Chapter 11
Almathea was panting heavily, pushing her thumbs into her temples to temper the migraine she was anticipating. Her amber hair had slipped from the clasp holding it and was flowing over her shoulders and ears. It was the longest it had been in a long time, but also the healthiest, so even though it was annoying her, she was reluctant to go for a haircut.
“For the life of me, I cannot imagine why you persist in using the same mind tactics over and over again, expecting a different result.” Severus said, placing his wand on the table in between them.
“Shut up, I know what I’m doing.” Almathea said as she looked around for the cup of tea she had abandoned. “What you should be asking yourself is why you’re doing such a piss poor job in teaching me.”
“You are more than welcome to self-study,” Severus sneered loathingly. “You always claim to be so proficient with it.”
Almathea glared at him over the rim of her cup. She winced. Was there anything worse than cold tea? How long had they been at this anyway? Stupid question, obviously long enough for the tea to get cold.
“I should have stumbled upon a theory that should at least mildly work by now.” She muttered under her breath, though it was only the frustration. Several mutterings ago, she’d figured out that Severus heard her every time.
“As you’ve not deemed to share any of them with me beforehand, I have not had a chance to ascertain whether any of them could help you.” Severus said as he sipped his own tea. “Dare I suggest that an idea could have merit, yet perhaps your implementation is faulty?”
“You could dare suggest that, and I could also dare suggest that your own persistence in mind attacks without proper preparation is hardly the most conducive to learning.”
“And you expect the next time you’re subjected to Legilimency to be done in a very polite way? Perhaps your aggressor will tell you the time when he expects to perform it?”
“You don’t know. I might check my schedule then, and we’ll both decide we can’t do it.” Almathea snorted and she could have sworn there was a slight tilt to Severus’ mouth as well.
They spent a few minutes in silence, while Almathea was slowly gathering her thoughts. She went over the few tactics she had used in the previous lessons, and even in this one. Musical earworms had failed miserably from the get go. Thinking about certain memories as opposed to others, and pushing them to the forefront of her mind worked for a while, but didn’t last to persistent, long-lasting Legilimency. She didn’t have the capacity to choose more and more memories and eventually the control slipped. She’d tried layering defences, walls of fire, locking memories in rooms, gusts of air like tornadoes inside her mind to scramble any emotions and memories Severus locked onto.
She’d honestly hoped that when she began meditation, she could begin work on some sort of mind palace, but she was still unsure of the shape that would most benefit it. What was definitely encouraging was that at least the memories Severus unearthed always had to do with her own history, and not anything more to do with Harry Potter’s life story. She really didn’t need to deal with the complication of having to explain anything to Severus. She also had to admit that he had been… Well, nice was not the right word. Thoughtful? Considerate? He’d stayed away from damaging memories once he would figure out that she didn’t want him there. The level of control he had was actually quite impressive.
Almathea knew there were a few more things she could try, but these were the kinds of things one had to be particularly proficient at to attempt. So, it was time to call in the big guns and ask Severus for tips. It was going to be an awful experience. Almathea readied herself for an adequately insult filled conversation.
“When Occlumency classes were introduced in the Harry Potter series, they weren’t very successful, as you can probably imagine from my lack of the actual grasp of them.” She began, and immediately noticed Severus’ attention piqued. It was so very seldom that she allowed herself to reference the books, even if only in theory. “But since the end of the series, people have been curious concerning Occlumency and several have expressed theories over how clearing the mind, guarding it, comes about. Some theories have to do with control of information that is passed between Occluder and Legilimizer during the process. Say I’ve had a damaging conversation with someone, and you want to see it. I can hide it, pretend I never had it. I can alter it, meaning I can show it to you as is, but change my response to it, hope for disdain, love for domination, that sort of thing. Conversations are prone to emotional response, and changing the emotional response, while not changing the substance of the conversation, changes the perception of the one viewing it. There are also some theories that advanced Occlumency can provide altered memories, and the best Occlumens, which it is believed you are, can alter memories to suit their purpose.”
Since Severus didn’t seem inclined to interrupt her, Almathea decided to continue. “Regarding mind barriers, for memories you don’t want anyone to see ever, some theories talk about a sort of shield, either physical or metaphorical. Walls of fire, gusts of wind, actions like flying over a field, swimming in an ocean, floating in a womb-like peace. Some theories even talk of mindscapes and mind palaces, but that is pretty advanced stuff and I guess would require a much better control of one’s psyche than I have. Things like building a library where books are memories and you burn the books that you don’t wish anyone to see, or maybe fields of flowers where each flower is a memory just waiting to be plucked, and the ones we hide are buried under an inconspicuous tree.
