Fragile

Chapter 2

Two days later, Harry made his way down to Professor Snape's office in the dungeons for his Occlumency lesson. He had spent most of the time since the headmaster's announcement in his dorm or wandering around the school grounds, avoiding human company as much as possible. He had also made a trip to the library and managed to find a book about soul bonds. The book mentioned that bond partners were able to feel each other's emotions and share thoughts. Harry shuddered when he thought about Snape reading his mind and feeling what he felt.

It still felt surreal that Dumbledore expected him to bind himself to Snape, of all people. After a while, Harry had managed to recognise the sense in the old wizard's choice but that didn't make the idea of a soul bond to the vile Potions master any more bearable. Snape might have agreed to resume his Occlumency lessons at the beginning of the last school year but his general attitude towards Harry and his friends remained disdainful and unfair. Despite Harry's sexual preferences, he didn't even want to think about becoming intimate with his greasy haired teacher.

There also remained Snape's rather strange reaction when he realised that he was the wizard Dumbledore had chosen for Harry. Like the headmaster, Harry would have expected his professor to rant and rave and categorically refuse to even consider the very idea of a bond to his student but he would never have expected Snape to panic and flee the way he did. The Potions master had barricaded himself in the dungeons ever since and hadn't even come to the Great Hall at meal times. Nevertheless, Harry thought it would be best to attend his Occlumency lesson as usual, especially as he didn't really have anything better to do. If Snape didn't turn up after ten minutes, he could always leave again.

To Harry's disappointment the professor was waiting for him in his office. His appearance was however alarming: his skin was even paler than usual, with a sickly greenish tinge. Under his bloodshot eyes were deep purplish black shadows that made him look as if he had slept very little and cried a lot. His gaze darted around the room nervously but he never directly looked at the boy in front of him. Without a word, he motioned his student to get ready. Harry noticed that he didn't even deposit some memories in a pensive as he usually did at the start of the lesson.

Taking a deep breath, Snape launched his first attack. Harry, who had vastly improved over the past year, was surprised by its uncharacteristic weakness. Used to much more vehement assaults, he pushed back with all his force. When he saw memories that were not his own racing passed, he knew he had penetrated Snape's mind. It still didn't happen very often that he managed to get past the other man's defences but most of the pictures he saw were vaguely familiar by now: Snape's childhood memories of his brutal alcoholic father and his sick mother, Snape's years at Hogwarts, glimpses of his time as a Death Eater. Then, unexpectedly, Harry found himself in front of a memory he had never seen before and that made him feel physically ill. The woman he had learned was Snape's mother was lying on the floor, unconscious and bleeding from several cuts on the face and head. The boy Snape, probably about twelve years old, was pressed front first against the rough stone wall while his father was savagely raping him. The older Snape had gripped his son's hair and with every thrust of his hips, he brutally smashed his head into the wall, grunting things like "dirty little sissy", "useless mummy's boy" and "disgrace to all purebloods". The boy's face was contorted in pain, fear and humiliation and blood and tears mingled to leave dirty streaks on his cheeks.

As suddenly as the memory had appeared it was all over. Harry found himself on all four on the floor of Snape's office, gasping for air and needing all his will power to keep himself from being violently sick. Bracing himself against Snape's wrath, he hesitantly looked up. But the confrontation he feared didn't come. Snape had curled up into a ball at the foot of a book shelve and was trembling uncontrollably. Arms tightly wrapped around himself, he was rocking back and forth, crying and mumbling unintelligible things.

Despite his dislike for the man, Harry hated to see someone as proud and strong minded as Severus Snape reduced to such a wretched state.

"Professor Snape?" he asked tentatively. When there was no reaction, he stretched out his hand and carefully touched the other man on the shoulder. Snape recoiled from the touch. The breathing became more ragged and his whimpers grew louder. Harry managed to discern several words.

"Please. Father. No. Hurts. Pain. Mother. Mercy." Snape seemed caught in his own memory, unable to break free and return to reality.

Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to get help but didn't want to leave the terrified man alone. His instinct also told him that Snape wouldn't want anyone to see him in this state of weakness. So he remained where he was and tried to make soothing noises to calm his teacher.

"Shhhh, Professor." No, that sounded somehow wrong, too impersonal to be comforting. Hoping he wouldn't pay for this, he started again.

"Severus, it's alright, I'm not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. Shhh, it will be fine. He can't get you here. I'm going to protect you." His babbling seemed to calm Snape down slightly. At least the older wizard stopped rocking back and forth. Harry carefully tried to take Snape's hand. At first, the other man flinched at the touch but then he curled his long fingers around Harry's and held onto them as if they were a lifeline. Encouraged by this positive reaction, Harry put an arm around Snape's shoulders and gently pulled the man towards him, never once ceasing to talk to him. Snape sank against Harry. He was still sobbing and didn't seem to realise where he was or who was with him but at least the whimpering stopped and he wasn't shaking quite as badly anymore.