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I. Sleep
It had all been Sirius’ idea. In retrospect, James thought, that should have been an indication that it couldn’t possibly end well, but the temptation to finally figure out what had happened to Snape –and possibly even have him reversed to his adult form– had been too strong.
The plan had seemed simple, too. James had never heard about the existence of the Memento Memoriam potion, but once Sirius had explained how it worked, he’d known it was exactly what they needed. Memento Memoriam, read Lily’s old Potions book, unveils even the deepest memories, allowing both the brewer and the drinker to revisit them in the form of dreams and interact with them. It was created in 1765 by Pandora Pemberton, who sought to overcome the limitations of the Pensieve, which famously allows revisitation of memories but not interaction.
“This means,” Sirius had said, bright-eyed, “that if we give it to the brat, we not only get to see how adult Snivellus got turned into a child, but we also get to ask him whatever we want!”
James hadn’t been so excited at first, but it didn’t take too much insistence to overcome his reluctance. There had only been one major disagreement: Sirius intended to slip the potion in the child’s food “to catch him unawares”. James had refused, even though he had been unable to explain his reasons to his friend.
“It’s Snape we are talking about,” Sirius had argued. “Even if the whole not-remembering-anything is not a façade, once he remembers he’ll go back to being the bastard we know he is. You owe him nothing.”
James had been about to argue that, according to Dumbledore, that wasn’t entirely true, but this was something he didn’t feel comfortable talking about yet, not even with Sirius. Instead, he resorted to a sure-fire argument: Lily would be livid if she found out they’d given Snape a potion without his consent. Sirius hadn’t been able to argue against that – and not even he was daft enough to consider hiding the whole thing from her.
Lily had flat-out rejected the idea when Sirius exposed it, adducing there was no reason to play with the kid's mind. Things would have probably ended there, had not James pointed out that maybe it should be Snape who made the decision. After this, Lily had acquiesced – but she had refused to get involved.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take much to convince the child.
“So it will help me find out where my mother is?” he had asked.
“I can’t tell,” James had replied, suppressing a pang of guilt. “But it will help you remember what happened before you woke up, whatever that is.”
“And you’ll see it, too?”
James’ nod made the child hesitate, clearly uncomfortable with the thought.
“Will — will Lily be there?”
“No. Just me." And then, because it felt wrong not to mention it: "She doesn't like the idea. Although maybe if you ask her—"
The boy’s jaw tensed.
“No. It's okay.”
"Seriously, I’m sure she'll change her mind if you—"
“I said no! She doesn’t need to see nothing! I won’t do it if she’s there!”
As usual after one of his outbursts, Snape’s expression went from outrage to panic in just a matter of seconds. James sighed.
“Okay, okay, that’s fine by me. No need to be dramatic about it. All we care about is finding out what happened that night, anyway.”
That had settled it.
And so, three weeks later, James found himself sitting on the floor of Snape’s bedroom, ready to take a gulp of a viscous, purplish potion that smelled like chalk and cut grass. Sirius had helped him brew it, because Lily was still intent on not having anything to do with it, but James knew she had been supervising the end result once they had left the basement. She was now in bed with Harry, after having checked in on Snape to ensure he hadn’t changed his mind. He hadn’t. Now, sitting in his bed, Snape smelled his own vial, his surly expression even more suspicious than usual.
“Will I fall asleep immediately?” he asked.
“Dunno. We’ll have to find out.”
Snape didn’t react, but his hesitation was eloquent enough.
“Look, if I wanted to poison you, I would have done it already,” James exploded. He ignored the kid’s poisonous glance. “Just think about the last thing you remember before Dumbledore found you, and then drink the damn potion. Or don’t, if you don’t trust me. Either way, let’s just stop wasting time.”
He half expected him to throw the vial at him and have one of his temper tantrums. Part of him would have even felt relief if he had. But instead, Snape –paler than usual and with trembling hands— closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, seemingly deep in thought, and then he resolutely drained the vial in one long gulp.
