Lily’s Smile
Leaning as far out the bedroom window as he dared, Harry stood silently absorbing every detail of a private conversation between Snape and Professor Dumbledore that, when it ended, left him feeling like he did not understand anything anymore. For he couldn’t see any motive that would compel Snape to turn down any opportunity to get Harry out of his house and he had just done exactly that. Even more, he had proclaimed to care for nothing outside of ending Lord Voldemort and keeping him, Harry, safe. All for reasons that seemed to make perfect sense to Dumbledore, but escaped Harry.
Snape had loathed him for four years. He had certainly never missed an opportunity to criticize him or even suggest that he be expelled from Hogwarts. Yet he was now allowing him to live under his roof and even telling Dumbledore that he should have done more to ensure Harry’s welfare at the Dursleys. How could such contrasting truths coexist in such a brave, but bitter man? This spy for the Order, who was his protector, and childhood friend of his mother - but who had expressed such undeniable sorrow in his voice when speaking with Dumbledore just now about his treatment at the hands of Harry’s own father and godfather. There were just too many contradictions and each new discovery led to even more questions.
“What are you doing there, Potter?”
Harry had waited at the top of the stairs for Snape to make his excruciatingly slow procession back into the house. It was a pitiful sight to behold - the way that Snape dragged his body across the floor, leaning heavily on his walking stick, and positively gasping for breath with every effort. This was a man who’d been tortured by Voldemort and who’d recovered only to subject himself to the same abuses again. He had all but collapsed on his bed in the living room, and used his last morsel of energy to call up the stairs to the boy he’d caught witnessing his struggle.
“Nothing,” said Harry, after he’d slowly descended the staircase to face his professor.
Snape glared up at him in suspicion, but Harry didn’t care. The professor had turned down the chance to kick him out and therefore could hardly object to Harry moving freely about the house. He wasn’t a prisoner, and though it was much more awkward to be there when Snape was aware of him, rather than unconscious, he decided that he wasn’t going to let that bother him. Not when he had so many other things currently preoccupying him.
“Thank you for letting me stay here, sir,” Harry said awkwardly. “And for blocking my mind. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of this connection and I don't mind taking the potion - I think it's brilliant actually - and I'm going to work hard to learn Occlumency too.”
“Potter, how much of my conversation with Dumbledore did you eavesdrop on just now?” Snape demanded, his black eyes flashing dangerously.
“I - I didn’t,” Harry sputtered awkwardly, though of course it was obvious that he had. Why else would he suddenly be expressing uncharacteristic gratitude to Snape? “I mean…you both knew I was here, right?”
“Indeed,” said Snape. He’d have probably wanted to kill Harry right about now if he’d been in a better state, but of course that would have gone against his whole prerogative of being. And Harry doubted he’d even be able to stand up unassisted a second time tonight without serious struggle. “And we haven’t practiced your Occlumency once today.”
“What? I mean…no,” Harry frowned. “You're ill…injured. I wouldn’t expect you to -”
“The Dark Lord does not strike when it's most convenient to us,” Snape replied. “Go get your wand and return here.”
Harry was confused but knew better than to argue. He hurried back upstairs and grabbed his wand before returning promptly to the living room as fast as he could. Snape hadn’t moved from the bed and it appeared that he intended to give this entire lesson lying down. It did nothing to make him seem less intimidating, however. In truth, his pathetic state made Harry even more anxious about what they were about to do. What if Snape was injured even further during this attempt?
“No stinging hexes this time, Potter,” Snape said suddenly, as though he had read his mind. “And I’d appreciate it if you tried not to throw me back physically either.”
“But I didn’t mean to last time,” Harry replied. “It just happened.”
“If you work out how to propel me with your mind, then you won't need to opt for your wand,” Snape replied. “Recall how you fought off the Imperius Curse….Legilimens!”
Harry hadn’t been expecting the attack and was immediately swept up into his memories. He was flying over the clouds on Buckbeak the Hippogriff. Then the scene changed and he was running as fast as he could across the schoolyard with his cousin Dudley and his gang chasing after him, jeeringly taunting him. Another flash and his Aunt Marge had whacked him hard in the shin with a cane like the one on the floor at Snape’s feet. Harry’s eyes had instantly watered with phantom pains when he was suddenly pulled back to the present.
Snape had called off the spell and was glaring at him. He looked ridiculous in his sick bed, dressed in pajamas that Harry knew concealed many layers of bandages. Yet Snape’s impatience with him seemed to be doing wonders for his alertness. He no longer resembled the man who’d scarcely been capable of opening his eyes earlier that day.
“You didn’t even try,” Snape said. “I thought you wanted to learn Occlumency, Potter? I thought you appreciated -”
“You didn’t give me a chance to get ready, so stop it,” Harry said angrily.
“And can you really look at me in this condition and think that the Dark Lord is going to give you until the count of three before he strikes?” Snape whispered. “Do you think this is a game?”
“Of course not, but -’
Snape had raised his wand once again and Harry was pulled back in his own mind. It was yesterday and he was feeling triumphant, having just hexed Snape with the stinging jinx he’d been instructed not to use this time; a red angry welt appearing on Snape’s arm. Then he was running through the maze in the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, the glowing cup up ahead and Cedric sprinting ahead. Harry didn’t want to think about Cedric right now and successfully twisted his thoughts in a different direction. He was watching Lily and James Potter dancing together inside a framed photograph that Hagrid had given him, when Snape called off the spell this time.
“What do you call that, Potter?” he asked quietly. “You’re not doing anything. You’re supposed to be attempting to clear your mind.”
“Well, I’m finding it a bit difficult to do that right now,” Harry snapped.
“Because you’re concentrating on things that don’t concern you,” said Snape.
