ACT TWO, chapter thirty—four :
war inside my mind
behind my eyes it's coming down
for the thousandth time
i feel too numb to even mind
ϟ
Harry was glad Lili paired herself with him in class today.
Double Potions these days were nothing short of torture. Being shut in a dungeon for an hour and a half with the Slytherins was about the most unpleasant thing Harry could imagine. But at least he had Lili because, honestly, he wasn't sure he'd be able to survive it without her. Especially since Ron, the git, had now decided he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Harry.
Though, he could still see the 'POTTER STINKS' badges flashing across the room.
Between Lili whispering, "ignore it, ignore it, ignore it" under her breath and occasionally tapping her foot against his, he managed not to completely lose his shite.
Still, when class came to an end, Harry was more than relieved. As everyone else filed out, he hurriedly packed up his books, shoving them into his bag, preparing to to flee when:
"Potter." Ah hell. It was Snape. "Remain after class. You as well, Miss Snape."
Harry felt dread well up in his gut, but at least Lili was still at his side—
"Lilium, come here. No, Potter, you remain in your seat."
—Or not. Lili gave him a bewildered shrug as she walked up beside her father, leaving Harry more or less in the back row. He felt mildly confused, but he obeyed and slowly eased back into his chair. Whatever the hell was going on, he wasn't sure he was going to like it. For a long while, there was only silence. Snape just stared at them. Harry wondered if the man had finally inhaled too many potion fumes and forgotten why he'd asked them to stay.
"Sev?" Lili lightly prompted when it was starting to get really unbearable.
Without further ado, Snape tapped the blackboard with the tip of his ebony wand. "Read the instructions of today's assignment, Potter. Out loud."
Harry's eyes narrowed. So this was just some elaborate way to humiliate him in front of Lili, the one person whose opinion of him mattered the most. Brilliant. Really brilliant. What a miserable b—stard. And he thought they were finally sort of, kind of getting on, too!
Harry jut his jaw out in defiance.
Snape's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and when he next spoke, his tone was biting, "If you presume I am instructing you to read the board with the sole purpose to embarrass you, you are sorely mistaken, Mister Potter. I am merely attempting to test the limits of your eyesight."
Lili blinked. Harry did, too.
"Uh, I'm fine, sir. Really. I can see well enough."
"I see. Define your understanding of 'well enough', Mister Potter."
Harry worked hard not to roll his eyes. Honestly, what did the man want him to say? "Erm, well, I can see you and Lili, and I'm able to not trip going up the stairs, and obviously I can catch the Snitch!"
There. The Snitch, that was a good one. He was glad he remembered to remind him of that. Alas, Snape still did not look impressed, and Lili was studying her father with narrowed eyes like she was looking into his brain to understand just what he was on about. Harry wished he had that skill.
The truth was, he'd always struggled in Potions for a myriad of things — Snape's insults and general presence, Malfoy and the Slytherins messing with his work, and because he could barely read the loopy scrawl on the board. And of course he knew that the book didn't help because Snape always went out of his way to change the instructions as much as he bloody could.
By Year Four, Harry was honestly fed up with trying.
With a great huff, he tried to focus on the instructions on the board. He strained as best he could, leaning his chest against the table, squinting just slightly. "Uhm, six cat—caterpillar, add their blood to cauldron."
"Eight, not six," Snape interrupted calmly, pointing at the words. "Continue."
Harry licked his lips, "Add peeled shrake—,"
"Shrivel...fig, Potter."
"Oh." He cleared his throat and tried to hold his head high, which was growing increasingly more difficult. "Add peeled shrivelfig 'til potion turns yellow."
Harry stopped, swallowing hard, refusing to say another word.
Snape arched one dark brow, "Go on, Potter."
"I dunno," he murmured, too quiet for anyone else to hear.
"What was that?"
"I said," Harry gritted out, "I don't know."
"Yes, you do. Read the next line."
Harry looked helplessly at Lili who nodded at him slightly, encouragingly. Apparently, she knew something he didn't. Feeling totally miserable, he mumbled on as best he could with occasional calm corrections from Snape until finally the Potions Master raised a hand for him to stop. Harry had to resist the urge to slouch into the chair in relief.
Especially since Snape then said, "Deplorable. As I suspected." Harry opened his mouth to snap at him when the professor said, "Tell me — exactly, how old are your glasses?"
Blushing pink, eyes down, Harry gave nothing more than a shrug.
"Verbal response, if you please."
Harry gritted his teeth and forced out, "The school nurse at my primary school did an exam when I couldn't answer questions on the board... She made the Dursley's get me this pair from the corner shop when I was... six? Seven? After that..." He shrugged uselessly. "Well, nobody made them do it again."
Snape's dark eyes had narrowed somewhat. "And what of primary physicians? Dentists? Did your... relatives ever deign to bring you to them?"
Harry scrunched his brow. Why the hell did Snape care about that?
"Uhm, well, I don't think so?" Harry pushed up his glasses and scratched his eyebrow. "I mean, I wasn't allowed sweets so I've always had good teeth and when— I mean, if I ever got hurt, my—my magic always healed me before too long."
