Recollection

By Taleya

Chapter Twelve

Professor McGonagall waited in the hall outside the infirmary, mind whirling around itself as to what to do next. She was genuinely torn in two directions.  On one hand there was Severus, a long-time and respected, if not dear friend, (no matter how hard she tried, the trite phrase "dear friend" refused to apply itself to Snape, no matter how apt it was)  and on the other she had Harry, onetime student, and a man of character - she prided herself on the ability to spot people's inklings and always thought him to be forever honourable, much like his father.

And now the school would be torn in two, those who would take Severus' side, and those who would take the side of Harry, but who would be on the side of the truth? Things went wrong. It was a fact of life.

Like Pomfrey before her, she worried for the younger man.  He was alone, no one seemed interested in hearing his side of the story, and it was a story she'd pondered on, pondered on the entire matter while waiting for him to either emerge from the infirmary, or be called in to help pry the two men from each others throats.

Although Severus had never told her the father of his daughter, he had intimated that the other man was unaware, and he would prefer it to stay that way.  The sympathy in her heart had redoubled at the idea that the father was somehow an enemy, and that the child Severus was growing to love as it nestled protectively inside him would be used as some cruel pawn against him.

Now she knew who the father was, she could see a little of what she fancied was the rationale behind the act.  The child of Severus Snape and Harry Potter would be a goldmine of vengeance for any twisted with or wizard that bore a grudge.  But still…to deny a man his own child!

If the relationship had been so strong, so strong that a child would result, why had there been no word between the two? Severus would have cut himself off, it was characteristic of the man, she'd seen it even when he was a young boy starting his education, a boy who'd grown to believe in mistrust, a boy who'd learned to cut himself off a the first sign of betrayal rather than wait for a second.  But why hadn't Harry even kept in touch, given rise to the possibility of finding out before now?   She couldn't imagine the persistent young Gryffindor she'd known to allow himself to be rebuffed from something that had been that strong…

Her mind had worked patiently away at it while she'd waited in the hall.  Although a spinster herself, she was no stranger to love - or hate - and she knew that more often than not when the relationships that seemed so true and pure broke, they broke irrevocably, severing all ties.  It was a cruel irony and testament to the passions of humanity.

As soon as Harry left the infirmary door, the look on his face decided her mind.  Harry didn't need questions, didn't need recriminations.

What Harry needed desperately was a hug.

Harry stiffened as his old teacher's arms came around him, then clung to her, shocking himself with how desperate he was for a simple embrace.  He suddenly craved for the old days. It had to be the castle, it had to be. Had to be the old familiar surroundings wrapping around his body and mind, making him crave the way it was back when he was a boy. When everyone told him he was brave, he was clever, a thousand little compliments that never fuelled his ego, simply fed a part of him long starved by the Dursley’s. Someone to tell him he was good.

He felt his chest hitch once, twice, tears beating again at the simplicity of a human touch and he cursed himself a thousand times for being stupid but he couldn't stop it.  McGonagall widened the chair she was seated on, making it a bench and he shamelessly curled into her, tears soaking the front of her robes.

Minerva made soft, calming noises, rocking gently, stroking his hair. Oh, the circumstances changed, the man was different, but she remembered so well holding poor Severus like this, soothing him as he cried…

***

Severus had taken to lying in of late, both from exhaustion at his progressing condition and the desire to avoid the open stares of the entire school at breakfast and the other teachers hadn't commented on it.  Minerva worried in the kitchen with the house elves, fussing as Dobby returned with another tray of food untouched. Severus barely ate enough as it was in her opinion, and nutrition was even more important now he was eating for two. He wasn’t planning on showing up for his classes either, she'd learned, and her worry doubled.  Taking some time off was all well and good, but he needed to take much better care of himself!

Gathering up the tray, she marched down to the dungeons and knocked sharply on the door.  There was no response, but then again she'd learned not to expect one.

