Chapter 22 – Christmas Night

Amelia felt the warmth of Fawkes envelop them and braced herself for the jolt, screwing up her eyes against the movement without relinquishing her grasp on Severus. As their feet hit solid ground, though, the last of his strength seemed to leave him, and he collapsed against her and slid to the floor, his fingers still twisted through the hem of her jumper.

For a short moment, she looked down at the broken man, his head bowed in shame and sadness and his hair sticking to his face with tears. He still hadn't opened his eyes, and she doubted he knew where he was anymore; only that it hurt. Every protective instinct she possessed flared into life, and soundlessly, she knelt at his side and wrapped her arms around him again.

The strangled note of disbelief and joy that broke from his throat was one she wouldn't forget for the rest of her life. Without hesitation, and without daring to look at her, he dropped his head back onto her shoulder and hid his face from the world. She hushed him gently, and cast a murderous glare over his shoulder towards the Headmaster, who was standing behind his desk and staring at them expressionlessly.

When Snape's sobs had quieted and he'd lapsed into a mortified silence against her, she relaxed her grip slightly to better focus on Dumbledore.

"I suppose, Headmaster," she began icily. "You have a reason for bringing us to your office, and not to Severus's quarters?"

Still pressed against her, Snape's body went rigid, and if it was at all possible, he tightened his grip around her still further.

"I think, Miss Bristol, it would be beneficial for us to talk," the Headmaster answered, without a trace of his customary twinkle.

/…/

Severus barely felt the phoenix apparate them away, but as his feet hit the floor his body flared with pain, and his straining muscles finally gave up the fight to keep him upright. Tortured by shame, he sank to his knees, his eyes screwed shut against a reality he could hardly bear to process. It had finally happened: his Occlumency barriers had failed him, and all of the grief he'd kept barricaded behind them was flooding out in a maelstrom of horror he couldn't control. He was weak. He was pathetic. He was a coward.

And yet, he couldn't seem to let go of the one woman so foolish enough to have tried to comfort him. Hating himself more than he'd thought possible, he kept his fingers wrapped through the stitches of her jumper like a child, waiting for the moment she'd disentangle them, and his process of total collapse would be complete.

But then she'd knelt at his side, and wrapped her arms around him again. In that moment, he'd flown to her without a thought, desperate to prolong this fantasy in which someone truly cared for him. He could no more have let go of her than he could have jumped off the Astronomy Tower and lived, and despite the deep self-loathing coursing through every fibre of his body, he knew that he'd stay enfolded in her arms until she, or someone else, forced him to leave.

And then she'd spoken, and panic surged through him like a tidal wave. Albus had brought them to his office, and it could only mean one thing - the Headmaster was furious, and he was going to be punished. Oh, everyone thought that Albus was so benign and forgiving, but Snape was under no illusions about the nature of their agreement. He was afforded the Headmaster's protection, and even his friendship, but only under the strict promise that he was able to carry out his duties as a spy, and Dumbledore had only recently made it clear that that meant putting an end to his association with Amelia.

Swallowing down the years' worth of sobs still building in his throat, he pressed his face still deeper into her shoulder and clung to her like a man drowning. If he had to let go, if he had to be alone, then he would remember every last second of this, even if it meant he'd mourn its passing forever.

"Perhaps you should both take a seat," Albus said, and Amelia shifted beneath him.

Warily, much like a caged animal, Snape opened his stinging eyes and lifted his head from her shoulder. The two chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk moved backwards, awaiting them in silent reproach. With a final loss of hope, he let his arms fall to his sides, and instantly became aware of the pain still thrumming through his body, and the dark, hopeless space now yawning in his chest.

For the first time since she'd hugged him, he stole a glance at Amelia, and was instantly taken aback by the hate-filled stare she was still levelling at Dumbledore.

"Don't you have even the most basic of cares for him?" She shot at the Headmaster, and both men stared at her in confusion.

Gentling her expression as she turned back to face him, she cupped his face tenderly in one hand, and smoothed away the last of his tears. He leaned into her touch, his eyes searching hers desperately for comfort.

"How much pain are you in?" She asked quietly.

He frowned, confused. There were no words to describe the pain he was in, and for once, he didn't know how to answer.

"Is it a lot?" She pressed, and he nodded wordlessly as his jumbled thoughts struggled to understand what she meant.

With a single flick of her wand, the plush sofa at the back of the room sprang into motion, and knocked the hard wooden chairs into a corner. He felt his heart swell, as he realised that she'd done it for him - and that he'd never even thought about doing the same. He'd been so used to collapsing into the unforgiving wood at the end of a meeting with the Dark Lord, that he'd never so much as questioned whether there was a better alternative. From the pained expression on Dumbledore's face, it was clear the older wizard hadn't either.