“The prevalent theory is that clearing one’s mind, although vague as an instruction, is actually inaccurate. A clear mind, completely devoid of everything, is suspicious. If subjected to Legilimency and providing a blank landscape, it will only prove a further challenge to the Legilimens, will spark perhaps a vicious attack upon one’s psyche. I don’t know if it would be true or not, but it is suspected that prolonged exposure to Legilimency attacks could damage the mind on the same scale as the Cruciatus caused in Alice and Frank Longbottom. Though perhaps not quite the same, I mean their trauma made them retreat inside their mind to run away from the pain, basically, but no one actually knows what goes on inside. Maybe they are reliving their ordeal every single day. Muggles have this thing called Locked-In Syndrome, where the person is trapped inside their mind, their whole body paralysed. The mind is alive, even if that person can’t even move.
“I also tried one of my own theories, when Albus attacked me. I’m very drawn to music and my theory was that an earworm, playing over and over in my mind, could be what clearing the mind could mean. Music, especially the kind that is non-descript and slightly patterned, was proven to be a very good tool in promoting study, calming the mind during stressful periods. So, I chose a song to play on repeat inside my head, and though I could feel that Albus was amused when he heard, it didn’t do much in the way of deterring him. I admit I haven’t tried again, because it felt like such a weak defence, it didn’t seem worth pursuing. So, I guess I presume that when you say clear your mind, you mean that I should somehow compartmentalise or control what it is you see.”
And that was that, Almathea concluded. She’d exposed theories in front of Severus and then she waited, sipping her cold tea, hoping he’d catch the drift and actually provide something useful for her to learn. Severus seemed to consider her for a long time. It felt like too long after a little bit. Maybe it was just Almathea’s impatience that was showing itself. She was sure she should have advanced a little with Occlumency. At least enough to not feel threatened anymore when she had to go see Dumbledore and have conversations with him.
Severus tapped his finger on the side of his cup twice before his eyes lifted to her. “I’ve heard from my sixth year Slytherins about the meditation you have them perform during Magical Enhancement classes, and the manipulation of elements that is supposed to channel their magical energy in a neutral way, while strengthening their core.” Almathea thought that was actually well put of him. It was obvious he’d given this a lot of thought; she pondered as he continued. “I assume, since you are teaching this technique, that you have also used it for yourself.”
“Naturally.” Almathea nodded. “One should never teach something if they don’t know how it works.”
“And what is the element you’ve discovered your affinity with?”
“It’s actually two of them. Air and earth.” She shrugged. “It makes sense. The exercise uses a combination of a person’s nature and their character to assess the core’s affinity. Air is both a calming element and a destructive one, and earth is nurturing, promotes growth, which is my purpose with all the exercises.”
Severus nodded and seemed to consider what she’d just said. He steepled his fingers in front of his face, a deep frown on his features. “Could you practice the meditation now?”
“What, you mean like right now?” Almathea was a bit flabbergasted, but as Severus nodded, she adjusted her position. She realised there was no way she was going to be comfortable enough for this on the chair. “We should move to the floor, then. I’d suggest the greenhouse, but I don’t think it’s exactly feasible just now.” Then she frowned. “I’d also need to get some things from my rooms.”
Severus indicated for her to do so, a little bit impatiently. Almathea just huffed and was back in ten minutes with her teaching aids. While she’d been away, Severus had moved two pillows to the floor for them to sit on. Almathea crossed her legs on the one Severus wasn’t sitting on and arranged her objects in front of her, and the metronome to the side. She raised her eyes slightly toward Severus, as he was watching her preparations.
“Would you like to try the exercise as well?” she asked tentatively. For some reason, she was fairly sure he wouldn’t want to, but couldn’t contain herself from asking.
It took a few seconds for Severus to consider her question. Just as she was sure the answer was going to be a rejection, Severus conceded with a nod and sat on the pillow just like she had. She replicated the objects in front of him, and began the familiar steps of the meditation under the soothing sound of the metronome, giving occasional instructions to Severus without opening her eyes.