"Mm." Snape's expression briefly flashed with darkness before his impervious mask was back and he asked, calmly, "Do be honest, Potter, how often does your terrible eyesight interfere with your education?"
"Not much." Harry replied stiffly. "Honest. Besides, I get notes from Lili and Hermione whenever I need. A—And I sit near the front in most classes like Transfiguration and Charms."
"But not in Potions."
Why do you think that is?
"Er, no. Sir."
Was Harry wrong or did Snape look almost... uncomfortable?
"I..." The man cleared his throat, gaze somewhere about Harry's head, "Will not waste our time by asking why. In any case, I predicted this would be a likely result and thus..." Then, in a flurry of motion, he had crossed the room and shoved something into Harry's surprised hands.
Lili tilted up on her tiptoes for a better look and Harry blinked down at the small rectangular box covered in brown paper with shock. The paper crinkled when he uneasily tore it off and found inside a black box with a golden hinge. Harry's breath caught. Glasses. Severus bloody Snape had given him — Harry James Potter — new glasses. They were nearly identical to his own, sitting there in its black velvet home, only newer and bigger to fit his teenaged face.
"Go on, Harry," Lili's raspy voice was soft across the classroom, "Try them on."
He did. Swallowing hard, Harry very carefully replaced the old for the new. He bit back a wince and squinted slightly when the lens drew in and out of focus before he saw in perfect clarity. Self—adjusting, perfectly fitting, not even digging into his ears or nose. He could see the scuffs on his trainers and the fine scratches on the desk and the dust in the golden air.
Snape cleared his throat again, "You'll need better eyesight to survive the First Task, no doubt."
Harry blinked hard, startled by the wetness he felt there, and he looked sharply back at his professor. "Sir, I..."
"Wear them, don't wear them, it is of no concern to me." Looking supremely awkward, Snape waved him off and gave Lili a light shove towards the door, "Now, out. Both of you."
"But sir, th—,"
"Out!"
Lili took his arm to guide him towards the exit, smirking and murmuring, "Come on, Harry."
The door slammed shut in their faces.
ϟ
Dragons.
Harry had come to Lili after meeting with Hagrid in the Forest, on the edge of hyperventilating, and reported that the Triwizard Champions had to face bloody dragons.
Absolutely brill.
So, as Hermione and Harry kept practising with the Summoning Charm, Lili tried to think of how to save their friend from being charbroiled. After all, a simple Shield Charm might not be enough to defend against dragon fire. That being said, Lili went to the expert on Charms — Hogwarts' very own Professor Filius Flitwick.
While Harry wasn't (technically) allowed to ask assistance from professors, no one said his friends couldn't ask a professor's help for him. So, she'd spoken with the Charms professor about various types of shielding charms, and she asked a few careful questions without revealing that she knew too much about the Task itself. Flitwick had been extremely helpful before he directed her to the library, and so...
Here she now sat.
Lili was buried in books, the stacks stretching taller than her head. She was no researcher like Hermione, and this was thoroughly sucking the life out of her. Cheek propped on her fist, she'd read about protective orbs, Patronuses, smokescreen spells, and Muggle—Repelling Charms. There were many types of Shield Charms like: Protego Duo, Protego Horribilis, Protego Maxima, Protego Totalum...
Lili was getting lost in the mess until none other than bloody Mad—Eye Moody appeared out of nowhere to shove a book in her hands. He didn't say anything. He gave a grunt and then he left, and since she very much disliked the man, she tried to ignore the heavy tome simply on principle, but... what did she have to lose? Halfway through the massive book, Lili paused and her finger lightly trailed over the words: Protego Diabolica.
Dark Magic.
What was an Auror doing giving a student a book containing Dark Magic?
Protego Diabolica is the incantation of a powerful dark charm that creates a protective ring of black fire that burns only the caster's enemies whilst leaving their allies unharmed.
Frightening excitement curdled in her belly, anticipating building with a tingle in her fingertips. She wasn't supposed to read books like this, texts full of Dark spells that tempted her so. An inclination for Darkness was in her blood, and she ought not to tempt it. And yet...
Glancing round, making sure no one was watching over her shoulder, Lili bit her lip and read on.
Directed by the caster's will and intentions, Protego Diabolica is capable of repelling a wide variety of spells, such as most jinxes, hexes, and minor curses, as well as block physical entities and objects by burning them to ash.
Further down, the author — Eulalie Hicks, by the looks of it — explained that it was much like Fiendfyre. Ah. Lili tugged on the end of her black plait thoughtfully. She knew Fiendfyre instinctively, could conjure it without trying, could feel the magic building within her bones even now. Her father had taught her how to control it during Second Year, but, still, it lingered.
Her connection to her magic was so difficult to explain, but she felt like she understood it, and it understood her...
Harry couldn't use Dark Magic, she couldn't allow that, but... maybe... if she could use what she knew of conjuring Fiendfyre, and twist the concept of Protego Diabolica, she could create a strong enough Light spell to protect Harry from a bloody dragon.