“Actually, no,” Harry clapped back in frustration. “I think it does concern me, but I don’t expect you to care! I found out the other day that you knew my mum and all I’ve ever wanted is to know about her. Nobody ever talks about her. Aunt Petunia never would and I know better than to ask you. And I’m trying to learn Occlumency but you put the spell on me and suddenly a memory of a photograph of her is at the center of my mind and I don’t want to push it away because it’s all I have.”
He could tell that he had caught Snape entirely off guard with his honesty and for once the man seemed to be at a loss for words. The silence between them was heavy and significant, and the longer it lasted, the worst Harry expected Snape’s response to be. But when the professor finally spoke, it was in a calm and carefully measured voice. “Let’s try again, shall we? This time, I want you to use ‘Protego’ to attempt to repel me.”
“Right,” said Harry awkwardly.
There was something dangerous glittering in Snape’s black eyes right now. Like he had some sort of trick up his sleeve that was to be discovered in due course. But Harry couldn’t see any way around this next round and figured if he could just get through it, Snape would surely pass out from sheer exhaustion and be forced to leave him alone for another day or so.
“Legilimens,” Snape cast the spell in a strong voice that betrayed none of his current weakness.
Harry was in a wave of his own memories yet again. Back at Hogwarts, kneeling in front of the Gryffindor Fire as he spoke to Sirius. He was flying in the black sky high above Spinner’s End. Draco Malfoy flashed his Potter Stinks badge at him from across the dungeon when Snape’s back was turned - and now fueled by indignation, Harry pulled back from his memories.
“Protego!” he cried, and Snape’s Legilimency Curse instantly rebounded. To Harry, it felt like he was suddenly jolting forward and pushing through the black orb of Snape’s eyes. He was flying through a dark tunnel, a bit perturbed about why he was being allowed to go this far. Why Snape hadn’t bothered to react or pull him back yet….
Though Harry could tell that Snape’s Occlumency defenses were up. Upon breaking into Snape’s mind, he was privy to nothingness; just the peculiarity of stillness and silence. An example of what Harry was supposed to be learning to do, until he saw an unexpected stream of sunshine - Snape willingly opening a window into the house of his memories…
Harry’s feet landed with a soft thud in a bed of golden sand and he shielded his eyes from the light that blinded him, staring out at a dark blue lake with aggressive waves pushing up onto the shore. This beach was vacant, surrounded by a forest of trees. There was no sign of Snape, but as this was his memory he had to be here. Harry looked around confused by this solitary place, and then he heard the sound of footsteps crunching on twigs.
Harry turned his head and his eyes widened as he saw a boy, who looked to be no older than twelve, rushing from the forest towards him. His black hair, hook nose, and sallow untanned skin left Harry no question about who this was. He was wearing a baggy old t-shirt that might belong to a grown man and a pair of old jeans he’d cut into shorts. A young Severus Snape rushed past Harry unable to see him, but Harry had already turned his attention to the girl emerging from the thicket right behind him. Long windblown tangled red hair and striking bright green eyes. It was his mother.
Lily was clutching a stitch in her side and appeared to be tiring, but she fixed Snape’s back with a coy smile and raced forward in a sudden mad sprint. “Got you!” she cried, as she leapt directly onto his back.
Snape crumbled under her weight, knobbly knees dropping into the hot sand as he did something Harry could never have pictured Snape doing in a million years and started laughing. He playfully shrugged Lily off of himself and she rolled onto her back in the sand, as she too burst into laughter.
“Let’s hide out here for the rest of the day,” said Lily, once she had caught her breath. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
Harry felt exactly the same way. His eyes were glued on her and he thought he might like to just watch her for the rest of his life and that that would always be enough for him.
He followed closely as Lily took Snape by the hand and pulled him towards the water’s edge. There they rushed into it without hesitation; splashing, chasing, and diving into the rough waves that tried to shove them back to shore. Their laughter was infectious as they called back and forth to one another, and Harry couldn’t resist grinning as he watched them.
Only it was over too quickly- the pair becoming further and further away from himself. He actually extended an arm, as though hoping with deepest longing to grip onto his mother’s hand just as easily as she had held onto Snape’s. He didn’t want to leave her, couldn’t bear to look away, but he found himself pulled back into the living room of Spinner’s End anyway.
“No…” the singular word of protest escaped from Harry’s lips before he could stop it.
A grown Snape was still laying in his sickbed without even the slightest flicker of the young happy child that had once played by the water with Harry’s mother remaining. This Snape looked as though the weight of the whole world was on his shoulder and his lips looked white with shock…
He had clearly intended to provide Harry with such access before they’d even begun their Occlumency practice tonight - a morsel of compassion briefly triumphing above bitterness and dislike. Harry was mesmerized by what he had seen - what Snape had intentionally shown him as he’d responded to Harry in the most beautiful of ways. He had given Harry a glimpse of his mother; her talent, sense of wonder, the way she had just radiated pure joy, and the genuine affection she’d had for her friend.
“Let’s leave it there for tonight, Potter,” said Snape weakly.
Harry hesitated, observing the sick and wounded man laying in bed. “Can't I do anything for you, sir?”
But Snape just gave a dismissive jerk of his hand towards the hall, which appeared to have cost him all the energy that remained him. Harry watched his eyes fall closed and observed his chest rise and fall evenly with every breath as he entered a deep sleep, totally spent.
Not sure what else to do, Harry turned to leave the room. The sound of Lily’s laughter was still ringing in his ears and he could see the mischievous sparkle in her bright green eyes. It left him yearning for even more of her; but forever grateful to Snape for sharing this beautiful memory with him. The warmth and fullness in Harry’s heart as he went back upstairs and climbed into bed made him feel confident that he could block out any bad thought right now. For he would never forget his mum’s smile.