As it turned out, he did fall asleep immediately. James grabbed the empty vial before it fell to the carpet and put it on the nightstand. He hesitated for a second, then downed his own share of the potion. His tongue tingled, and then he felt nothing.
II. Dream
The first thing he sensed was the smell. Damp, but not in a mouldy, dungeon-like way. Rather, it reminded James of clothes that have been stored before being completely dry, or carpeted rooms where the heating is seldom used.
That thought made him remember what he had been doing and he opened his eyes with a start. It was still night and the lights were off, but the moonlight entering through the window was enough to allow him to see he was indeed in a carpeted room. He could distinguish a narrow bed and an even narrower wardrobe, and a still frowning Snape looking pitifully small back in the old, ill-fitting clothes he had been wearing when James had first seen him.
The wizard drew his wand and pretended not to notice that Snape had flinched at the motion.
"Lumos," he muttered, and pointed the light across the room. When it fell on Snape, it showed that his old bruises were also back. And, judging by the way he self-consciously moved away from the light, he too was aware of it. In fact, something resembling shame clouded his expression for a second, before he bent his head and the shadows hid his face.
A sense of foreboding invaded James then, mixing with the familiar dislike for the child and leaving him tense and uneasy. He felt the urge to fill the silence.
"All right, say something. Did it work? Is this the last thing you remember before Dumbledore?"
At first it seemed Snape wouldn't answer. Then he nodded once, reluctantly.
"Think so."
"What do you mean, 'think so'? Either it worked, or it didn't."
The boy frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of glass shattering somewhere outside the room prevented him from doing so.
There was an instant of complete silence. And then, a voice.
"Goddamit! Eileen! Come clean this up!"
"Who the hell..." James began, in a whisper, but he trailed off at the sight of Snape. The child's back was glued to the wall, his eyes so wide James could see the white of them even in the darkness of the room. He paused, then asked again, already suspecting the answer: "What was that?"
Snape's voice was barely audible, and yet his words seemed to float in the room after being said, the ghost of a sound.
"My father."
James cursed.
"Your father? We were supposed to see what happened before Dumbledore—"
"Eileen! Where the fuck are you?"
James whispered a quick "nox" and his wand's light disappeared. In the pale glow of the moonlight, he saw the kid's Adam’s apple rise and fall as he gulped. A speck of concern — for Snape, of all people— creeped into his conscience, but was quickly pushed away by his annoyance. All that effort, all those whispered arguments with Lily, all for nothing.
He made an effort to rein in his temper. Perhaps there was still hope. Perhaps they could move the dream forward. He motioned for silence, then kneeled in front of Snape.
"All right, focus. I need you to remember what happens after this, but before Dumbledore."
The kid stared blankly at him, as if James had been speaking in an unknown tongue.
"Fucking bitch, just wait until you get home, then you'll see. And where is the little rat? Boy! Come here!"
"Don't answer," James warned, but he needn't have bothered. Snape seemed completely frozen, like a deer caught in headlights. The analogy made James frown.
"Come on, mate, I need you to think, okay? When did you first hear Dumbledore?"
Snape only blinked and shook his head, still silent.
James was running out of ideas. The only way to exit the dream was for the memory to end or for someone to wake them out from the outside. None of those options seemed about to happen for the time being, and James had no wish for either of them to have to interact with a dream version of Snape’s father.
He took a deep breath and tried to put his hands on the kid's shoulders, but the little prat took a step back as if he had been touched with a red-hot iron. His mistrustful look was back, and this made James irrationally angry. Trying to rein in his temper, he grabbed Snape's wrist in an attempt to get close enough to look him in the eye. Like an eel, the boy twisted himself to break free from his hold. His eyes were wide open and his fists clenched. He had finally reacted, but not as James would have liked.
