»»————- song: ————-««
nuvole bianche
★ by ludovico einaudi ★
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To despise Harry Potter had been part of a plan. A decision made far before the boy had ever come to Hogwarts.
It wasn't all a front. It was easier to hate him when he looked so much like James Potter, right down to the glasses. The Dark Lord would like that, the idea of revenge. He would invade Snape's mind, see James tormenting Snape, then see Snape tormenting Harry Potter, and the Dark Lord would laugh and call it fitting.
But if Dumbledore said Voldemort was coming back, he was coming back. And so Snape had to be prepared. It was easier to lie if you half-believed the lie, anyway. He could have looked the Dark Lord in the face and said, "I despise Harry Potter with all the marrow in my bones," and it would have been true.
Snape could no longer say that he despised Harry Potter with all the marrow in his bones. It was hard enough to hide Lily away from the prying fingers of Voldemort's Legilimency—Harry Potter would just become one more liability when the Dark Lord returned.
Love was a liability.
So when the boy said, "I mean, I trust you. I do," Snape knew he had lost his touch. He knew he had an odd look on his face, but what did he care? What did he care that he wasn't hiding away all the important emotions?
Someone else had said that to him, once. Not many people trusted Severus Snape. But one person had.
♢
"Are you sure about this?" Snape shouted from below the tree.
"Positive!" Lily shouted back. "It'll be like landing in pillows!"
"I've only tried catching rocks and stuff," Snape said worriedly. "I don't know if I can catch you with magic, and from so high up!"
"If I break my leg, I'll just tell my parents I slipped from the tree and my accidental magic didn't come through," Lily said dismissively. "Come on! You wanted to practice your wandless magic so you wouldn't get caught by the Ministry, didn't you?"
"You're such a Gryffindor," Snape muttered, stomach lurching at the thought of Lily breaking her leg. "Shouldn't we keep pillows here or something just in case?"
"Mum and Dad will ask what for," Lily said.
"You could lie," Snape suggested.
"Oh, I can't do that!"
Snape almost pointed out to her that she was fully ready to lie to her parents if she was injured, so what was another lie? But Gryffindors seemed to think differently than Slytherins, so he dropped it.
"I trust you, Sev, I do!" Lily trilled. "I won't blame you if anything bad happens. But if it works, it'll be wonderful!"
To be trusted was a wonderful thing. So Snape stepped forward, as though under the Imperius Curse, powerless to go against Lily's wishes...
After Lily came back from the hospital, Snape had been sick with fear. When he was finally saw her again, he didn't rush forward. He lingered by nearby, wondering if Lily would go back on her words and hate him after all.
"I only sprained my arm, Sev," Lily said, laughing. "Bummer. If I had broken it, it could have been my very first broken bone!"
"Don't say that," Snape begged. "Please."
"Are you squeamish, Sev?" Lily tipped her head. "Sorry. But the hospital was exciting!"
Snape looked at the ground. "I shouldn't have let you done it," he said, the guilt consuming him.
"The branch was only a couple meters up," Lily shrugged. "I landed wrong. My fault."
"You trusted me."
"And I still do, silly!" Lily giggled. "You didn't do it on purpose."
Snape looked up at her, hopeful. "Yeah.... I definitely didn't do it on purpose."
"And the hospital was such an adventure!" Lily twirled around.
Snape gave her a soft grin. "You've got a few screws loose."
"We all do," she said breezily.
♢
He let her down, quite literally. He let her down so many times. He may have not done it on purpose the first time... but he did the last time. He as good as handed her to Death. He could not say it was not on purpose. He never meant to hurt Lily, but he had wanted to serve Voldemort and there wasn't much of a difference, was there?
So to hear her son tell Snape that he trusted him... he longed to shout at him, shake him by the shoulders and tell him what a horrible decision it was. Nobody should trust Severus Snape. It would only get them hurt.
But he couldn't tell him that. So he cleared his throat and said, "For the record, I think you've surmised your father wasn't penniless."
"Yeah," Potter said. "But was he unemployed?"
"Yes," Snape said, and the word stuck in his throat. Never did he think the day would arrive when he would be assuring James' son that his father was a good, hardworking man. "Yes, and no. He was an Auror, but the Ministry was corrupted and infiltrated by Voldemort's supporters anyway. He quit his post and fought in the war, just not with pay."
"Oh," Potter said.
