Go With the Tide

*hits play*

________________

Snape muttered 'cheese cake parfait' and swooped past the gargoyle and into Dumbledores' office.

"Albus, this is ridiculous."
"What is, Severus? Do sit down," the headmaster's eyes twinkled and offered the disgruntled man a seat. Snape sat down at the very edge of it. Before he had a chance to speak, Dumbledore asked cheerfully: "Lemon drop?"

"Merlin, no, Albus! Look, the boy is not ready."

"Of course he is, Sev-"

"You are not LISTENING! The boy is not ready for me. He needs things that I cannot offer him, but he must have."

"And what might those be?" Albus blew on his tea calmly.

"Support, Albus! Someone with the tolerance for the boy's irritating sniffling and self-pity! Someone that will not want to wrap his fingers around his neck and snap it every time he panics at the face of the unknown. I am not that man, Albus!" Severus was leaning forward, a deep crease between the heavy dark eyebrows that cast heavy shadows on the already abysmal eyes of the potions master. It was an eerie glance, engaging and inescapable as a black hole to a beam of light. Albus smiled faintly, eyes challenging and yet accepting in the same time.

"You are telling me you need help, Severus?"

Snape sat back in the chair and his jaw clenched, as well as his fingers around the teacup he had previously refused. He glared at the headmaster that had already had the superiority of someone that had won. Did he admit his weakness to the ageing wizard, and receive some relief of the task that was not ominously weighing on his shoulders, or did he proudly refuse it with one of his coldest sneers and probably destroy the boy more effectively than Voldemort himself?

Snape sneered. Coldly. "It is not I that need help, Albus. It is the boy that needs it badly, from more than one person. Preferably from someone more touchy-feely, it's less effective in getting work done."

Dumbledore chuckled under his beard at the desperate way Snape was trying to keep both his dignity and attain his much-needed help. He decided to let Snape believe that he did not see through his mannerism.

"That is fortunate then, and it solves the problem of finding a new DADA professor," he said cheerfully again, watching amusedly Snape's visage shift from guardedness to instant relief to great horror as he realized.

"Albus, not the--"

The door opening cut him off, and a relatively disheveled, pale, red-rimmed and distraught Remus Lupin entered. Silence reigned as the three wizards looked at each other. Remus was trembling.

"Tell me it is not true, Headmaster...," he asked in a hushed, shocked voice.

Snape snorted.

"Unfortunately Lupin, the boy truly is as blind as a bat. But hey, that's what got you back here," he added offhandedly, glaring murder at Dumbledore that had made him go through the whole process of asking for help when already Lupin had been called.

Remus' face hardened at the blow of Snape's chilly words and made a step as if to attack the sneering Potions Master, but then restrained him self and ran a hand through his hair. He chose to ignore Snape, much to the formers' irritation. Instead he turned to the headmaster.

"I will do whatever it takes to help, of course," he said in the same hushed and hurt voice.

"Thank you Remus. I knew you would. Harry's new educational and adjustment needs have been assigned to Severus here, who will teach him. He will tell you what sort of assistance he needs from you". Dumbledore said, phrasing his words carefully so that both wizards on the other side of his desk would not rebel to the idea of collaboration.

Lupins' jaw dropped in surprise, and in his face the obvious question of 'Why Snape?' was drawn. Snape smirked to himself in grim amusement as he got up, and dusted imaginary crumbs from his robe.

"If you are done staring like the village idiot, Lupin, follow me," he said haughtily and walked outside with the stance of a king. He had already walked through half the hall when Remus caught up to him. What he said with the headmaster Snape did not know, but he could imagine. It amused and gratified him, that he was still preferred for the task over Lupin who had been a far more obvious choice for the boy's rehabilitation. It was a good part of the reason why he would work with the werewolf again, and brew his Wolfsbane all over again, and tolerate him for yet another school year.

Lupin was going to listen to him, and he was capable of offering what he had trouble finding in his heart.

"The situation is as follows, Lupin: Potter is blind. The only thing he can see is darkness. There is no hope of ever regaining back his sight. What we have to do here is train him and strengthen him so that he will still be able to face Voldemort when the time comes".

Lupin breathed.

"How was he blinded, Severus?"

Something in the shorter wizard's words made Severus side look at him, and he snorted.

"Much as I would have craved the honour, Potter does not owe his sightlessness to anything I have done. It was done the muggle, violent way."

Lupin gasped.

"The Dursleys'? ...But how? How could they?"

Snape's face was stony and grim as he muttered in a way that chilled Remus to the bone and made his heart ache, and not just for Harry:

"It is not difficult to vent your frustration on a helpless, defenseless child, especially when you are his guardian."