Still dumbfounded, Snape allowed himself to be helped gently to his feet, but as soon as he tried to walk he found his muscles wouldn't co-operate. He sank back to the ground and bit back a groan of pain, his hand unconsciously seeking out Amelia's as he screwed up his face against the tremors wracking his body.

"It's ok," she whispered softly, her hand rubbing circles on his back again. "You're safe, it's nearly over, you're ok."

If it wasn't for the strength of Dumbledore's presence in the room, he would have wept all over again. Instead, he squeezed her hand tightly and breathed heavily through the pain, his head bowed to hide his face from the man still watching him from across the room.

When he'd finally stopped seeing flashing lights and the pain had receded again, Amelia managed to tow him over to the desk, and he whimpered as she lowered him carefully onto the soft cushions. He sank back into them gratefully, exhaustion settling over him like a dead weight, and he had to fight to keep his eyes open as he leant his head back against the soft fabric.

He looked up anxiously as Amelia's arms left his shoulders and she straightened to her full height, and only the last shreds of his pride prevented him from begging her to stay and to keep holding tightly onto his hand. Now, though, she was gazing at Dumbledore with a fury he'd never seen on her face before, and despite himself, he felt a small thrill of joy that she was doing it all for him.

/…/

"Is there something you'd like to say, Miss Bristol?" Dumbledore asked calmly, and she felt her temper flare, but there was one thing she needed to do first before she let him have a piece of her mind.

"Do you have a store of potions here?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

"I do."

She gritted her teeth, and when she spoke her voice was trembling with rage.

"Then may I suggest, Headmaster, that you fetch me a pain-reliever and a nerve-regeneration potion before Severus collapses entirely?"

The older wizard had the good grace to look shame-faced, but as the summoned potions flew into her outstretched hand, it took all of the self-control she had not to swear in his face. She couldn't believe that this was the kind of "friendship" Severus thought was normal. To be tortured, abused, and then left to suffer in pain until Dumbledore had got the report he wanted. It was unthinkable. It was barbaric. At the moment, though, he was her first priority.

Un-stoppering the pain reliever first, she perched on the arm of the sofa and slipped a hand behind the Potion Master's head for support.

"Drink this," she said gently. "You'll feel better soon."

Obediently, and with a look of such gratitude that it very nearly broke her heart, he allowed her to tip the contents of the vial into his mouth, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips as it began to take effect.

She did the same with the other vial, and when she was done, she watched as his legs stopped twitching and an expression of peace flitted over his face.

"Better?" She asked.

He turned his head to face her, and the appreciation and surprise in his eyes as he nodded made her throat burn with sadness. Despite the potions, it was clear he was still incapable of moving, or really of saying anything much at all, and the realisation redoubled her anger. She turned to face the Headmaster, her expression thunderous.

"Say what you have to say, Albus, but don't think for one moment that I don't have something to say too."

Albus considered her for a long second, his expression thoughtful, and when he began to speak, Snape braced himself for the onslaught.

"I understand that you and Severus have become friends," he began. "And I know that to you, the things he must suffer are unforgivable."

Amelia folded her arms and bit down hard to prevent herself from interrupting.
"However," Dumbledore continued forcefully. "The role Severus plays is one that's vital to us all. Without the information he brings us, this war may be lost before it has even begun. I am far from ignorant of the pain he suffers to do this, and he has had both my greatest respect and my truest friendship for a great many years now."

"But?" Amelia pressed, knowing that it was to come.

"But, although you may think you are doing him a kindness, you must be aware that you are putting him in more danger every time you seek to force your friendship upon him."

Both Amelia and Snape opened their mouths to protest, but Dumbledore held up his hands.

"I don't mean to say that Severus doesn't want your friendship, Miss Bristol. To me, as it must be to you, it's all too clear that he does."

At this, Severus felt an embarrassed blush tinge his cheeks and he dropped his face to his hands.

"But ask yourself, truthfully, just what has this friendship brought him so far? He risked his life to bring you safely to this castle, not just in the fire, but in the lies he was forced to tell Voldemort about his involvement."

Amelia shifted uncomfortably, knowing it to be true.

"By monopolising his time in the first few weeks you were here – which, I have to say, I encouraged – you led him to neglect his duties, and he was tortured by Voldemort, again, when he was unable to provide him with information about you."

Guilt curdled in her stomach, and she shot a glance towards Severus, who was studiously avoiding her gaze. He hadn't mentioned that to her.

"And after you were attacked, Severus risked his life, yet again, to bring you out of your mind and back into our world. And what did you do then?"

She felt her face burn with shame, and this time, she was the one avoiding Snape's pained expression.

"I distanced myself from him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied.

Steeling herself, she raised her gaze to face the wounded expression of the man beside her.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. "It wasn't that I didn't want to see you."

He looked away, hardly daring to hope that it was true, and she moved swiftly to capture his hand with her own. He didn't return her grip, or turn back to face her, but she knew that he was listening.