It occurred to Snape that, with the appalling way the Dursleys seemed to treat Potter, that he probably knew nothing about his parents. He had hated Potter for all these years, thinking he had been regaled by tales of his heroic parents. How they were so brave, and so good. How Potter was a hero, worshiped by all of the Wizarding World.
Snape hated him. And for what? Some genius double-agent he was.
"So you didn't keep saving me because you wanted to settle a debt with my dad," Potter said, a look of realization emerging on his face. "You were doing it for my mother."
Snape felt like someone had shoved a wooden stake between his ribs.
"And Dumbledore knew as much," Potter murmured. "He just didn't want to tell me. Well, that makes so much more sense, now."
"What makes you say that?" Snape said through the pain in his ribs.
"No one does something like that in the name of hate," Potter said.
Potter didn't say anything else, but Snape finished his sentence for him silently: They do it in the name of love.
But what Snape actually said was, "You're an idealist, Potter."
"And you're a pessimist. Live a little," Potter shot back.
"I keep a tally of points I'm going to take when we get back to Hogwarts, you know," Snape threatened.
"Keep your cards close," Potter said. "It would have been funnier to see my expression when we get back and I see the House counter in the negatives. Besides, if you still hated me, you'd have chopped me up into potions ingredients by now."
"I'm not above it, trust me." Too late, Snape realized it was a test. A test to see if Potter could push the boundaries and still not provoke a reaction from Snape.
So he was a Slytherin. A Slytherin through and through. How did Snape doubt it before?
"Yeah, I trust you," Potter said. That small grin was a little too mischievous for comfort.
"Don't push it."
A second of silence.
"I don't hate you," Snape thought it prudent to say.
"I don't either," Potter admitted, the grin falling away as his expression grew somber. "But... I don't understand why you did in the first place."
"Bitterness and regret will ruin you as a person, Potter. Pray that you won't turn out the way I did."
"Was my dad that horrible?" Potter asked softly, suddenly looking frightened and sad. "Why did my mother marry him, then?"
Snape hesitated. Now was the perfect opportunity to tell Potter that his father was a bully and a ringleader of a gang, rule-breaker and trouble-maker, hounding Lily every chance he got. He could do what he had wanted to do for so many years: take his revenge and laugh at James Potter's grave, take away from him what was most precious, the love and respect of his only child.
But what had he just said to Potter? Bitterness and regret will ruin you as a person.
He would not ruin himself further. More importantly, he would not ruin Harry Potter.
"People change, Potter," Snape said. "I may not be the best example of that, but... I was never a happy child. It was easy to turn against someone so completely. Rivalry, once its flame is ignited, is hard to extinguish. Your father... in the end, with everything said and done... was a good man."
There. That was explanation enough, for now. Snape didn't think he could stomach much more than that. Potter didn't look satisfied with that explanation, but Snape also saw acceptance. There was no reason for Snape to lie about someone he hated. If Snape said James Potter was a good man, it was probably true, although a significant deal of pride had to be swallowed.
"I have a question for you," Snape said, ignoring the way Potter stiffened. "There is no use in denying how the Dursleys treated you. Don't even try. What I want to know... is how you managed to not begrudge them of their faults."
"How do you know I don't hold grudges?" Potter asked.
"You're not bitter," Snape said simply. "Bitter people do bitter things. But you went to the hospital, intending to make things right even after all they've done to you. Someone with grudges wouldn't have bothered."
"Maybe I'm just not evil," Potter said. "They don't deserve to lose their son, no matter what they did to me."
Such a capacity for forgiveness. Snape almost forgot how to breathe. "And that whale of your cousin? Does he deserve to die?"
"No," Potter said firmly. "No one deserves to die. Well, except maybe Voldemort."
"I second that," Snape murmured, forgetting his vow to prevent bitterness from entering Potter's heart. Well, if one had to wish death upon anyone, it should be upon Voldemort.
At that moment, both of them heard the roar of the Floo, though the sound was slightly subdued. Snape stood and left the kitchen, returning with a letter in his hand.
"From the Dursleys," he said. "Would you like me to leave?"
It surprised him when Potter shook his head; Snape wordlessly sat down and watched him open the letter.
Don't let Dudley Dursley be dead, Snape thought. It will wreck Harry Potter.
After all, Snape knew a thing or two about guilt.
a/n: if you told me three months ago that the ap environmental science test would almost be as bad as the ap calc exam i would have laughed in your face. how the turns have tabled
anyway thanks for all the reads and votes, y'all keep me sane during lockdown