Always - Chapter 3 - The House at Spinner's End

-3-

The House at Spinner’s End

Harry arrived at Snape’s apartment and knocked lightly on the door. Snape opened it, looking very imposing as he always did, but there was some light in his eyes now. “Potter.”

“Professor,” said Harry, showing courtesy in his voice and manners towards Snape. “Might I come in?”

Snape nodded. “Please. Did your day go well?” he asked, moving to the fireplace and gazing at the flames.

“Yes, sir. And, from what I’ve heard,” said Harry with a tinge of amusement in his voice, “yours did as well.”

Snape turned back to Harry, his face still as impassive as ever, but his eyes carrying a myriad of emotion. Harry was getting much better at reading the looks and brow movements. Snape was a very subtle, solitary man, but Harry was determined that he should not be alone any longer. “Potions and Defence .... you’re a brave man, professor. Then again, you did deceive one of the greatest wizards of all time.” Harry came to stand beside Snape. “A terrible, apathetic man, to be sure. It would be interesting to know how he might have turned out had someone shown him love.”

Snape gazed down at Harry. “Your mother made my time here as a student bearable until our fifth year. That’s when I called her a mudblood.

“I want you to understand some things about me, Potter, and in order to do so, we’re going to take a little trip.”

“Of course, Professor.”

Snape led Harry down through the halls and out into the main courtyard. Though the grounds had been repaired and the wooden bridge rebuilt, there was still a solemness about the place that made Harry shiver a bit. Snape put a hand on Harry’s arm, and before Harry realized it, he was flying, Snape as if like smoke, his arms holding Harry tightly. They flew for a time until they landed before a rather dismal, shabby house in a very dismal, shabby neighborhood, in an extremely dismal, shabby town. Snape led Harry in through the front door.

The hallways were very dark, even with lamps burning along their lengths. There were no portraits on the walls, or side tables. In fact, it looked completely derelict and had a shabby air of neglect. Harry followed Snape into the dingy sitting room, the latter lighting a fire in the fireplace with a flick of his wand. The plaster was coming off the walls, there were soot stains around the fireplace and the furnishings were threadbare and tattered.

“Excuse me, Professor, but where are we?”

“This is the house in which I was a child, and though I own it, I cannot call it my home because it never was. My father was a particularly brutal man and my mother wasn’t much better. I spent most of my time away from here as I could, wandering the parks, or the woods, or anywhere I could to get out of the house.

“In a grassy meadow, as I was hiding within the gnarled roots of a tree, I heard one young girl call her sister a freak. A freak, for making a flower grow from a seed. As quiet and shy as I had been, for the first time, I met another who was different from those around us. I spent as much time with her as I could, showing her things that I had learned after stumbling upon my mother’s wand and books. She was the first person to show me any sense of kindness, and I fell in love with her. I was a child, but I knew that what I felt toward her, and from her, was completely different than anything I had ever known before.”

“My mum and Aunt Petunia,” Harry said softly.

“Yes. I was very excited when I got my letter to Hogwarts, and Lily was excited too. Her sister was envious and resentful that Lily was being praised and she was plain, magic-less Petunia. As I understand it, Petunia sent a letter to Dumbledore, requesting to attend Hogwarts as well, but without magic, she received a kind rejection letter, explaining what Hogwarts was and why she couldn’t attend. It made her even more jealous. Black and your father didn’t like me much when we’d ridden the train to Hogwarts, but after being sorted into Slytherin house, it didn’t take long for James Potter to decide upon me as a perfect target to bully. I was awkward, studious, socially inept, and before long, I was ugly. My hair was oily, my skin pale, my body spindly, my eyes so dark they look black, and of course, there was the gift of my father’s nose. Why wouldn’t handsome James Potter and Sirius Black pick on the ugly duckling?

