The revelation
Severus was sitting at the teachers' table in the Great Hall. The staff had sat down barely five minutes ago and the room was filling up with students from second to seventh year who were heckling, happy to be back at school. Severus, on the other hand, was feeling extremely tense. He had noticed the sidelong glances his colleagues were giving him and knew that no one dared ask him any questions, but that they were all thinking about his scars. Where had they come from? Who had done this? Severus was doing his best to avoid their inquisitive stares and had put on his usual sullen, disinterested expression that he reserved for back-to-school days. Some of the Slytherin students had waved or nodded in greeting, but while he always responded with a simple nod, he had seen the same questioning look on their faces as that of his colleagues. Pansy Parkinson gave him a smile and said hello, her expression becoming stunned when she saw him. She opened her mouth and turned away quickly. Severus sighed inwardly, he had indeed underestimated this scar 'problem' and had not thought of a plausible story to explain the cause. He now realised that he should have given it more thought and promised himself that he would start thinking about something that very evening.
In fact, his thoughts had mostly been occupied with someone called Sirius Black. Severus found it extremely irritating that he could not control his mind. He had always been used to hiding his emotions, he was an intensely private man, he had no desire for anyone to be able to guess his feelings for anyone or anything and he knew he was good at it: hiding his thoughts and emotions. Not even Lord Voldemort, who had returned at the beginning of the summer, had been able to penetrate his defences when Severus had gone to him on Dumbledore's orders to resume his services as a spy. Severus always knew exactly what to let Voldemort see and what to hide from him, he knew how to do it and how to control his own mind and that of others perfectly. But not in the case of Sirius Black. Throughout the summer, when he was stuck in his room in Grimmauld Place, he would think on his bed all day long. He trained his mind to dominate itself, to allow itself to be manipulated by his will, to open and close as it wished. Severus knew that he was one of the best wizards in the field of Legilimency and Occlumency, as good at getting into other people's minds as he was at shutting them out. Perhaps he was even the best, alongside Dumbledore and Voldemort. Lying in bed in the Old and Noble House of Black, Severus had tried all summer to remember what had happened to him. To no avail. And he was afraid, much more than he had let on in front of Black and Dumbledore. He couldn't stand that his own mind knew something, that information was hidden in it and escaping him. He didn't think he had been given a forgetting spell because he knew that somehow, he had managed to escape. His torments were not therefore supposed to be over and the person or persons responsible for his fate would surely not have cast a forgetting spell until they had finished with him.
He knew that his nights had been filled with nightmares and that Black had once caught him struggling with one. Severus had been ashamed of that; he would never have wanted anyone to catch him in such a situation. He had unwillingly let his guard down and allowed his mind to take control of himself in a way that he found humiliating. Strangely, Sirius Black had seemed to know what to do or say to calm him down. Severus had almost no recollection of what had tormented him that night and had had no desire to speak with Black, always feeling deeply humiliated. He almost never recalled anything concrete from his nightmares either. During his daily mediations, Severus had become increasingly irritated to notice Sirius Black invading his thoughts unannounced, as he sometimes did when he entered his room without knocking. Severus didn't want to think about Black, and at first, he had been downright angry with Dumbledore and had experienced it as a punishment or a form of additional humiliation that the Gryffindor was forced to look after him. Black obviously felt the same way. But little by little, he had come to realise that the man was not as unpleasant as he had thought. After all, even with his clumsiness, he looked after him properly, put up with his mood swings and did not try to make fun of him or take advantage of the situation as Severus had expected. More surprisingly, he seemed to be sincere. Although Severus still didn't know exactly what to make of Black's behaviour towards him, he couldn't help thinking that one day he would wake up and realise that this was all one of Black's favourite pranks. That they had never actually been ‘friends’, in his own words.
Severus was drawn out of his thoughts by the arrival of the first years. He lowered his head slightly, hoping to hide from the others, his hair falling to either side of his waxy face. The Sorting Hat sang a song about the union of the houses and Severus sighed inwardly once more as he heard it. This piece of cloth was definitely spending too much time around Dumbledore. Once the students had been allocated to the Houses and the Headmaster announced the meal, the hubbub in the Great Hall resumed and Severus lowered his head to his plate. He was not hungry. He knew he had lost weight and, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than he already had, he helped himself to some potatoes and a piece of roast beef. Professor McGonagall then leaned towards him.
“I hope you've made up a good story, Severus," she whispered.
Ah. So Dumbledore had told her. Severus didn't mind, he liked McGonagall, a stern but fair colleague, and deeply intelligent. The Slytherin had always admired McGonagall's impartiality in almost everything she did. Also a staunch defender of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he himself had no interest whatsoever in sport. All he wanted was for his House to win. Winning mattered, no matter what else. Thinking about Quidditch suddenly made him think of Black. He too had been a great Quidditch fan, just like his stupid godson and his horrible dead best friend.
“Not quite," Severus replied through gritted teeth, his voice almost inaudible.
“Well, I suggest you go and see Hagrid, I think he might be able to help you," she whispered.
Hagrid? Severus froze. If he could avoid putting his secrets in the hands of that fat lump, it would suit him. He didn't trust Hagrid and he knew Hagrid didn't like him. He didn't know how he could go to Hagrid for help in making up a story to give him a solid cover. Severus continued to eat slowly, he was annoyed and had just realised that the Weasley, Potter and Granger children were certainly aware of his situation, even if (he hoped) they didn't know the details. It had not escaped them that he had spent the summer convalescing at the Order's headquarters. Perhaps if Hagrid provided his cover, they would be less tempted to find out more, as that could also get Hagrid into trouble. Severus felt terribly selfish at the thought.
“Thank you," he whispered to McGonagall.