The wards recognised her, opening under her hand and she strode into the dark chambers, tray in hand.  "Breakfast, Severus,"  she began sharply. "And I want -"

The words petered and died at the sight of the man seated on the side of the bed, feet on the floor, shoulders slumped and hands pressing to a pale face.  "Oh, Severus…"  She took a seat beside him and tugged him into her arms.  "Come here…"

The hug broke whatever control he'd been teetering on and the tears started.  Tears and self-recrimination. It was such a stupid, infantile thing to his mind. He'd been looking forward to his breakfast for once.  A conspiracy of hyperactive house elves and overeager staff had promised him a menu to match his changing palate, and when it had come…he'd been completely unable to eat it.  The mere smell of the food had sent his stomach churning and rebelling, leaving him gasping over the toilet convulsing past the point there was nothing left.  He was tired, he was hungry, and fed up with everything, mood swings and depression shoving him far past his limits.  He would even endure the Cruciatus if it would end this torment!

Minerva cradled him to her chest and rocked gently, privately glad that she was the only one witness to this display.  Severus was such a private person, he would be utterly mortified if anyone else had seen this. Bad enough that she was here.

She was worried though.  Although she'd never been pregnant herself, she had plenty of friends who had been through it, and she could never recall a case of morning sickness this bad.  Certainly not one that affected the person so badly!  In her arms Severus felt thinner than ever and she worried that he'd lost weight he could ill afford - Poppy would need to be called before anything drastic happened, even if it did turn out to simply be the worries of a mad old witch.

Not at the moment though. Severus didn't need poking or prying, he needed comfort, company, a chance to recover his cherished dignity.

"Shh…shh.." she remembered a night that had been like this long long ago.  A frightened boy who'd seen death staring at his face for the first time at the claws and teeth of a boy he was developing a friendship with, victim of a cruel prank.  Her lips tightened at the memory. Oh, only if she had been head of Gryffindor when that had happened! No slap on the wrist for Sirius Black, he would have found himself facing expulsion at the very least, even criminal charges.

And now, like then, Severus found an odd comfort in the elderly witch from an opposing house, seemingly the only person who didn't care what had happened, who had done what, simply saw a person in need of comfort.

He had cried himself dry, a thousand times it seemed, settling into a quiet catharsis, eyes seared red, face twisted in an odd mixture of self-disgust and sorrow.  She could only imagine how it was for him, the proud head of Slytherin completely at the mercy of his emotions, no longer in control of even himself.

Minerva began to rock gently back and forth, hands rubbing gently up and down the other teacher's back.  Snape made a groaning noise, eyes closing and relaxing into the motion.

"You should have been a mother, Minerva," he whispered, throat raw from tears.

McGonagall smiled. "I rather thought I was."

Snape let out a wry chuckle at that. More than once the other professor had bitched to him how it seemed she was more a mother hen to a brood of unruly Gryffindors than a teacher.

"And a good one…" the gentle motions were drawing him into sleep, morpheus loosening his tongue far more than he would allow it to be normally.  Minerva stroked his hair back from his forehead, whispering to him not to fight it, rocking him gently and staying with him until he drifted into a much-needed sleep.
 

***

Yes, more often than once she did feel like a mother hen - not only to her own house, but to a good majority of the school. She'd never given birth, but she had been mother to thousands of students over the years.  Still, there were two that she did tend to hold in her heart closer than any others, and now they would both need her.

Harry had cried himself out, pushing himself up and out of her arms and her heart pained at how he wouldn't even allow himself the peace of catharsis.  A quick spell cleared all trace of the tears away - Harry, she knew, was as close and prideful as Snape when it came to showing 'weaker' emotions.

"Would you like to come to my office for a talk?" she offered.

He looked at her almost shyly. "Yes…yes..I'd like that."  With a tap of her wand, the bench went back to a suit of armour, and the pair set on their way.

Running feet caught her attention, and Minerva paused,  one hand on the door. "I think we'd best leave this until later, Harry," she nodded behind the Auror. "There's someone here for you."

"Me?"

“Oi, Harry!”  He barely turned before he was hit by a speeding Weasley.
 

Chapter Thirteen -->

All Content Copyright © 2001 Taleya Joinson
Last modified: November 12, 2010