She immediately felt the difference in the room. The atmosphere had grown calm, soothing. Her eyes were closed, but she felt soft brushes of tranquil magic brushing against her consciousness. She was sure Severus would have scoffed at her conclusions, but as she felt the waves of magic from him, she couldn’t help but think they had a healing quality to them. If she had to describe them as a colour, they would be turquoise, with subtle notes of peach. The softness of the peach made her think that maybe that was the Lily in him, those pure emotions of love and friendship that were so deeply buried beneath the surface, beneath his scowls and his open disdain of everything.
She focused on the room inside her mindscape so she could conclude her exercise. As she guided Severus toward his own affinity, she felt her magic flow toward the feather and sand, just like before. They were complementary elements, after all. Suddenly, a vision came over her, of sandstorms and sandworms burrowing in the dunes, deep blue irises and cinnamon scented spice. She opened her eyes abruptly, only to see a floating wire coil, sparking with electricity, in front of Severus, and a wand aimed directly at her face.
“Legilimens!” Severus whispered into the silence and Almathea fell inside her head immediately.
But the experience was nothing like it had been before. She wasn’t a formless mind anymore, being brushed and prodded and inspected by another floating mind. Instead, her mind was full of open sky and burning sun. Her feet were scrunching in golden sand. She looked around, saw that her mind had formed a landscape: dunes all around her, sharp rocky edges in the distance. She felt tendrils of magic trying to vie for her attention, but she was mesmerized. The magic grew insistent, and Almathea was vaguely alerted that perhaps Severus was pushing with extra force against the mindscape, trying to penetrate her mind.
Slight panic gripped her at the fear of pain, just as the mindscape changed and her feet began to sink in the sand. If this was an attack by Severus, then perhaps something different could deter him. Air, she thought. Hot air in the desert. Fast air in the desert. Air so fast, it rips flesh from bones, buries people and loses them forever. Just like she was trying to lose her memories.
She felt darkness build behind her as the desert storm grew. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She lifted her feet from the sand and walked toward the storm. Fear was the mind-killer, and this was her mind. Her mind would protect her. It had always protected her. Her last thought before she entered the storm was how much better Occlumency was when you understood your own mind and were mature enough to know it.
There was peace in the room as Severus’ presence retreated from her mind. Almathea opened her eyes. The wire coil no longer held electricity, but she still smiled and met Severus surprised eyes. “Congratulations, Severus. You’ve discovered an affinity with lightning.”
The surprise left Severus face; his features poised again in his usual neutral expression. He cleared his throat and waved the objects in front of them both toward the table. “Your own effort was also acceptable. The sandstorm was quite effective. And you managed to push me out of your mind faster than I expected.” He was trying very hard to sound unimpressed, but Almathea knew he probably was, a little.
“Did it look like a desert inside my head for you too, or was that just me, and you only saw the sandstorm?” Almathea asked.
“I first saw a grey empty space.” He started explaining. “Then as I pushed against it to access your mind, I felt the wind and the sand gather, and then the darkness and the storm.”
“Then it worked.” Almathea breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll have to practice. Thank you for suggesting the meditation. I actually got the idea with the desert while I was meditating.”
Severus hummed and nodded, and Almathea suddenly felt like their night had come to an end, which was fine. She was exhausted, it was just now sinking in how much energy she’d expended producing the sandstorm in her mind. She bid Severus good night and retreated to her rooms and a dreamless, peaceful sleep.
***
“You realise this exercise is futile if you cannot reproduce it at will whenever you need to?” Severus quirked an eyebrow at her. She hated it when he did that, insufferable little prick.
“I realise that I should exercise constant vigilance, and until then I will exercise constantly.” Almathea offers back, then smirks at the look of absolute rage on Severus’ face.
“You are not treating this seriously, and if this is how you wish to continue, then I see no reason to further waste my time on this exercise that is so meaningless to you.” He threatened. “You were the one who asked for my assistance, were you not?”
Almathea pouted and sipped moodily at her cold tea. Why were they always having cold tea during these lessons? And why was Severus never complaining about it?
“I apologise.” She muttered half-heartedly. “I admit I am… rather distracted today.” She could feel her cheeks heating at the admission.
“If this is to be your confession finally, I daresay you will have more success in having Albus hear it.”
“Oh, you are insufferable. There’s no getting into your good graces today, is there?” Alma leaned back into her chair, her head as far back as she could reach, and closed her eyes. “I am distracted because it’s my birthday today.”