She nodded imperceptibly. The rest of the meal passed uneventfully, Severus chatting a little with Professor Sinistra on his right and again with McGonagall about an apparently interesting article on Animagus in the Transfiguration Today. Severus was particularly interested in what McGonagall was saying and couldn't help wondering if Black knew about it. The article was about the resistance of wizards in their Animagus form to forms of dark magic, including all spells and enchantments that had an effect on a person's soul or feelings in general. Severus was captivated and was delighted to have a good excuse not to talk to anyone else. He could already see himself talking to Siri- no Black and asking him questions to find out more about his form and how he felt when he turned into a dog. It was indeed an incredible form of magic. McGonagall told him that she had boundless patience when she was a cat and retained her keen senses of hearing, smell, and sight. Severus wondered if Black also had a keen sense of smell, even in human form, and congratulated himself on taking great care with his personal hygiene from the moment he woke up. He was grateful to his colleague for monopolising the conversation with him so as not to let anyone speak to him and ask unwanted questions.
The meal ended quickly and Dumbledore rose and began his speech. There was nothing very new, and Severus was listening to the Headmaster's warnings about the current situation when he was rudely interrupted by a cough. Severus, like the others, turned to the person responsible and put a sneer of disgust on his face when he saw that it was the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He had caught a vague glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye when he arrived but had preferred to ignore her like the others during the meal. And now she was interrupting Dumbledore and getting up to speak for him. He couldn't believe his eyes and apparently the whole room couldn't either, judging by the looks on the others' faces. The woman dressed in pink from head to toe began to speak after clearing her throat again and Severus felt as if an icy bucket had fallen on his head.
He knew that voice but he had forgotten it. He couldn't remember where or when he had heard it, but he knew that his insides had gone cold when he heard it. His body was reacting for him as his mind seemed unable to function properly. In the space of a flash, he saw a dark room with a bluish light, a solid black wooden table and, vaguely, an unlit fireplace at the back of the room. The rest he couldn't see. But he could hear the woman's voice. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but she seemed to be shouting and laughing. Severus couldn't tell one from the other. In fact, he could no longer distinguish anything, and the great hall faded before his eyes. He felt his heart speed up dangerously and had the impression of an electric current running from his feet to his head. Someone touched his arm, once, then more firmly a second time. McGonagall was apparently trying not to stare at him too hard so as not to draw too much attention to himself. “I've got to get back to reality,” Severus thought. The Potions Master blinked a few times and forced his breathing to calm. He breathed in deeply and quietly and gave McGonagall a reassuring look. From the look on her face, Severus' look had not been very convincing.
He concentrated for the rest of the speech. Not on what the woman was saying, but on himself: he must not lose his footing and stay in reality, he had to ward off anxiety at all costs and used the same techniques he used when he had to appear before Voldemort. He cleared his head as if preparing for a thorough examination of Legilimency by the Dark Lord. He focused on nothingness, on void, on forgetting where he was and what he was hearing. Gradually he felt himself regain composure and control. He did not suddenly realise that the woman had stopped talking and that Dumbledore had replaced her. He put on his usual bored and disdainful expression and glanced quickly at McGonagall, moving the corners of his lips slightly: it was his way of smiling for tonight. She gave him a hard look and turned away.
When the hall emptied, Severus headed almost immediately for his Hogwarts personal quarters. He had no desire to talk to anyone and had to think hard about what he was going to do. Somehow, the woman called Umbridge had something to do with what had happened to him at the beginning of the summer, and he couldn't remember what. Severus felt in more danger than he had ever felt before. When he went to the Dark Lord, he was always afraid and knew that every encounter could be his last. But that was part of his relationship with Voldemort, it was something structural that he could not change. He knew the feeling; he knew the risks and he had chosen to take them. Umbridge was something else. It was a dull fear, lurking in the darkness of oblivion, ready to pounce on him at any moment. Severus knew he had to go and talk to Dumbledore, but tonight he didn't have the strength. When he reached his quarters, he whispered the newly changed password 'Baggins' and locked himself in. He felt as if he could breathe at last as the protective spells activated behind him, like a promise to keep him safe for at least the night, come what may.
He slumped into his favourite armchair, the one beside the fireplace. The air was chilly, and Severus lit a roaring fire with a flick of his wand. Immediately the room filled with a warm glow and Severus let his gaze wander over the bookshelves that lined all the walls of his living room. It wasn't large, but he loved his Hogwarts quarters, much more than the house at Spinner's End he had inherited when his parents died. He avoided spending time there when he had an alternative and had he not been injured, he would certainly have been forced to spend the summer there. Instead, he'd been able to stay with Sirius. Black had now become Sirius in his mind. He wondered what it would have been like if Sirius had been with him at that moment. Would he have been happy to see him, or would Severus, in his desperate need for solitude, have pushed him away? He had no answer to that question and Severus realised that his summer had been even lonelier than if he had stayed at Spinner's End. He had spent it alone with his failing memory, and Sirius had only been present for brief interruptions between him and himself.
Severus wondered what Sirius would say if he told him about Umbridge and the incredible fear that had gripped him before. He hadn't really confided in Sirius over the summer, afraid that he would fall back into old habits and mock him. But he hadn't. They had argued, but Sirius had not laughed at him. On the contrary, he had acted and reacted as if Severus's words and behaviour could mean something to him, positive or negative. Suddenly, tired of rehashing ideas about a man Severus did not wish to make room for in his already tormented mind, he knew what he needed. Human warmth, as Sirius had said. Yes, Severus told himself that what he needed most at that moment was not to think or to speak, but simply to snuggle into someone's arms, to let his head burried into the crook of their neck and close his eyes. Severus cradled his head in his hands and wondered how long he would last before he went to London and asked Sirius fucking Black for a hug.