“Your father took great pleasure in torturing me, and the memory you saw was of my very worst day – the day I lost the friendship of your mother by calling her a mudblood. God knows I wish I could take it back. I was ashamed and embarrassed, having been disarmed, immobilised, turned upside down and my trousers pulled back to my ankles before a good deal of the students.” He paused, closing his eyes and dropping his head. “My underwear was old and dingy from age. After calling her a mudblood, she told me, ‘You should wash your underpants ... Snivellus.’ I knew then how angry and hurt she’d been.” Snape reached out for Harry, cupping the boy’s cheek with his hand. “I’m sorry, Harry. I should have kept working with you in occlumency, but I was horrified that you’d broken through my wall.”

“It’s okay, Professor. We were both angry with each other for the wrong reasons. What about Professor Lupin? He didn’t seem to be so mean to you.”

“Of the four, Lupin was the least spiteful toward me and I held the least enmity toward him. I think he knew some of how I felt, with his curse. When I was brewing the Wolfsbane potion for him, we were at least civil to each other. In my last days of school, I learned to be an occlumens, hiding all my thoughts and keeping my anger buried deep within. I regret revealing he was a werewolf. The wolfsbane potion prevented any issues with his monthly transformations. I simply did it out of spite. And now ... he’s dead and I can’t ever apologise for my actions.”

Snape crumpled into a shoddy chair, his hand covering his face. “I was so determined to prove my worth to Lily that I joined the death eaters. I was a fool, but they appreciated me. I wanted to be noticed. Voldemort noticed me. He taught me broomless flight.” His voice took on a haunted, self-loathing tone. “Harry ... I need to tell you this, and I fear it may make your hatred of me return worse than ever, but I must tell you.”

“What is it, Professor?”

“It was I who overheard the prophecy of the child of those who would thrice defy the dark lord and ... and though I was thrown out before hearing the full prophecy, I headed straight to Voldemort to tell him what I’d heard. He knew you had been born at the end of July and got it in his mind that you were the promised one. I begged him to let you and your mother live, but he would not be swayed.

“I went then to Dumbledore and begged him to hide you, your mother and father – to hide you all – from Voldemort, and he did so, but Peter Pettigrew betrayed your family to Voldemort and though I tried to warn them, I was too late. The only person who ever showed me any kind of love lie murdered on the floor and it was all my doing.” Snape’s voice had grown softer, but more harsh with each first person reference, as if verbally whipping himself for it.

Harry’s throat tightened as he listened to Snape relive the events which had led to his parents’ murder and his own near-death experience, but the knowledge of how Snape had turned double agent and spent time and time again protecting not only Harry, but those around him stamped out any anger that started to rise. “You didn’t kill them, Professor. Neville and I were both born at the end of July. It could just as easily been him. You were young. You made a mistake. Dad made a mistake too, in trusting Pettigrew.” Harry moved to the chair where Snape still sat, kneeling beside him. “The difference between the two acts is clear. Pettigrew betrayed his close friends while you went out of your way to protect someone who had been your enemy, and did so at great personal risk.

“I’m ashamed at the things my father and his friends put you through, and I’m sad that my mum never forgave you for being angry and embarrassed that day down at the lake. It’s hard to retain your dignity when you’ve been bullied in front of the whole school.” Harry went silent for a few long moments. “I wish things had been different. You’d have made a good friend if they’d let you.”

Snape pulled his hand away from his face. Harry could see tears within his eyes. “Would I change anything at all, Harry, it would have been telling that prophecy. I would have walked away. You would have known me only as your potions master and your parents would have been spared. My life wouldn’t have been any more lonely than it already has been if your mother and father had lived.”

“But then Neville might have died, and his parents too.” Harry gazed up at the older man. “Severus ... thank you for all you’ve done for me. You don’t mind if I think of you as family, do you? You loved my mother so much that your patronus echoed hers. I asked Dumbledore if he thought that was strange shortly after I died. He said it wasn’t strange at all. I think what he was saying is that you loved her so much, and so unconditionally, that your patronus couldn’t be anything else. I think she would be pleased to have you keep looking after me ... guiding me and teaching me. I mean, I’ve had Voldemort in my head so I don’t think there’s any good chance I’ll ever go bad.”

