Walk the Shadows

able to discern his surroundings again, and his gaze settled on Harry, who was curled in a ball and rocking silently, eyes squeezed shut.

Fuck.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few long, deep breaths. Well. He'd really screwed the crup this time. What was he thinking, to force these memories to the fore? He had quite probably just undone several weeks worth of work.

Had the stone been the only thing keeping Harry from going into shock? With memories like those -- many of which he had not witnessed first time around -- it was no wonder the boy wanted to hide them away. But it wasn't healthy, and they had to be dealt with. Though he might have wanted to handle them slowly, over time, that was impossible now.

Still on his knees, he inched toward Harry until he was practically, but not quite, touching the boy's drawn-up calves. 'Harry,' he said softly. 'Open your eyes, please.'

A tremor went through the boy, but there was no other reaction. Bracing himself and sharpening his tone, he tried a different tack. 'Potter, it's time to get up now. No more of this lazing about.'

The rocking stilled briefly and the boy's shoulders tightened.

Taking this as a good sign, Severus continued in that vein, 'We still have work to do, and it's unconscionable that you're slacking off like this.'

Harry's head jerked a nod, and he finally opened his eyes. 'M'sorry, Uncle,' came a breathless whisper. 'Sorry . . .' His hands fumbled at the floor, in an attempt to push himself upright. 'Weeds?' he asked. 'Or paint the shed? M'sorry, I forget . . .'

Startled, Severus didn't respond at once. What fresh hell was this? Harry's gaze was unfocused when he turned to face him, and Severus rose awkwardly to his feet and reached to pull Harry up, too.

The boy's arm came up to block him, quicker than thought. 'Sorry, Uncle Vernon, I . . . I remember. It was weeding, wasn't it? Please, Uncle, I'm sorry . . .'

'Harry,' Severus said, trying to keep his voice calm despite his own rising distress. 'I am not your uncle.'

The confusion on the boy's face would have been humorous, under other circumstances. Now, though, it was very troubling. 'Just come over here and sit down,' he said, and was gratified when the boy launched himself to his feet, a feeling that was short lived, however, when Harry plopped himself down on the floor in the corner a moment later. Wrapping his arms around his knees, Harry put his forehead down atop them. His whole body was tense, even his fingers as they twined together.

Severus watched him for a few minutes. Harry had replaced one way of forgetting for another, and this one was . . . untenable. For one thing, he refused to be identified, no matter what the delusional capabilities of this wounded child, as the Muggle uncle who had locked him in a cupboard and starved him. Thus . . .

In a few short strides, he was crouched once more in front of the boy. 'Harry,' he said, using the sharp, commanding tone that seemed to work. 'Look at me. It's Professor Snape.'

Harry's head came up and the heat of anger lit his eyes. 'If you'd just tell me, Uncle, I could do the work. Please, I'll do it right, I swear.'

'I am not your uncle,' Severus told him again. 'You are in my quarters, at Hogwarts, and you have not been at Privet Drive for some time. Listen to me.'

'I heard you,' Harry insisted. 'But I still don't know--'

'I haven't given you a job.' Severus took hold of his arms and glared into the boy's eyes.

The reaction was immediate. Harry's face crumpled and he tried to scoot away, but the wall -- and Severus' grip -- prevented him. 'No, please! I'll be good, Uncle, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to blow up your sister. Dudley's okay, see? The Dementors didn't get him. Please don't--'

'Potter!' Severus shouted. 'You are not at Privet Drive. And I am not your Uncle Vernon! Look at me. Look at me.'

'No, no, no,' Harry shook his head. His hands batted feebly at Severus', and the trembling in them increased, as if just after a bout of Cruciatus. 'Don't touch me, please, please don't. I give up, I swear, all right? I give in, I'm sorry, I'll call you Master. Just please don't . . .' His body went suddenly very still, for a moment that stretched to infinity.

And then he screamed.

Severus let go of him automatically, as if it were his own hands burning, but he did not move from his spot. He quickly summoned a tea towel and pressed it into Harry's hands, needing to first pull them away from the boy's head where he was clawing at his own eyes. Closing the boy's thin fingers around the towel, which Harry immediately began to twist and wrench frantically instead of hurting himself, his voice dropped to a more soothing tone; even his shouting would not be audible over the screaming. 'Harry. It's a clear, beautiful day. Sunny. The sun is warm on your face. Can you feel how warm it is? You . . . you're at the ocean, and the sand between your toes is cool from the water. You can see birds wheeling overhead, when you turn your face to the sun. It's beautiful and calm and you are very safe here. . . .'

How long he repeated the words, he could not say, but he continued long after Harry had screamed himself hoarse, past the point where he merely trembled against the wall, with the tattered towel gripped ferociously in his hands.

Severus was sitting back on his heels, still using the soft words, and trying to figure what else he could do when Harry spoke for the first time. ''S'not.' His voice was as rough as it had been in the memory, and Severus shuddered.

'It's not what?' he asked tiredly.

''S'not beautiful. 'S'cold and damp stone and it hurts.'

Severus took a long, aching breath. 'Tell me what hurts, Harry.'

Tears tracked down Harry's face, but he didn't seem to notice them. His eyes were over bright, and Severus could not tell if he was still stuck in a memory or what. 'What they're doing. Mm, what they