"Don't," he began. "I just need you to try and remember—"
But it was too late. Just as he had feared, the kid's temper exploded.
"Piss off! I don't remember shit! Just leave me alone, you shouldn't even be here!"
A dense silence ensued. Snape clasped his mouth with his hands, slowly realising what he had just done. James stepped back, shaking his head in annoyance.
“Why do you always—"
A new wave of yells from outside the room stopped him from finishing the sentence.
"Boy! What the hell are you doing?! Do something useful for once in your life and come clean this mess!"
This time, Snape took a step towards the door. James quickly motioned for him to stay still — careful not to grab him again.
"Can he see us?" Severus asked in a barely audible whisper.
"Just you, for now. I’d have to use a spell to reveal myself."
The words of the spell came to his lips: somno tangere. He stayed silent, though. There was no reason to intervene, not yet. They could still stay hidden, wait for the dream to end — or for something to awaken them. Never had he wished for Harry to start crying as he was doing now.
"Let's just wai—" he began.
"BOY! Don't make me go look for you! Come here this instant or you'll regret your birth as much as I do!"
At this, both James and Snape flinched. It had sounded closer this time. The wizard looked at Snape, who gulped. And then, before James could react, the kid barged out of the room.
After a brief moment to silently curse himself for having allowed this to happen, James followed him.
III. Nightmare
It wasn't hard to find Snape and his father — all he needed to do was follow the stream of insults and profanities. It took him directly to a dismal-looking living room.
Snape senior was on the sofa in front of the TV, which was on and showing some Muggle sport. He had the remote in one hand and an empty bottle in the other, but his attention was focused on his son, who was kneeling on the floor collecting the broken pieces of what had previously been a pint glass. James could feel the rank smell of beer.
"...that be and fetch me another drink first, you dumb idiot. You are a good-for-nothing piece of shit, just like your mother. She has you spoilt— but I'll teach you, and her when she comes back. Just you wait!"
Snape’s reaction to his father’s words was not what James would have expected. There was no scowling, no moody talking back or snapping. There was fear, that much he could tell, but not the kind of fear that comes from the unexpected. The implications left James paralysed.
Snape was already halfway towards the door, his gaze fixed on the broken glass pieces he was still holding. He didn’t see James until he was only a few steps away from him. When he did, he stopped short, and a more familiar panicked expression set in. James felt sick, but he hurried to take a finger to his lips, indicating silence. It was too late, though: the glass pieces fell from Snape’s shaking hands into the floor once again. The child looked around as if trying to find a way out, and, as James followed his gaze, he saw Snape senior had got up from the sofa and was stumbling his way towards them.
"Look at you," came the man's slurred words. "So useless you can't follow a simple order."
“I’m sorry!” Snape sobbed in a thin voice. “I’ll – I’ll clean it up.”
“I’m sorry,” his father mimicked in a mocking tone. “You don’t even know what that means. But I’ll teach you to be sorry.”
As he spoke, he undid his belt –with surprising dexterity given his state– and wrapped one end around his hand. Snape stole a quick glance in James’ direction, an unreadable expression on his face. The look made the wizard react. He stepped away from the door, leaving the way free, but the kid didn’t take the chance to run. Instead, he dropped his head and turned back towards his father.
“I’ve learnt the lesson,” he whispered. “I’ll be good. Please.”
“Stop whining and be a man!”
The belt rose above Snape’s head just as James took a step forward and pushed the kid out of the way.
“Somno tangere!”
There was a flash of blue light and then James felt the bite of worn leather slapping his arm and part of his face. For a second he only felt the heat, then the pain set in – and with it, anger.
“Why don’t you learn to be a man and pick on someone your own size?” he snarled, grabbing Snape’s father by the collar. Up close, the stink of alcohol was almost unbearable, so he pushed him back, sending him tripping against the sofa. The man gripped the back to stop himself from falling down and gave James a bewildered look.