"Oh. That's quite Dark."
Lili jerked forward, startled at finding someone suddenly standing right behind her, "F—ck!"
She'd jumped so much, she actually managed to knock over a stack of books with a solid bang. She even got a glare from Madam Pince for her trouble; she barely resisted the urge to flip her off. Instead, she turned to the blonde girl now standing at her side.
"Ah, it's you..." Lili quickly closed her book, giving a strained smile. "I was wondering what became of you."
"Oh?" The blonde girl with huge silvery eyes chimed, stepping closer to Lili and her books. Her voice was soft and airy when she spoke, "Spell creation is a very unique art. Of course it's a bit dangerous and can go badly wrong, even when you're very smart and very careful."
The girl was smiling slightly. Lili was frankly bewildered.
"How did you know I was—?"
The girl kept speaking conversationally, "My mother always said that spell creation is a combination of three things, Lilium Snape: feelings, intent, and will. All very important things, I believe."
The girl blinked simply, wearing a very serene expression, one that Lili had never worn a day in her life.
"You are very smart and very strong, Lilium Snape. If anyone can do it, I know you can."
"Oh." Lili bit her lip, feeling self—conscious, "Uhm, thank you. And you are...?"
Dreamily, she replied, "Returning the favour. Goodbye, Lilium Snape."
Lili watched in a daze as the odd girl skipped away quite happily. She blinked once, twice, three times. She liked odd people, and she especially liked odd people who knew what they were talking about. So, she got back to work. Feelings, intent, and will. Merlin knew Lili had more than enough of those, and if that odd girl knew she could do it, then maybe Lili could.
She spent hours reading in the library until curfew, and then spent hours reading by wandlight in her bed. For days, she practised seatching for her magic deep within herself, how it shifted within her bone marrow, how it burnt through her bloodstream. Feelings, intent, and will. Feelings, intent, and will. Feelings, intent, and will. The words kept spinning round and round in her head until they began to make sense. She felt how badly she wanted to protect Harry, she thought of how she intended to use fire, and she willed her magic to act. She researched Latin, practised wand movements, and nearly set her bed on fire for her trouble.
But, by the day of the First Task, Lili had created her very first spell:
Protego Aduro.
ϟ
The First Task was a hot mess.
Lili stood between Hermione and Neville, black mittens off so she could chew her fingernails. Of course they'd known it was a dragon going in, thanks to Hagrid, but it was different seeing it with her own eyes. Not to mention, of course, that Harry got the most dangerous dragon of them all.
Bloody typical.
The Snape girl barely paid attention when the other Champions took to the ring, and she was on the edge of her seat when the Potter boy finally stepped inside — looking so much smaller than everyone who came before him. So, wearing his new glasses, Harry spent the next five minutes being sufficiently beaten up by the Hungarian Horntail. When the dragon spat out fire, Harry didn't need to hide behind a rock but used Lili's spell instead.
"Protego Aduro!"
Lili's breath caught when a ring of white fire circled round Harry, frightening the dragon back enough that its own fire came nowhere close.
The crowd gasped in shock, Hermione grasped her hand, and Lili bloody grinned.
After nearly being crushed to bits but safe from being burnt to a crisp, Harry finally took to the sky with his Firebolt and the dragon broke loose and gave chase. And when he finally managed to steal the golden egg — alive and more or less completely unharmed, no one cheered louder than Lilium Snape.
ϟ
Hours later, everyone was still cheering.
In the Gryffindor common room, there was a party going on.
Lili couldn't help being a bit bitter. Now that he had brought glory to them, they were more than happy to welcome him back. Backstabbing pricks. Then again, it was not in Lili's nature to easily forgive; perhaps it was a Snape family trait to hold a grudge. Perhaps it was the Slytherin in her. The twins were chanting and hoisting Harry up between them, so they all could see the Potter boy open the golden egg... and they all could hear the d—mn thing start shrieking like a banshee. The twins dropped Harry and everyone dove to cover their ears, desperate shouts of their own joining the fray.
Only once Harry slammed the egg shut did they hear, "What the bloody hell was that?!"
They all whirled round to find Ron staring at them with a sheepish expression and a present in hand.
"All right, everyone!" Fred called a bit awkwardly, dispersing the Gryffindor crowd, "Go back to your knitting. This is gonna be uncomfortable enough without all you nosy sods listening in..."
Still covered in dirt and blood, Harry stared hard at Ron when he came slowly closer, shifting uneasily. Sitting not too far off, Lili and Hermione listened closely to the rather awkward display between the other half of their Golden Quartet.
After a moment, Ron decided, "I reckon you have to be barking mad to put your own name in the Goblet of Fire."
"Caught on, have you?" Harry sassed dryly, brow arching. "Took you long enough."
"I wasn't the only one who thought you'd done it," the redhead leant close to whisper, "Everyone was saying it behind your back."
Harry glanced round with pursed lips, "Brilliant. That makes me feel loads better."
Lili almost facepalmed, and Hermione bit back a sigh. Still, both of them kept silent and neither of them interrupted. This wasn't their fight to fix.
