LEGEND OF THE LOST: A HARRY POTTER FAN-FICTION SAGA
By Avellina Balestri (alias Rosaria Marie)
Word Count: 66,667
Rating: PG-13 for violence, language and sensuality
Summary: Following the attack by Nagini, Severus Snape is partially paralyzed and going blind from the venom. Harry Potter decides to probe him for answers and begrudgingly becomes his sole care-taker in a secret shack on the Hogwarts grounds. Can old wounds be healed before the end, or will generational hatreds linger on beyond the grave?
He shut his eyes tight, hoping the burning would stop, refusing to let a cry come forth from his lips. He was Severus Snape, the Half-Blood Prince, proud, and stern, and beyond the point of…
Am I so lost…that even you…you can’t find me? Oh…no….
“What made you do it, Snape?” Harry demanded, but his voice was breaking now. “You turned to the dark arts, even though you knew it would break my mother’s heart. If you really loved her, how could you do it when you knew you would lose her over it?”
“You know, Potter,” he whispered lowly, almost like the growl of an injured animal. “Do not play innocent with me. You know the pull of the undercurrent well enough… ”
Snape forced himself to hold fast against that memory, of cradling her cold, lifeless body against his own, and how he had sobbed so long and hard he thought he might die there in the dark, wracked to the core of his being which no one had ever recognized but her.
He remembered her emerald eyes, sightlessly staring into nothingness, and the way her red hair fell loose against his heaving chest, and how he had kept repeating broken, futile apologies for his own cursed weaknesses that he knew she would never hear...
“Then what did you do?”
“Why do you care?” Snape huffed.
“I don’t know…it’s just getting interesting.”
Snape sighed. “For your information, we just…sat on the stairs and talked.”
“Just…talked? At a party?”
“How long…do you think we’ll be friends?” he had inquired tentatively.
“But that’s…that’s forever. What if one of us dies or something?” He had been thinking of himself, thinking of his father bashing in his brains one day.
“We’re not going to die for a long, long time,” she had assured. “But regardless, it would still be…always. Just like in the old songs. It’s our pact together...”
“You have no greatness, but your ability to cheat,” he had rasped. “As such, I will cheat you, every day, and you will not know it. You will think you have a death-eater, but I bring death to eat you instead! You did thirst for blood, and with blood I fill you!” His frame was shaking from the lethal combination of grief and rage. “I am made of different stuff than you thought; I can play my own game, on my own terms, in the bowels of your hell. The unicorn’s blood is not the purest you have drawn, and you have drunk your own poison. She will be avenged...”
“But…you seem to talk about this stuff as if it were magic. You actually seem to…love this stuff. Getting glory is nowhere near as good as loving something.”
Snape opened his mouth, preparing to retort, and then stopped. This damned boy had just summed up the quandary of his whole life.
“Some might…seriously disagree with that snippy little statement, Potter…”
No. No. No. Lily…
“Harking is bonny, and there lives my love…”
“My love lies on her, and cannot remove…”
“It cannot remove, for all that I have done…and I never will forget my love…”
Like lightening, he shot up, fury blazing in his eyes, and like the fire of the red sun, heart bleeding before the cleansing of the storm, his power burst forth from him, pushing back the illusion, and casting Bellatrix across the room against the wall...
“Something inarticulate took hold of him, something primal, something that swelled his chest with sheer disgust. As much as he had hated his muggle father and his muggle town, it did not change the fact that he was a midlander, bred and born. The free shires of England, with their history of outlaws in their forests and machinery smashed by General Ludd, had been his home. He had walked the common land, and pathways that rambled over the hills. Even the stench of the factory and his father’s alcohol-stained breath could not prevent the free air from entering his nostrils. The history was too rich for him to swallow slavery. Not now. Not ever.”
“Snape squinted. “And trapping plastic rainbow mice is supposed to be a liberating exercise?”
“Yeah, exactly! We’re defying convention.”
“Come on, just pick a mouse, any mouse!”
Snape exhaled, exasperated. “Just…random pick.”
Harry smirked. “I think…I’ll give you pink.”
