Chapter 24

The day after Sarah’s departure, Snape found himself once more in the headmistress’s office, addressing the portrait of his old friend.

“Centaur hair core, you say, Severus?” Albus peered over his half-moon specs with curiousity as Snape told him all about Sarah’s wand. “In all possibility, Sarah will excel at Divination.”

Severus snorted, leaning back in the headmistress’s chair. Divination was a subject for frauds and attention-seekers, he’d always thought.

“Ollivander stated that it was a one-off experiment and that no-one had been able to master the wand before. He was also a little concerned, as he could not vouch for its effects,” Snape expanded, crossing his right foot over his left knee, triangulating his lap.

“Yes, well, we know Ollivander has a reputation to protect,” Dumbledore replied. “Still, a most interesting development. Something we should keep an eye on, I feel. And how is Sarah taking to her coaching?”

“She has shown great aptitude and interest in Potions, Herbology, and Charms,” Snape conceded. “In fact, she produced a corporeal Patronus on the first attempt.”

Dumbledore’s white eyebrows shot up. “Merlin’s wand!”

“It surprised me as much as it surprised you,” Snape said smoothly. “It also seems she has a particularly strong competency in defensive magic.”

Albus ruminated on this for a while. “Given the nature of the transference of power, it would seem logical that she would be strong in the subjects that you also happen to be gifted at,” he said delicately. “The Divination aspect must have already been a part of her. Has she passed any of this ability on to you at all?”

Severus gave him a withering look. “I can assure you, the need to gaze into people’s teacups and demand they cross my palm with silver is very much lacking with me,” he answered snippily.

Albus chuckled. “A good thing, too. Otherwise poor Sybill may think you’ll be after her job next.” He twinkled down at Severus, who flexed his jaw with barely-concealed irritation. “It is good you are teaching her Defence outside of the school, Severus. It would be prudent to continue.”

Severus nodded curtly, looking at his fingernails. There were a few moments of silence, before Dumbledore spoke again.

“How are things progressing outside of Sarah’s education?” he asked lightly.

Severus felt rankled at the question, knowing it was leading somewhere he did not want to go.

“Sarah is still working at the library, so I presume she’s very happy there,” Snape replied, being deliberately obtuse.

“That’s not what I meant, Severus.”

Reluctantly, Snape threw his black eyes back up at the painting and saw the old man looking down in concern.

“I know she is very fond of you,” Albus said quietly.

“And I am fond of her,” Snape murmured. “But it does not change the fact that she does not know a thing about the war, or Lily, or the Dark Lord, or the Death Eaters. She doesn’t even know I am a killer. She knows nothing, Albus, nothing!” Severus raised a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Severus,” Dumbledore began softly. “Forgive my intrusion and my presumption. I know you have resolved your feelings for Lily, and I have seen you grieve for all that happened during the war. And I am truly grateful that you are beginning to heal. But it seems to me there are still many, many wounds buried deep within you that are still festering.” Severus scowled up at him and Albus knew he was skating on thin ice. “I know that the only way you could have coped over the last twenty years is by blocking out the horror you saw whilst you were associated with the Death Eaters. It is a testament to your will and character that you had the strength to do this, and an indication of the brilliance of your Occlumency, no doubt. But you need to resolve your feelings about these incidents, and you need to put them to rest in order to finally accept yourself. I fear it will destroy you, and your blossoming relationship, if you do not.”

Snape sat in silence, trying to push down the bubble of anger that welled up inside him whenever someone tried to penetrate the walls of his emotional defences, and instead concentrate rationally on Albus’ words. He was right, of course. There were many things in his past he did not wish to revisit, many acts of cruelty and neglect, that, if he was being truthful, he was afraid of. He sighed.

“We all have skeletons in our closet. I am sure you are well aware of mine, thanks to the delightful writings of Rita Skeeter.” The old man looked at him kindly now. “You deserve a future, Severus - a happy future. And I don’t want you to taint that future by not being able to accept the past.”

Severus’ eyes gazed into space. He had intended to revisit the memories one day, when he felt able to. The war happened only two years ago and Albus was right, he’d done much healing since then. But these memories… there was some dark material in there, and he knew it would be horrifically painful for him to relive them. He thought of Sarah, and how, for once, there seemed to be glimmer of opportunity for light in his life since their paths had crossed. If Severus continued to be weighed down by his past, he would undoubtedly push her away with his self-loathing and bitterness, like he’d done with any other person who tried to get close to him. This realisation hit him like a Stunner. He couldn’t lose her, not now.

“May I borrow your Pensieve, Albus?” he asked after a while.

“Be my guest, Severus,” Albus said reverently, masking his relief. “Take as long as you need.”