"Least I warned you about the dragons," Ron offered after a minute.
Harry made a face, "Hagrid warned me about the dragons."
"No, no, no, I did. No, don't you remember?" Ron stepped even closer with wide desperate eyes, "I told Hermione to tell you that Seamus told me that Parvati told Dean that Hagrid was looking for you. Seamus never actually told me anything, so it was really me all along. I thought we'd be all right, you know... after you'd figured that out."
"Who—?" Harry squinted, utterly bewildered. "Who could possibly figure that out? That's completely mental."
Lili giggled, and Hermione shook her head.
Ron chuckled a bit sheepishly, "Yea. Isn't it? I s'pose I was a bit distraught."
It wasn't all forgiven, but it was getting there.
Still, it was the most easy and awkward make—up Lili ever did see.
Hermione could only scoff in disbelief, "Boys."
Lili laughed, wrapped an arm round her best friend's shoulder, and asked, "But what would we do without them?"
ϟ
A few days after the First Task, Lili hung round Sev's office.
Eating a snack of the leftover candied fruit and nuts. Working on her History of Magic essay. Humming some new Weird Sisters' tune. Smirking when Sev periodically clenched his fist when she hit some of the higher, more annoying notes. Little known fact about Severus Snape: he hated the Weird Sisters. With a passion. It made Lili's smirk widen as she hummed a bit louder.
Now, Sev was glaring.
Pretending not to notice, the girl propped her boots up onto his desk and stared to merrily sing:
"Skreek and skrawk, hear him talk
Let this creature be your teacher
Let the wretched revolution begin—"
"Enough!" Sev finally roared, "Stop that incessant singing and get your feet off my desk this instant! Merlin's teeth! I long for the days before you knew how to speak."
Lili didn't lose her smirk, but she complied all the same so her mouth clacked shut and her boots made big thunks onto the stone.
Her father growled, though with less heat, "Must you irritate me, you wretched girl?"
"Hmm." She pretended to think, tapping her chin, "Yes."
"Why?"
"Oh, because it amuses me."
"Mm." Sev's eyes narrowed threateningly, and his voice was ice cold when he hissed, "And does your Occlumency reading amuse you just as much?"
Well, that took the wind out of her metaphorical sails.
Mental Arts Training had restarted over the summer. Now that she was older, he was teaching her to be a proper Occlumens, and she was at least relieved she was learning from the best. As soon as school ended, he had taught her that Occlumency was not only designed to hide her thoughts, but also manage pain as well as addiction. Of course, you would still feel it, it would simply be locked in a separate part of one's disassociated self. This was helped by strengthening her shields; turning her glass into diamonds.
"Yes," Lili muttered, thinking of the piles of books he'd shoved into her arms at the end of June.
"And you've been strengthening your shields?"
"Yes."
"Mm." He said again, snapping his book closed and standing swiftly. "Then you shall have to prove it."
"Prove it?" She repeated stiffly before blanching, "You mean you're going to Legilimise me, as an actual attack?"
Sev's reaction was answer enough. He spelled the door locked and circled the desk to peer down his hooked nose at her. Her father had Legilimised her often during her childhood but never on the offensive. Never with the intention to attack. Instantly, Lili hopped up from her chair and put it between them as if this could block his mental bombardment.
"P—Perhaps I'm not ready...?"
"Nonsense." Sev got into a defensive position, wandpoint raised at her forehead, "Remember: discipline your mind. Prepare yourself. And... Legilimens!"
Lili was ready for him.
She felt the familiar tendrils of her father's mind slipping into her own, not as gentle as he used to be, more harsh and invasive. She tried not to wince and instead focused on fortifying her shields. The b—stard was testing for her weak spots, but the good news: Lili was expecting that.
The Triwizard Championship, oh yes, she knew he'd go after that. Bellatrix Lestrange, yes, another weakness. Harry (and all that name implied): check. The kidnapping in Cokeworth, covered. She fortified her shields, diamonds glittering out of the corner of her mind's eye, a solid wall in which there should be no weaknesses.
Then, he found one: The Dark Lord.
Pain flared through the Mark on her arm.
The lights in the candelabras flickered and fizzed.
Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort; his name emblazoned on her mind.
The memories were back, and they were overwhelming. She was watching Sev carry a baby up the hill towards Hogwarts castle... The Dark Lord was promising her wonders from the back of Quirrell's head... She was refusing to face a Boggart in Lupin's classroom... Her mum was smiling at her from the Mirror of Erised... Sev was standing in the Malfoy mansion with a baby in his arms, saying, 'She's mine, and I'm taking her'...
The images and memories were short, violent bursts. It was an assault on her senses, an attack from every direction.
Sight, sound, smell, even taste.
Lili felt like her mind was fracturing. The pieces scattered. Out of focus. Lost. She was all over the frame. Her hands clamped over her ears and she screwed her eyes shut, trying to stuff the pictures back in her brain. But she couldn't. They kept coming and coming, faster and faster. Panic filled her chest, her stomach too.
