there. Snape nodded when the chime stopped and about turned to go.

"Professor?" Harry's voice was calmer, yet still overflowing with turbulent emotions.

"Yes?"

"What colour is my room?," he asked quickly and rather quietly, to avoid the breaking of his voice from being entirely obvious. Snape smirked.

"Red and Gold, Potter. Red and gold."