Snape scowled. “I do believe…you’re trying to get onto that list…after all.””
““Walking can be romantic, if you don’t care particularly about getting anywhere. Talking can be romantic, if there’s trust in it, and something more meaningful than sweet nothings, with quiet spaces in it that aren’t awkward, like a symphony. Reading can be romantic, eating can be romantic, making things grow can be romantic….as long as someone is there who understands, even in an unspoken way, that it all is worthwhile, that there’s something greater to life than running about like chickens without heads in search of a thousand ways to amuse or thrill or entice each other onwards, in some perverted little game, to prove to the world that you’re not…alone. That you can keep the other party constantly entertained, like a painted clown at a circus, and always terrified of dropping the juggling balls someday, and having the audience break up…””
“I…I’m sorry…I…I didn’t mean to…” His lower lip started to tremble seeing the blood dripping down her thumb. “Please…please…I didn’t mean to, honest…”
“Severus,” she choked, seeing the terror throttling him. “Oh, what have they done to you?”
He was shivering, and closed his eyes tight. “I just…want to end it…I don’t want…to hurt…” He stuffed his wounded hand into the pocket of his trousers, his nerves fraying. “Don’t want…to hurt…you…or anyone…” He shuddered. “I…I…dream about it…sometimes…”
“About what, Sevy? Tell me…”
Snape closed his eyes. “If you stay…in this place, you will become their savior and slave, Potter. They will raise you on such a high pedestal, you will never be able to climb down, and they will move you across their chess board as they see fit. This world…is dying. It is clinging to life in whatever ways it can. They will bleed you dry like a leech, if they get at you. They will use you to play politics, to keep their petty powers sustained.”
“The ministry already asked me to…affirm their power, to calm the populace,” Harry admitted.
“You see? They won’t let you…really live, Potter. There is no future for you here, unless you work for them and their broken, useless powers that can dry up in a twinkling and leave you with nothing but cracked, parched earth. Go out, away from here. Go, before it collapses in, and crushes all beneath its shadow…”
“But I suppose Voldemort never appealed to that. Only to…well, what you said. Their ambition, to make them his own.”
“That’s the only part of them he could grasp,” Snape stated. “Yes, he could only grasp…struggle, an eternity of it, but never contentment, in himself or anyone else. He could never perceive any shade of deeper realities. And in that, I have learned…to pity him.”
“Oh you may not think I’m pretty, but don’t judge on what you see…I’ll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me…”
No, no! You’re not half as clever as you think! Your judgments are as ashes and dust!
“There’s nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can’t see…So try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be…”
You can’t know that! You can’t see through to the heart! A hat cannot know love or hatred! What right have you to damn me, what?!
“Sev…Sevy…” The faint memory of a broken voice, and a cool hand brushing his hot brow. A broken vision of light, as if shining through cut glass, and an angel’s face. “Lily’s here…don’t be afraid…Lily’s right here…”
And he knows the angel is crying…crying for him. And her tears trickle onto his face, and the very lightest brush of her lips caress his feverish brow. And then… the angel sang through her sobbing:
“…my love lies on him and cannot remove…it cannot remove, for all that I have done…and I never will forget…my love…”
“You…you came for him, didn’t you?” he queried, letting his hand run down the sleekness of her neck. Her eyes beamed in the darkness…and he knew the answer already.
“Down in yonder deep green field, there lies a knight slain ‘neath his shield…now, here there comes a fallow doe, as great with young as she might go…”
“He loves you lots, mum,” he said. “Take good care of him, even if he’s cranky, alright?” He felt his eyes starting to well up again, and he felt the deer come closer, and he rested his face against her neck. “Show him…what the open sky looks like…show him where the water runs clear…”
“He closed his eyes. “Give mum a hug for me, okay? And if you see my dad…tell him I said hi. Tell him how annoyingly like him I am sometimes. And tell him…I won’t make the same mistakes he did.”
One last time he touched the stone. “See you soon, Snape. Thanks again for this life I’m living. God knows it was worth everything, after all…”
“But I want you to be the one
To tell me again…
Oh, it’s beautiful, Lils…”
“Silly, silly…like a little boy…”