Distantly, she heard her father say, "Force me out! Let go of your emotion—,"
Easier said than done. It was hard to move or think; shock felt like languor. She was shaking a little. Was it fear? Overload? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that her heart was pounding in her chest and blood was roaring in her ears.
She gasp, gasp, gasped in, but no, nothing.
She couldn't breathe. She really, definitely couldn't breathe.
Lili was four, feeling the sting of a bumblebee, and then she was thirteen, feeling the sting of her step—father's slap... A circle of Death Eaters stood round her in the Forbidden Forest... Harry was grinning at her from the other side of the hollow... Harry was dying from Basilisk venom... Hermione was laying Petrified in a hospital bed... Ron was pale with his fear for Ginny...
It was too much. It was all too much. Her shields were sinking beneath the tar and she fought to bring them back up, battling hard against Sev — tooth and nail. It didn't matter. She was going to black out. Her vision was fading, like a kaleidoscope of spots flashing in and out until all her eyes saw only memories.
Lili was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and she was begging for it to let her go into Slytherin... She was showing Harry the faded Mark on her arm... She was wrapped in the jasmine scent of her mum's arms... Together, Lili and Harry were driving the fang into Riddle's diary... She heard the Dark Lord whisper, 'My most precious pet'...
She had to get away from it, she had to protect herself, she had to make it stop.
Like Lucy into the wardrobe, like Alice into Wonderland, Lili slipped into the blackness.
Minutes, hours, years later, Lili opened her eyes to find herself on the floor, Sev gathering her up off it. She couldn't meet his eyes, shying away from touch of any kind. She squinted in his general direction, hand lifted over her eyes to block the waning torch light.
"It's all right."
Lili finally managed to take one look at his face and then proceeded to expel her stomach all over the front of his shoes and robes.
Lips thinned, Sev didn't take his eyes off Lili when his steady hands found her shoulders, trapping her in place, "Find an anchor."
"I can't—,"
"You can." Sev told her firmly, leaving her no room to argue.
Lili clenched her head in her hands, screwing her eye shut and gritting her teeth. "I can't fight it!" She cried out, "It's too much! Too much!"
Firm hands grasped her wrists and pulled until her face was clear. She squeezed her eyes impossibly tighter, so clenched that it made them sting and ache.
"That won't help. Stop that, look — at — me."
Lili took in two gulping breaths before she cautiously peeked one black eye open.
Her father towered over her, hard to see amongst the spots that were clouding her vision, "Concentrate. You'll have to find something to anchor upon, a focal point so the rest of it doesn't overwhelm you."
Suddenly Sev was taking her wrists and looping them around his shoulders. Then he draped her against him like he might have once upon a time when she was very, very small and very, very unwell.
"I'll be your anchor for now, Lilium. Feel my pulse, my heartbeat, and force yourself to focus on that."
Lili shifted a hand so that her small fingers pressed into his robe over his heart where she could feel it thump—thumping.
It was soothing. It took away the murkiness. The feeling of being underwater and unable to breathe.
She couldn't particularly remember many a time when her father had held her in her younger years. As it was, her memories didn't extend beyond when she could walk and it was quickly determined by her father that since she had two legs she might—as—well make use of them. Still, he must have held her at some point.
Right?
When she was only a roly poly baby and unable to do anything but sit and drool, he had to have carried her round! Taken her round the castle, back and forth from the Great Hall, to Hagrid's hut so she could pet Fang...
Sev carried her to her bedroom like she weighed nothing at all, and then he settled her on his lap to rock her ever—so—slightly. She had a thought to be embarrassed about such treatment, but in truth, she didn't mind so much. Frigging strange of her, really.
"You're too old to be held like this."
Lili only responded by burying her face into his neck, shivering against him. She more so felt than heard him cast a Warming Charm, but it did little to stop her shaking. Though after a few minutes of this closeness, some colour returned to Lili's face. She tried to blink up at him, eyes still a little glazed, lips parted for deep breathing.
"Merlin," said Sev, "You look terrible."
"Thanks ever so," Lili smirked a bit, head still pounding.
He Summoned her a draught for her headache, and once she'd downed the potion that tasted bitter like dirt and salty like green olives, he gently pressed his fingers into her temples for a massage.
"Would you care to know why the Legilimency affected you so?"
She hummed, so very tired.
"Three years ago, the Dark Lord attempted to make you his vessel by taking over your mind."
Lili's entire body went rigid, gasping, flinching away from him.
"Relax." Sev intoned, deep as usual, still massaging her temples. "Relax, my girl. Keep hold of your anchor."
Lili tried to measure out her breathing, pressing her hand harder against his chest, feeling his heartbeat thumpthumpthump against her palm.
"Do you... recall that?"
The girl squeezed her eyes shut, breathing in, breathing out. She had — memories — of it in recent years, flashes, brief remembrances, that she had tried so hard to bury beneath her Occlumency shields. But she couldn't make herself forget that it had happened; that the Dark Lord had very nearly succeeded. Very slowly, she nodded.