She paused, but the room was silent. Eerily, it was even more silent than earlier, as if Severus had even stopped breathing. “It’s also a year since I’ve been here tomorrow.” She added to fill the silence. “I haven’t told anyone that it’s my birthday. Albus has said nothing, you’ve said nothing, and you two were the only ones who knew.” She played with the hem of her grey sweater and sighed. “Obviously, neither of you remembered. Frankly, I’ve been too… sad to even want to celebrate. I’ve just been… waiting today out, I suppose. Half of me is afraid that I may wake up tomorrow and be back in my bed, twenty-four again, and this would have all just been a dream. The other half is frankly longing for it. And then all day I’ve been walking the grounds, in apparently the warmest weather of Scotland for the season, hoping my birthday magic still works.”
“Birthday magic?” Severus interjected in her tirade.
“Every year, no matter the weather, it snows on my birthday. It’s been happening for as long as I can remember. Sometimes, it’s just ten minutes, other times it’s a full-on blizzard, but it’s always happened.” Alma sighed and slouched more in her chair. “I’m feeling rather forlorn, because it was the only bit of magic, like real magic, that I could claim to my existence before this, and apparently it hasn’t travelled here with me.” She could feel tears prickling at the corner of her eyes, but she was determined not to cry. “I guess it wasn’t really so magical after all.”
The silence stretched, a weight between them in the room like the air had been sucked out with her confession. It became soon obvious to her that Severus didn’t know how to navigate this situation or her emotions, and maybe didn’t even have any inclination to do so. Her decision was easy after that.
“I guess I should have just told you that I wasn’t feeling up to lessons today.” She smoothed her sweater as she got up. “I think it would be best if I retire, I have some essays to get through.”
She was out the door without a good evening. If Severus had cared or noticed her leaving, he hadn’t tried to stop her. She didn’t make for her room, though. She took the stairs to the entrance hall and then outside in the grounds. She muttered a warming charm under her breath and began to walk toward the Quidditch pitch. It was dark and rather cold, and she hated it, the oppressive darkness. But she didn’t light her way at all, even though she could feel a familiar panic rising in the back of her mind. She welcomed the silence that the darkness brought, the way it opened her up to introspection.
She took the stairs toward the Slytherin stands and sat there, in the cold and the dark, thinking about this year that had passed since she’d come here. The magic that she had learned and invented. She conjured her magic whirlwind ball and toyed with it, trying to see if she could manipulate it into rolling away. Her original inspiration was a static piece of magic, but this type of magic was different and she had subsequently different expectations from it. Different expectations from herself altogether.
She couldn’t understand why she had never mentioned it was her birthday to anyone. Back home, she used to start announcing it a week before the actual event, she was so excited for it. But here… Who was there to be excited with her? She supposed she had friends. Certainly the other teachers were all always so very kind to her. Dumbledore had also been rather pleasant recently, and she did share the occasional glass of wine or cup of tea with Severus, even if she would never dare call him a friend to his face. The students also seemed to enjoy her lessons and they were always well behaved. But in truth, there was no one that would care if she was a year older or younger amongst them all. No one but her.
“It’s far too cold to be outside at this hour and as underdressed as you are.” She heard Severus’s drawl behind her. “Even if it isn’t snowing.”
“I have a wand.” She retorted as he sat down. “Warming charms.” She offered by way of an extra explanation.
“Surprised you remembered them. You’re usually not all that accustomed to using common magic.” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“It’s not common magic, it’s more like common sense. I don’t want to freeze and I don’t want to go inside and get a coat, so warming charms.” At this point she perhaps should have mustered a smile, but she didn’t have it in her.
A small shot glass floated in front of her face, full of a measure of firewhiskey. “What, no mead? Really, you’re not much of a date, Snape.”
She was amused to see the corner of Severus’ mouth tug in something like a half smile. “The one time you should be using my first name, and you decide to be respectful.”
“I figured you might welcome it.” She conceded, shrugging. Why couldn’t she smile?
