snape and skull

common ground

Harry met the professor's gaze through watery eyes, swallowing hard. Snape's face was a blur and he couldn't tell if the teacher was shocked or angry at finding him where he didn't belong. But there was no rule that said he had to attend the Halloween feast, was there? What was Snape doing here anyhow? How come he was here and not at the feast? Deciding to go on the offensive, and pretend he hadn't been caught by his teacher bawling his eyes out, Harry repeated, "Professor Snape! What are you doing in the library?"

Severus blinked. The last thing he expected was for Potter to question him. "I might ask you the same question, Potter. What I am doing here is no business of yours. What are you doing here, instead of celebrating with your little friends?"

"I . . .didn't feel much like celebrating." Harry admitted, figuring maybe if he told the tall professor something, Snape might leave him be.

Severus' eyes bored into the small boy. The young wizard reminded him painfully of Lily, with his green eyes and earnest gaze. The last time he had seen those eyes had been on a corpse. He suppressed an involuntary shudder. No, he would not think of that. Not now. Instead he focused upon her son, whom he was bound to protect, the son she had died to save. Despite what some might assume, he did not resent the boy for that. He would have expected nothing less from Lily, who had always protected what she loved best. Once, he had been what she loved best. Until he had foolishly followed a silver-tongued Lucius down a shadowy road, and lost her trust and her love forever. What he did resent the Potter brat for was reminding him of his lost love, and reawakening memories he had fought hard to keep locked away.

"Why not? The feast wasn't to your liking?" he asked, the hint of a sneer in his voice.

Harry shook his head. "No. And it shouldn't be to anyone's liking!" he exploded, suddenly sick and tired of hiding his misery. "Doesn't anyone remember what happened tonight? This is the night they died! The bastard killed my parents . . .I saw her die . . .and I can't stop remembering it. I can't stop . . .!" His breathing grew ragged and harsh and a sob escaped him despite his resolve not to cry. "She died for me . . .because of me . . .and they all expect me to be grateful for it! Grateful that I killed her!"

Severus was stunned. He had never thought the boy would have remembered something like that, as young as he was. But apparently he had, and worse blamed himself for her death. But that guilt was not his burden to carry. It was Severus'. "No, Potter. You did not kill her." He began emphatically.

"I did! And everyone knows it! It's all anyone ever talks about. It's what I'm famous for!" Harry cried, swiping at his eyes.

Snape thrust a large embroidered handkerchief at the boy. "Quit sniveling all over the parchment, Potter. Salt doesn't mix well with it."

Harry took the handkerchief and stared at it as if he'd never seen one before. "What?" Then he flushed. "I-I mean . . .right." Had Snape just made a joke? Surely not. He blotted his eyes then, but a defiant tear made its way down his face.

"Look at me," the professor ordered, his voice soft. He had to force himself to meet that tortured green gaze, which mirrored the one he saw in the looking glass around this time of the year. "You did not kill your mother. It was not your fault that the Dark Lord came hunting you. Your family was betrayed by their Secret Keeper. And by one who . . .inadvertently brought news of a prophecy he overheard . . .Your mother would never have stood by and allowed any harm to come to her child. That was not Lily's way. She . . .chose her own death, dying out of love, like many a mother has done before her. She would not want you to feel guilty."