Sev's chest shuddered slightly beneath her hand. "Since its tangle with the Dark Lord, your mind has been affected. While you have practised strengthening your walls, it seems that he has left what Legilimens call a 'tether' within your consciousness that allows anyone with the skillset and thoughts of the Dark Lord to breach your mind. His presence opened the walls, and all of your weaknesses rushed back in."
"Oh," it was barely audible, "That means I... I'd be more impervious to his attacks, too."
After a moment, "Yes."
Brill. Lili squeezed her eyes shut again. "There was so much... so many sounds and sights and—and it all got in. I couldn't bring the walls back up, I couldn't sort it fast enough—,"
She felt pathetic. Pitiful.
Her father's face had turned quite stormy.
"I'm sorry," she murmured helplessly.
"Not at all," he cleared his throat, "Feeling better?"
"In a minute."
Sev nodded simply, not loosening his grip on her.
The only method she could think of to take away the mental pain was to sleep it off. But her brain was too loud, too fast still. The sure fire way to solve that problem just so happened to be currently pinned by her body and stuck in her bedroom. Ah, the convenience!
Lili used to beg Snape for bedtime stories. Especially when she was little, she had loads of sleep problems from difficulty falling asleep to usual nocturnal awakenings.
No matter how much he would whinge and groan, he would still tell her all sorts of made—up stories.
When she got a bit older, Sev had stopped with his imaginary stories and started reading instead. His low bass calmed her and she would fall asleep to the sound of him reading books like The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, A Children's Anthology of Monsters, Winnie the Pooh, A Potioneer's Guide to Parties and Poisons, A Wrinkle in Time, Healing at Home with Herbs, and of course The Tales of Beedle the Bard that Eileen used to read to Sev, when Tobias was out drinking their money in a pub. If her grandmum was to be believed, the copy had been in the Prince family for more than seven generations.
"Will you tell me a story?"
"You are fourteen years old, do you not think yourself too old?"
Puffy—eyed and red—nosed, looking up at him, Lili was aware of being small and using what she had as a half—Slytherin and a young girl. Inspiring love, she thought, had to do with being defenseless. For him to love her, like other fathers with their daughters, he needed to feel like he had to protect her.
"Please?"
Sev rolled his eyes but at least refrained from banging his head into the wall. Glaring down at her for a moment, he snapped, "Must we?"
"Absolutely."
"Very well," he said darkly.
With only mild grumbling, he turned and Summoned the impossibly long book entitled: A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter by Bertrand de Pensées—Profondes, but a small groan from Lili made his wand freeze.
"You'll want to think very — care—fully — before complaining, Lilium."
She tugged the blanket tighter round the top of her head, "What about one of the old stories?"
"For Merlin's sake." It was Sev's turn to groan. "I don't even remember—,"
"You remember everything!"
"Lilium!"
Her smile was frozen on her face, entertained by testing his patience, but something darker curled at the corners of her mouth. Softly, she asked, "Do I still have to kill a man, Sev?"
He stiffened before her. "I... had started to believe you'd forgotten that."
"Rather hard to..." She murmured with a humourless smirk before conceding, "I did try, for a while, like with the tangle. But now, with this," she showed him her Mark, darkening all the time, "I don't think I'll ever be allowed to."
Sev didn't want to talk about it. That much was clear.
Her father suddenly stood, collected something from the bookcase by hand, and then, still looking very stiff, sat beside her on the bed, making the springs bounce and Lili giggle a bit. Not looking at her, Sev looked like he was preparing to go into battle, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his fingers. His pale hands looked a bit like a mannequin's, sturdy and slim and quick. Lili carefully uncurled herself and stretched her own hands out, trying to imitate the shape.
Then, feeling almost giddy, Lili waved the bedside lamp on with her wand, although she usually kept it off at this time of day. She wanted to make things pleasant, so he wouldn't think of it as a burden to sit here, more like a treat. The joy and relief of this event was making it hard to relax, like trying to breathe in a windstorm.
Sev cleared his throat and began in his soothing baritone, "High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune..."
Lili smiled softly, resting her cheek on the side of his arm, suddenly relaxing all at once. This story always thrilled the girl when she was little. It was different from Muggle fairytales where the princesses all needed saving. Asha, Altheda, and Amata were all witches who took their fate into their own hands, rather than a lengthy nap or waiting for someone to return a lost slipper.
"The three witches and the knight set off down the hill together, arm in arm, and all four led long and happy lives, and none of them ever knew or suspected that the Fountain's waters carried no enchantment at all."
Book closing with a snap, Sev and Lili looked at each other for a moment, both briefly smiling as if caught up in a memory.
"Yes, well. Rest now," her father said grandly as he got up, as if to underscore the experience.
Lili wasn't giving in that easily, "What does it mean?"
"Pardon?" Sev sighed tiredly.
"The story, from all those years ago, who do I have to kill? You never said."
His jaw tightened and his voice sounded like the cold edge of a blade, "It was nothing but a story, Lilium, do not speak of it again."
Then, her father turned off her light and closed the door, sentencing Lili to darkness and dreams.