“Harry ... it humbles me that you would even ask to think of me as family when I have been nothing but contemptuous with you except on rare occasions where the best of me could be shown, if only to myself. I surreptitiously replaced your broom after yours was destroyed. I knew it would be better for all if you thought Black had given it to you. That cat of Hermione’s didn’t know the difference between my galleons and Black’s.”

“Severus? You got that broom for me?”

“I knew without doubt that as horrible as your aunt had been when Lily was found to be a witch, it would be doubly horrible in your aunt’s home. I know how you were bullied yourself ... it seemed a fair thing to do because of how you enjoyed Quiddich. I still must cheer for Slytherin, but I won’t mind if you win against them.”

Snape rose from the chair, then spoke softly to Harry. “There’s one more place I want you to see.” He turned and headed toward a dusty staircase and climbed the rungs deliberately. He stepped through the landing and to a door, which he opened. Harry went inside and nearly gasped. The room was so much like his own room back with the Dursleys, after he’d been allowed to move out of the cupboard under the stairs.

There were a couple of Slytherin items here and there, but mostly, there were drawings and snapshots of his mother. In many of the pictures, there was a young dark-haired, pale skinned boy in clothing so mismatched that it nearly appeared

deliberate – Snape in his youth, and Harry could see how happy Snape had been with Lily Evans in his life. Here, in this tiny little room, was a bit of a shrine to her, back when they’d been best friends. While Harry had no doubt that James had loved his mother, he was confidant that Snape loved her more. “I felt bad for you when I saw what my dad did when I saw your memories, but I don’t pity you, Severus. I’m just sorry my dad was such a jerk.”

“It’s past, Harry. Your friendship now, even after all that I’ve done, is enough.”

Harry’s green eyes met Snape’s deep brown eyes. “You’re a good man, Severus. I’m lucky to know you ... and not the man you pretended to be all these years.”

“You stayed with me, Harry. You stayed with me as I lay dying. You tried to stop be bleeding ... you would have stayed even longer had I not passed out, thinking I’d died. Thank God for Neville. I will always be your family and I would die to protect you.”

Harry embraced the older man, proud of him. “And I would for you, Severus.”

Snape sighed softly, happy for the first time in too many years. “Shall we head back then? Hogwarts is always preferable to this musty old house.”

“There’s one more place I want to visit, if you don’t mind.”

Snape nodded, letting Harry take the lead in disapparating.

When they apparated, Snape’s knees went weak, standing before the ruined cottage where James and Lily had died. Harry put his arm around Snape’s shoulder, steadying him. “You lived your worst nightmare here, Severus. I wanted to be here with you to lay your burdens to rest.”

“Harry ....” Snape murmured, his eyes on the ruins, his pale skin even more pallid. “It’s my fault ... it’s all my fault.”

“You came here, at your own peril, to try and save them ... to save me. You arranged to have my parents bodies returned for burial and spirited me to Dumbledore, again, at great peril to yourself should you have been discovered. And there, you vowed to protect me simply because you had loved my mother. I know I was very much like my father at first, and seeing a child who looked so much like the one who had tormented you made old hatreds run deep, but you still did it, in spite of how you felt about my father and me. But you came to see that I was not just a duplicate of James. Sirius seemed disappointed that I was less of a risk-taker. You know, he wasn’t proud of tricking you. Given time, you might have become friends.”

Tears had filled Snape’s eyes, and he turned to fixate on Harry. “No, you were more of Lily than I ever dared let myself admit, and you were not a bully, but a defender of the bullied. Ron Weasley and Neville ... you stood up for them both. You took Lily’s role and I ... that of your father.

“I don’t deserve your compassion, Harry Potter. Nor do I deserve your love.”

Harry gazed serenely up at Snape. “You do, if nothing for the love which – all these years – you have held in your heart for one woman, and the mortal danger, the deception to and rejection of your friends – and the utter disgust at Dumbledore when he told you I had to die. I’ll never forget your words.”