"It's just that, after I woke up, I didn't know who I was anymore. Everything I thought I knew about myself had been blown apart, and every time I closed my eyes I remembered what they did to me, and…"

She paused, struggling to find the words that wouldn't hurt him.

"And you'd seen all of it, too," she whispered at last, and he closed his eyes as though in physical pain. "Whenever you looked at me, I knew that you were remembering it, and I couldn't bear to have you think of me like that."

Snape made as though to pull his hand away, his expression stricken, but she clung on more tightly and moved even closer to him.

"No, please, just listen," she pleaded, and he stilled momentarily, but continued to avoid her gaze. "I wasn't sure I could be a friend to you when I didn't know who I was anymore, and I was scared that I'd hurt you if I got too close when I didn't know whether or not it was the right thing or not – for either of us."

He stared off to the side, but didn't try to pull away again.

"The morning after you woke up, though, I'd made up my mind to come and see you and talk it through," he flicked his eyes towards her before looking away again. "But then, I ran into Harry, and…"

She saw shame colour his cheeks and he made as if to pull away again, but she held him fast.

"It's true, I wasn't sure what to think," she said gently, and he closed his eyes in torment. "But while I was with the Weasleys, I couldn't stop thinking about you. And when Dumbledore said you were coming after spending the day with him…"

She could feel Snape trembling against her, and tears filled her eyes again. She squeezed his hand gently, but he didn't respond.

"Oh, Severus, I was so worried," she drew a shaky breath in, her voice thick with emotion. "And when you arrived there, and you were so clearly in so much pain." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she felt him shift infinitesimally towards her. "I knew then, that no matter what, I wanted you to be safe, and more than that… I knew that no matter what happened, I wanted to be there for you. In whatever way you needed me to be."

Silence descended over the room, and she could almost see the internal war he was waging with himself. She held her breath, her eyes brimming with tears, and then without warning, his hand closed tightly around hers, and he tugged her roughly from her perch on the arm of the chair. She slipped into his lap and immediately wrapped her arms around him tightly. He returned her action in kind, his face pressed into her neck and his whole body trembling with repressed emotion.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear. "Can you forgive me?"

His only answer was to hold her tighter, and she pressed a soft kiss to his temple and pretended not to notice the flash of fear in his eyes as she did.

They would have stayed that way all night, were it not for the man sitting opposite them. When they finally pulled apart, Amelia remained sitting on Severus's knee, one hand clasped tightly around his as she glared defiantly at the Headmaster. Albus steepled his fingers together and sighed.

"You misunderstand me, Miss Bristol," he said resignedly. "I don't doubt your feelings for each other – far from it, in fact."

"Then what's the problem?" She challenged. "Surely, he needs all the support he can get, if you're determined to have him play this role for much longer?"

At this, Dumbledore got to his feet, anger in the lines of his face.

"Do not simplify this for your own ends, Amelia!" He said, his voice thunderous. "Think, I implore you. Really, and truly think about what this would mean. You've seen what Voldemort is capable of if he isn't obeyed implicitly, and for the first time in fifteen years, tonight, Severus's Occlumency shields have failed him. Did you ever stop to think about why this time was different? Or about what it could mean if they fail him again in Voldemort's presence?"

Amelia paled, and she felt Severus stiffen beneath her as she struggled to find her voice.

"You mean, that they failed because of me? That if I'm here, then he's more vulnerable?"

Dumbledore sagged wearily back into his seat, real sadness in his eyes for the first time.

"Yes," he said sadly. "That is exactly what I mean. Sometimes, in a war, we can't afford to let those we care about grow too close to us. While love and friendship are what we are fighting for, they can also be our downfall."

Here he turned to face Severus, who was watching him with a stricken expression on his face.

"My boy," the Headmaster said softly. "You've been alone for so long – by your own design more than any rules that I placed upon you – and it used to pain me greatly. When Amelia first arrived here I was delighted that you'd finally seen fit to open your heart to someone, but seeing what it's wrought… I thought perhaps you were over-zealous in your attempts to prevent anyone from getting close to you, but now I see that the best of you that you've always kept hidden, is also the most dangerous."

Snape dropped his gaze from Dumbledore's, the truth of the man's words seeming to burn him from the inside. He'd known it; he'd known that he was unworthy, that the simple pleasures other people found so easy were closed to him. But somehow, it was worse, now that he'd dared to hope. But the Headmaster kept going, his voice, though gentle, piercing Snape like a knife.

"You do not give your trust or your love easily, my boy, but when you do, you do so fiercely. It is, perhaps, your greatest strength, but with the barriers you must erect to keep Voldemort from entering your mind, it is also perhaps your greatest weakness. Why else would it be that Occlumency has failed you now?"