ϟ
Severus used to tell Lilium bedtime stories all of the time.
If he was asked, he'd say it was a thoroughly humiliating experience that he did not enjoy at all. This, of course, would be a lie. These memories of Lilium's early youth, when they were inseparable and Severus refused independence from his own child, were some of his happiest.
He was able to give to her what he'd always wanted as a child, and yet never had. He'd given her food so she never went to sleep hungry and clothes so she would never feel cold and bedtime stories so her sleep could be filled with something other than nightmares.
Lilium had always been a difficult girl to frighten, and so she listened straight—faced through tales about howling werewolves and one—eyed trolls who ate naughty children who didn't listen to their fathers, giggled her way through Severus' copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art, and was always completely enraptured by Beedle's The Tales of the Three Brothers.
The one tale that always frightened his daughter without fail wasn't a story at all.
It was only the truth.
"One day, you will have to kill a man."
He had said it many times during those early days, but it was only when she was five years old that the meaning truly began to sink in. He'd stared down at her in her small bed, and he had said, "One day, you will have to kill a man."
Lilium's little face crumbled and that small raspy voice said, "I want a different story."
"No, this is the story that you get," Severus had snapped at her, merciless, their faces so close. He spoke slowly and darkly to make sure she understood, "One day — you will have to — kill a man."
With that strange dreamy look in her black eyes, she finally whispered, "Who's the man I'll have to kill, Sev?"
"You'll know him when you see him."
Harry Potter; he meant Harry Potter.
ϟ
Legilimency opened Lili's mind.
Overnight, her shields went down.
The nightmares got in.
Delphini Lestrange was one of many.
Shrouded in black, donning a white mask, she arrived last to the court of Death Eaters, and when she was called forward, she dropped her hood and ignored the dark jealous stares of her fellows.
"My Lord," her voice, older and colder, reverberated in the midnight air.
"My dearest pet..." He took her hand and drew her to the center of the circle, a veiny pale hand stroking her cheek so close to being tender, so close to being violent. "What took you so long? We nearly had to begin our show without you."
"I'm sorry, Godfather. I'm afraid I became..." Delphini waved a purposeful hand at the blood splattered across her white mask — not her blood, "Distracted."
That high—pitched voice chuckled and that tender, violent hand gripped her chin, jerking her to look down at the gnarled, crumpled body that knelt at their feet.
"Headmaster," a seventeen year old Delphini crooned.
Through bruised and swollen eyes, Albus Dumbledore peered dazedly up at her. He was bound in tight, magical ropes, and he raised his chin up in wisened defiance of the Dark Lord above him. Apparently, despite what her godfather had said, the show had started long before Delphini's arrival.
"You still have a chance to stop this, Tom," Dumbledore advised quietly, voice as mild as it ever was. "Think of what you've done... and try for some remorse."
"What is this? A desperate old man's last plea for survival?"
Her godfather's laughter bordered on mania, and the ring of Death Eaters followed in his insanity — shrieking and jeering and cheering.
"Is this what you've been reduced to? Are you not the greatest wizard of our time, the second coming of Merlin himself? No. Now you're nothing more than a pathetic old man, kissing the edges of my robes to beg for mercy."
"There will be no begging, Tom."
Anger flared in the snake face of Delphini's godfather, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Red pupils contracted into frighteningly thin slits, and the skin round his eyes whitened.
"My name, old man... is Lord Voldemort!"
His hand delivered a harsh smack across Dumbledore's face, but he refused to be moved — still kneeling in defiance.
"Delphi, my dearest," a snake—like tongue slithered damply by her ear, "You do the honours."
So, without hesitation, without a second thought, Delphini instantly said: "Crucio."
As the Headmaster of Hogwarts collapsed and writhed wildly in the grass, the seventeen year old girl looked over her shoulder, black eyes flickered, and landed on the certain figure of her father as he stood amongst their comrades, bowing and scraping just like all the rest. And though his face under the mask was impassive, Severus swiftly looked away.
And beyond his shoulder, Delphini spotted Lili, eyes meeting, one happy and one horrified.
Lili woke with a shriek.
The fourteen year old couldn't seem to stop herself from shrieking. The dream — no, the vision — was too horrible, too real. She thrashed in her bed, imprisoned by her blankets and quilts and her own thoughts. Her father was there in an instant. She fairly dove for her father, startling him as she clutched her hands into the front of his silk bed robes.
"It happened again. It happened again because something is broken," she touched her temple with a trembling finger, "In there. Something is wrecked beyond repair. My mind is broken."
Her father's face was something wild, shattered between anger and fear. He snarled, "Your mind... is — not — broken."
"That's just what you want to think! Because you want to believe the best of me, but it's not true! Look. Just... look."
So, Sev gently cradled her face in his hands, looked her deep in the eyes, and murmured, "Legilimens."
Since First Year, her mind had become more vibrant, and her father had grown more used to it. He'd even started to begrudgingly enjoy the red and gold memories that often sailed by, like long flickering flags. But now, the vibrancy was gone, replaced with simple black and white fear. He focused less on dreams and memories and more on the vision she pushed towards the front of her mind, burning for attention.