Remus swallowed and asked after a pause.

"How is he faring?"

It was now Snape's turn to sigh.

"He is capable of adjusting with such speed that surprises even me. He can already react to changes in air pressure, and he was clever enough to use wandless magic to find his clothes. He can go a very long way in very little time."

Remus stared at the hard profile of the Potions Master, the slight fluctuations of the man's voice, the way he phrased things, making him faintly, very faintly see why perhaps Dumbledore had chosen that socially misadjusted bat for Harry. He asked gently.

"...But?"

"But he is afraid. He is afraid of everything and everyone, and harsh words or taunting will not effectively get it out of him, not with the time limits that we have. He has to be well trained by September". Snape said in a matter-of-fact, unemotional, formal voice. He took in a breath. "He needs to be convinced that this is something within his grasp, Lupin. I dare say you can teach him that".

"I'll try, Severus".

Snape rounded up on Remus suddenly, his eyes blazing dark fire.

"You will not just 'try', Lupin. It is not just the boy's life that is at stake here-- it is the fate of the whole wizarding world. I will not have my painstaking work, my risk taking go out the window because a drunkard smashed mirrors and windows with the Golden Boys' head, understand?"

The tirade did not all go to waste, but Remus was already steeling himself for seeing Harry, and paid little attention to the gist of the potions master's lecture. He passed his hand over his face and through his hair again. Snape backed off and said with a hint of disgust.

"Before you go to his room, wipe that ridiculously miserable expression from your face-- and don't let Potter hear despair in your voice. Merlin knows he is already wallowing in enough of it. Make sure he's ready in two days. That's the most I can give you."

Remus nodded. As he took a deep breath, Snape directed him to where Harry's rooms were.

Harry was sitting in his bed, curled up like a cat in what he felt was a warm patch of sunlight falling, no doubt, through the window. He indifferently stroked the coverlet, feeling the velvety, slightly patterned bedcover. He tensed and paused, receiving information from his fingers he never anticipated.

There was a depression in the weaving of the fabric, like a road through a forest of fuzziness.

He could feel the harder wool streaming ahead of him like a highway and his heart picked up beats. His fingers eagerly traced the weaving lines, trying to discern the pattern that surely must be there. His whole consciousness went at the tiny bit of skin at the very tip of his fingers, traveling the roller coaster ride of spirals, wavy lines, circles intertwining. Discerning the pattern became suddenly more important a task than defeating Voldemort himself. Swallowing, he very carefully slid off the bed so his knees would be on the floor and all of the bed surface would be free for the perusal of his fingers.

Hungrily, quickly, his fingertips laid out for him a whole network of lines and spheres and spirals, as if a golden line was tracing them in the eternal darkness surrounding him. To Harry, this was true, pure magic. He watched with the eyes of his mind as his fingers told him what they were seeing, and he smiled thinly, uncertainly, upon completing the whole pattern. Had he really guessed right? Had he really managed to discover something on his own?

He jumped at the faint sound of the door sweeping across the carpet. What would Snape say, seeing him kneeling against the bed like this, playing with a cover?

"Oh, Harry...!"

It was a very different, light-years more loving voice than Snape's, and it poured soothing warmness in a very cold, barren place in his soul. He ran to the voice, and hugged the warm, soft body. He smiled; tearing up in release feeling the protecting hands close around him and keep him safe, no matter what. Everything seemed better now-- even the blackness that he would now live in did not seem so morbid. He felt Remus' hands brush over his face, cupping it gently. He shivered in fear. What would he hear now? What expression was the DADA professor wearing now?

Harry had no hope of knowing unless he spoke. He said timidly, in a hoarse voice.

"...Remus?"

"You have grown so nicely, Harry, I am so proud". Remus' warm voice uplifted his heart and he smiled, hugging the older wizard once more and saying with a biting voice.

"I... you know I... I can't see you, Remus, --"

"You will be able to, Harry, with better vision than many people will ever hope of having." Remus' hands were stroking his hair soothingly. This was more like it. This actually made him feel a little less desperate, a little less suicidal.

And then it hit him and he gasped. He felt Remus tense in concern.

"Harry?"

"Did... did I just... run to you?"

Harry thought he could almost picture the smile that would go with that voice.

"That you did, Harry. You followed my voice?"

Harry didn't answer. He needed to double-check, and double-check right now.

"Is... Is the pattern on my bedcover a pot of lilies and daisies?"

Remus did not know whether to weep or laugh or marvel at the fountain of strength just a little show of acceptance, of love could produce in the boy.

"That it is, Harry. Right on."

Harry smiled even more and hugged Remus tightly again.

Perhaps he could do this.