“‘You’ve kept him alive all these years so he can die at the proper moment. You’ve been raising him like a pig for slaughter.’ I was ...it was then that I realized I had grown to care for you, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself. I love your mother, nothing can change that. And you are your mother’s son.”

“We both got a second chance. It’s our duty to make the most of it.”

Harry led Snape through the streets to the cemetery where his parents lay. He used his wand to replace the wreath that Hermione had conjured back around Christmastime when they last were in Godric’s Hollow. “She’d be proud of you.”

“And you as well, Harry. You’ve been far braver than anyone would have thought a young man could be. We should head back to the castle. Are you ready?”

“Of course. Ready when you are.”

Snape gathered Harry up and turned like smoke, carrying Harry over trees and villages until they returned to the front gates of Hogwarts. Harry gave Snape a sidelong glance. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving me some after-hours potions lessons, for my auror testing. I want to be graded by you as if I were still in your class. I used to do horrible in them because – well, I was quite frankly ... intimidated – by you. It wasn’t until I got your book that I did well. Mainly because you knew better than the git that wrote the book.”

Pausing to look up at the stars, Snape let forth a sad chuckle. “All I had were my potions. I’d lost Lily’s friendship. I’d become James and Sirius’ personal plaything. If one had told me that I would be standing here in this courtyard, befriended by James and Lily’s son back then, I’d have called them mentally deficient. It’s better this way for you, Potter. You have your father’s good looks, whereas I wouldn’t wish this nose on anyone.”

He shot a wry smile at Harry, who smiled back. “I dunno, Professor. I think it’s a good nose.”

Snape patted Harry on his shoulder as they entered the castle. “Thank you, Potter. And yes, I would happily give you potions lessons. Even as cruel to you as I was on your first day in potions class, you still remembered that a bezoar cured most poisons ... you saved Weasley’s life.”

“You took the time to teach me what powdered root of asphodel and an infusion of wormwood created, where to find a bezoar and that monkshood, wolfbane and aconite were different names for the same plant when I didn’t know. You also didn’t treat me special. To you, I was just another student.”

“No ... to me, you were James Potter incarnate. Smug, arrogant, popular ... but you are more Lily than I dared believe.”

“Professor? I’m curious. Are you the only one who was ... associated with Voldemort back in the day who ... who could summon a patronus charm?”

Snape stopped walking and turned to face Harry. “Even though the majority of my life was miserable, there was one happy memory I had that gave me enough power to summon the patronus charm.”

“Loving my mum?”

“Yes. And now, my happy memories are in l-”

Harry met Snape’s black eyes. “It’s okay, Professor. You can say anything that you wish.”

Snape’s eyes, once cold and emotionless, now showed an array of emotion. “My memories are in loving the man you’ve become, Potter. That my sacrifices were not in vain. That you are Lily’s son as much as you are James’ son. That some of Lily’s love of me lives on in you.”

“Professor Snape, I think my dad and mum would be happy that we’ve become friends and that you’ve taken me under your wing.”

“I was so angry for so long that I forgot who I truly was. Thank you for helping me remember, Potter.”

The bell tower struck out the time and Snape checked his own timepiece. “We should be getting in for the night. Even with Voldemort gone, there’s still followers of his to be rounded up, and should word get around that I, the great betrayer, am still alive, there may be trouble. The wards have all been replaced, but one cannot be too careful.”

Harry nodded, following behind Snape up to the Gryffindor common room. They spoke their good-nights and each went to their own room.

From across the moors, a pair of cold, glittering eyes regarded the school with pure malice. If not for the traitor to the dark lord, he would have returned his family to good standing. As it was, he was a fugitive, denied the comforts of his own home, or even that of an associate. He would not say friend, as he had none left. It irked him to no end that it was Snape who had been the spy. Snape, who had once been considered a friend. Snape, who all the while proclaimed himself to be the Dark Lord’s man had been Dumbledore’s. Snape, who had miraculously risen after being slain by the dark lord. Snape, who clearly had betrayed the dark lord and all those who followed him. He would pay, and pay dearly.