Finally, Sev pulled away, his eyes wide, and he murmured, with feeling, "Oh f—ck."
Lili's legs gave out from under her, and she collapsed. Sev instantly caught her, wrapped her in her quilt, and then tugged her close to his chest. He more or less ran through their quarters and carried her through the Floo into the Headmaster's office, calling out for the man immediately.
But the two men could get nothing out of Lili, not right away; she was far too gone to even be capable of speech. Dressed in his bed clothes, Dumbledore plied her with sherbet lemons and tea, and she didn't even realise that Sev had her bundled in his lap until she'd calmed down enough to speak, however hoarsely.
"How is this even possible? How can I be— why do I keep seeing these things?"
Keeping silent, Dumbledore looked to Sev for an answer that her father didn't want to give. After a time, he exhaled sharply and held his daughter closer — voice quiet and close to her ear.
"It could be borne within you, natural to your Magical Core. Or — it could be something else." Sev was speaking through his teeth, looking at neither of them. "When you were born, in the year that you were under the dubious care of B— your mother and the Dark Lord, there was... a ritual."
A ritual.
What did that even mean?
"It is why you feel the Dark Lord's presence more keenly than the rest of us who are Marked. It is why the Dark Lord has such a — fascination — with you. He... bound you to himself."
Lili didn't understand, shaking her head as she whispered, "But what sort of ritual could—?"
"Do not..." came Sev's voice, sharp and almost desperate, "Ask me — please, Lilium. Do not ask me to speak of it."
They lapsed into another brief silence, just as dark and dangerous as before.
"The Dark Lord will return," her voice was trembling, echoing in the wide space of Dumbledore's office, "I know it, I've seen it. And you... You may be in danger, Headmaster."
Dumbledore gave her an indulgent look, asking, "How can I be in danger if Voldemort has not even returned, dear girl?"
"Because of this."
Lili shakily stood from her spot with Sev, yanked up her sleeve, and bore her Mark to the room.
In the golden light, everyone could see that it was darkening, edges growing sharper, the shape more distinct. Sev turned away, eyes focused solely on Dumbledore whose face had turned grey and quite grim.
"Headmaster," her father stood up, bone—white hands wringing in front of him. "As you seem the expert in prophecy... do you know of any way we can change the course of this—," his lips curled, slightly, when he had to say, "Vision?"
"I am hardly an expert, Severus, but I understand your meaning, and you pose an excellent question." Dumbledore turned from the father to the daughter with a pensive expression, "We know your visions are real, my girl. Now, the only question is whether or not the visions can be changed. For most Seers, this is the case."
In that small raspy voice, Lili asked, "So, how will we know if the future has been changed or not?"
At long last: "I suppose we won't."
Lili's eyes filled with tears, black eyes sparkling with saltwater before she squeezed them shut. Softly, almost too quiet for anyone else to hear, she whispered, "I don't want to be a Death Eater."
Sev closed his eyes tight, as if he couldn't bear to look at her. Suddenly, one arm snaked round her back and he pulled her hard against himself, one hand on the back of her head and the other between her shoulder blades, so she could bury her face into his chest. The room had descended into a terrible silence, a shared single thought speaking far louder than anything else could.
Lilium Snape may not want to be a Death Eater, but she may not have a choice.
ANNIE SPEAKS
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OOOO things are happening!! it's so fun when i can build plot outside of the main book/movie—plot, you know? fun but also stressful. did it come across okay? the plot is really plotting now and i want to make sure it's not too confusing or out of place. opinions?
lili is going to be in some serious trouble when voldy comes back, and i'm both excited and very very nervous. whew! do you think that vision where he has dumbledore on his knees is going to come true??? also, it was so fun for me to slip luna into this chapter — even if she's not been properly introduced. luna and my girl lili are like complete opposites but they're also very similar in some ways? idk but i love it. their friendship is going to be so good.
stay tuned and drop your thoughts!!
next chapter? THE YULE BALL AND JEALOUSY — AHHHH
CHAPTER THIRTY—FIVE :
"Shut up, you twit," Draco shoved her shoulder slightly, rolling his grey eyes. "I am confessing only that Potter is bloody scar—head over heels for you. It's disgusting."
"You're disgusting," a knee—jerk reply, and it was pathetic.
But that only egged the twit on, making him sing like a five year old, "Ooh, Potter and Lilium sitting in a tree—,"
"Draco, swear to Merlin, if you don't shut your pointy face, I will put my boot so far up your arse—,"
"K—I—S—S—,"
"Mis—ter Malfoy."
Oh, they both knew that low, velvety drawl instantly. Draco's eyes widened and his face blanched white. Lili bit her lip to keep in something between a gasp and a laugh. Slowly, they both turned. Snape's face was not the usual impassive mask one would expect, no, he looked properly angry. Pale with it.
"By all means, continue your song," her father crooned darkly. "I'd very much like to hear the ending."
and here's the typical chapter meme:
i love that this is so them