He felt as though his world had been ripped apart. The truth in Dumbledore's words was too much. He felt nausea rise into his throat, his body trembling with the effort it took to keep his emotions in check. All he wanted was to be held, to have someone put their arms around him and whisper that it would all be ok, that he wasn't going to be alone anymore, and that somebody cared; not about the role he had to play, not about the secrets he could give them, but about him, and only him. Was that too much to ask?

But even as Amelia tightened her grip on his hand and draped an arm around his shoulder to rub lightly against his back, he knew that Dumbledore was right. With her there, the temptation to flee into the protection of her arms and tell the rest of the world to leave him alone, was too great. He couldn't afford to lose focus in front of the Dark Lord, to do so would be suicide. And that meant… He drew a shuddering breath in and met Dumbledore's gaze, his expression tortured, but his voice steady.

"You're right, Albus," he said tonelessly, even as Amelia tensed against him. "If I am to continue in my role as a spy, there cannot be any weak points for the Dark Lord to gain access. I…" He swallowed thickly. "I apologise for my behaviour this evening. It was inexcusable, and I assure you it won't happen again."

As he spoke, he slipped his hand from Amelia's, feeling her loss as though someone had died, and wishing desperately that she would move away from him before he lost his nerve altogether. Dumbledore's eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Oh, my poor boy," he said. "I am truly sorry."

Silence enveloped the room. Severus closed his eyes against his grief, memorising the feel of Amelia's body still perched across his knees, and bracing himself for the moment she would leave. For a long time, no-one spoke, and then:

"No."

His eyes flew open in surprise, and he looked up to see Amelia gazing at Dumbledore as though she'd never seen him before.

"How dare you?" she asked softly. "How dare you allow him to think such rubbish?"

She got to her feet, her hands shaking with anger.

"Why is it that friendship makes Harry stronger, but Severus weaker?" She asked dangerously, and Snape's brow furrowed in confusion. "Did you ever stop to think that it might be precisely because he's always been so isolated that he needs to Occlude all of the time? That not having anyone around who will listen to or support him, is why his shields are constantly in place, not just when he's with Voldemort?

At this, Dumbledore looked outraged.

"I have always supported Severus!" He began, but Amelia cut him off with a humourless laugh.

"Yes, but not for him!" She said, the outrage plain on her face. "Oh, you support him, Albus. I have no doubt that you may even care for him, but it's not for who he is. Not really. Your first priority, as you've demonstrated to great effect tonight, is always for the information he can bring you – for what he can do to further the cause of the Light. Have you ever come to him simply to talk? To ask about his day? To discern, really and truly, whether he needs support? Or have you simply allowed him to continue, day after day, with no-one to vent to, no-one to listen to his fears, while you send him on these barbaric missions knowing that he'll be harmed?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to argue, but as Snape watched, the truth of his culpability seemed to hit him, and the old man fell silent.

"Exactly," Amelia hissed. "What you saw tonight, I've no doubt was over a decades' worth of fear and hurt finally breaking through. And why? Simply because someone hugged him, Albus!"

Her voice broke, and she turned to face Severus, who found himself reaching for her hand and clasping it in his own, hope warring with the fear in his heart.

"When was the last time you talked to anyone, Severus? When was the last time someone asked you how you were without wanting something from you in return?"

He blanched, knowing what the answer was but hardly daring to voice it. It was Lily. The last time someone had cared, it was Lily.

"Seventeen years ago," he whispered hoarsely. "It's been seventeen years."

Before he could react, with a cry of outrage, Amelia had swooped down on him and pulled him into her chest. His throat constricted and he twisted his fingers through her jumper, his body starting to tremble again.

Please, he thought desperately. Please don't leave me. But he didn't dare voice it out-loud.

What if Dumbledore was right? What if he couldn't perform his duty unless he was alone? But as Amelia's fingers wound their way gently through his hair again, he knew it wasn't a decision he could make. If the Headmaster forbade him from having her in his life, then he would cut her off, and never see her outside of their lessons. If it was Dumbledore's choice, he could do it. But if it wasn't, then he knew that he wouldn't be able to make the same choice himself, quite simply because it would cause him too much pain – and pain was the one thing he'd had altogether too much of.

"Well, Albus?" Amelia asked defiantly, and Snape raised his head to look at his mentor pleadingly. "What will it be?"

Silence. He held his breath as the Headmaster observed them, and then the old man shook his head and slumped back in his chair.

"I don't know," he said heavily. "I confess, I don't know what's for the best anymore."

He paused and looked penetratingly towards him.

"Severus? What do you think?"

His head span. He looked up into Amelia's eyes, her expression gentle with concern and her fingers still trailing lightly through his hair.

Finally, he spoke the one thing he knew to be true.

"I don't want to be on my own anymore."

/…/

Hope you're enjoying this so far! Do me a favour and hit the review button, yeah?