There was silence as she slowly took sips of her firewhiskey. It was potent, she could feel the unpleasant burn in the back of her throat. It was almost enough to make her choke, but she welcomed it, because it meant she didn’t have to think so hard about what she was feeling. She used to believe that coming here, and meeting everyone, meeting Severus, would be the best thing that could happen in her life. That she would be so incredible, so amazing at magic, that she would astound them all, and they would welcome her with open arms. But her former self, the one that was so desperately in love with Severus, the one that wanted nothing more than to be close to him, she had never realised how important it was to stay. To have family that cared, that remembered your birthday, that welcomed it with you. And sure, maybe in time, if she remained here, she would have people who cared, but the future was such an awfully frightful and fraught thing, she hardly wanted to think that far.
“You should conjure yourself a light.” Severus said and Almathea lifted her eyes to his. “You are afraid of the darkness, are you not?”
It was like a dam broke inside of her. Tears she had worked so hard to keep at bay burst out of her on a sob that tore itself from her throat as if carrying half her soul with it. She hugged her arms over her middle and let the tears fall freely, shaking in her frustration, feeling like she was made of air and brittle bones and emotions that she could hardly contain. She missed everyone and everything like wounds that would never heal, open gashes bleeding out of her eyes and her pores and her heart. They would never heal, never close up and she would never belong. She would forever grieve the life that was stolen from her, the life where she had people that loved her, no matter how many other people would care for her in this new world.
A warm hand landed in the middle of her back, going gently up and down, soothing the tremors in her body. It must mean something, she thought desperately, that he paid so much attention to her, mustn't it? That he knew when she needed a light in the darkness or a drink to silence her ghosts. She wasn’t sobbing anymore, the tears were simply flowing quietly, and she let them. It was liberating. She opened her eyes in time to see a few conjured fairy lights here and there around them, floating to light the area. Severus was severe as he kept close to her, and he hadn’t made a move to hug her, like last Christmas, when they had gone to visit her home, but he had made her fairy lights because she was afraid of the dark, and that meant something, right?
Right?
“In my youth, my mother never told me when my birthday was.” He began as he kept up the soothing motions on her back. “When I finally began Muggle school, I realised that children had a birthday, and I realised which one was mine. I looked in my file to find out. I also realised why my mother never celebrated mine.” He paused as if the next words pained him.
“Because you were poor?” Almathea offered. She knew about poverty too, a bit.
“Because I was unwanted.” He offered harshly. “My parents felt subjugated by my existence, and thus wished that I had never had a birthday to begin with.”
That just about broke Almathea’s heart all over again. Her father may not have wanted a daughter, but he had definitely wanted a child, and he had loved her anyway, even if she was female.
“But then, when I was nine, I became friends with Lily, and she believed that birthdays had to be the most special day in one’s life. So she insisted that if I didn’t celebrate mine, we could at least share hers.”
“Since you both had one in January?” Almathea asked, drying her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Severus nodded and his face, so expressive at that precise moment, took on a pained air.
“Before this year, in January, when you invited me out for drinks and dinner, I had not celebrated my birthday since 1976.” He confessed. “Albus generally sends his congratulations in the form of a bottle of spirits, but January 30th 1976 was the last time someone told me Happy birthday. Until you came along.”
Almathea sighed heavily and allowed herself to push closer to him, fresh tears coming to her eyes. “She was right, you know? Birthdays are special.” He nodded a bit firmly and retreated his hand from her back.
“I know it feels like things will never be normal for you again, Miss Spencer.” He offered as he looked across the Quidditch pitch. “But as you mention quite often, you are here for a reason, for as long as magic decides that you belong. And so, I humbly offer my felicitations to you, Almathea, on surviving twenty-five winters of life. And may you have many more in front of you.”
Almathea’s heart swelled and a soft, shy smile spread across her face. Merlin, she loved him so much! The kindness of him, so well hidden, and at this moment only for her eyes, as precious and ephemeral as snowflakes. She made a motion as if to hug him, but her eyes were drawn to the sky as the smell in the wind shifted. It smelled like snow. And sure enough, she felt the first frosty flake settle on her upturned palm in just a matter of moments.
Her eyes sparkling, she lifted from the stands and rushed down the stairs to the middle of the pitch. By then, the snow had picked up and was coming in large, luminous flakes all around her. Severus had followed close behind, watching as she spun in the middle of the falling snow, flakes settling in her amber hair, so watery they melted straight away. This snow would not settle, and it would probably be a few more days before a proper blizzard coated the grounds in white, but she had been right. It was still her birthday, and it had snowed. Her former life and even her person may be Muggle, but at least in this moment, she was convinced that there was magic in her.
That she was magic.