“Who the fuck are you?” His eyes moved from James’ face to the wand he was holding, and his expression soured. He turned towards his son. “You worthless piece of shit, what have you done now?”
“N-nothing,” Snape stammered.
“Leave him alone,” James intervened, raising his wand in hopes that the threat would be enough. He could hear the kind drawing in a sharp breath.
“You don’t tell me what to do with my son! I don’t know if he brought you or how the hell you got here, but if you don’t go away right now, I swear I will beat the living shit out of you, and that stick of yours is not going to stop me.”
Anger bubbled inside James’ chest and he had to make an effort to rein it in. He did not want to use magic against a muggle, even if the whole situation was not real, but every word out of the man’s mouth made his fists itch with the wish to hit him. Instead, he squared his shoulders and forced himself to speak calmly.
“I’m not going anywhere without the boy.”
A plan was starting to take form in his mind. He did not know how to end the dream, but perhaps if they left the location where the memory took place —the house— they could interrupt the process.
Snape’s father let out a contemptuous laugh.
“Ha! Do you really think I’m going to let you show up and do whatever you want with my son? I won’t let scum like you make him more of an abomination than he already is. Out with you!”
The man shook the belt once again, but this time James dodged it. He pocketed his wand again, partly to stop himself from using it and partly to free his hands to try and take the whip from him. They struggled for a few moments until the man began to lose his grip. But as he lost hold of the belt, his elbow impacted on James’ lip, throwing him off-balance. He fell on the floor, his mouth filling with blood. A throbbing pain engulfed the lower half of his face. He instinctively raised his arms to protect his face from a new attack, but instead he felt the man’s steps walking away from him.
He got back on his feet just in time to see Snape’s terrified expression as his father grabbed him by the hair. The boy cried in pain, only to be silenced by a slap that echoed in the room like a shot.
“That’ll teach you to bring scum like you into my house.”
James didn’t think. The pain seemed to subside into the background as he ran against the man and pushed him sideways against the wall. Snape senior growled with rage and tried to push him back, but James was faster. His knee went up and impacted on the man’s stomach. He bent forward with a yell, and the wizard used the opportunity to throw in a punch. His fist hit Snape’s nose. There was a spray of blood and the muggle fell down on his knees.
“And that will teach you to be a disgraceful beast,” he spat with contempt.
The man made an attempt to get back up, but a kick in the ribs sent him to the floor, face up.
“I should get that belt now, show you how it feels.”
A scrawny body crashed against him before he had the chance to make good on his threat.
“No, stop!” Snape unsuccessfully tried to push him away from his father. “It’s my fault, leave him!”
The first thing he felt was annoyance at the interruption, not to mention the absurdity of the kid’s statement. Then, as if through a haze, he registered the anxiety in his voice, the despair in his attempt to move him. His left cheek was still red and inflamed from the slap, and his eyes were wide and wild with fear –not of his father. James froze.
“It’s okay,” he muttered, although nothing was okay. He took a step back, still panting from the fight. Snape’s father groaned but didn’t try to get up. James turned his attention towards the kid, who had stopped pushing him as soon as he’d moved and was now several steps away, looking ready to run. “It’s okay,” he repeated absent-mindedly. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Snape’s only reaction was another of his wary looks. James sighed. His lip hurt, but he ignored it.
“Listen,” he said, “let’s try the front door. Maybe if we leave the house, we’ll—” He hesitated, then decided there was no point in speaking in code. “Maybe we’ll wake up. It’s worth a try.”
There was still no reaction from the kid, but his father grunted and struggled to push himself up.
“You are not going anywhere, you hear me?” He growled.
James turned to look Snape in the eye.
“Snape—Severus. Front door. Now.”
At last, he turned around and ran out of the room. James glanced at Snape senior, who was grabbing the sofa’s arm to try and lift himself up. The wizard had to suppress the urge to send a petrificus totalus his way. Instead, he just spat on the floor –it was mostly blood and it made his mouth hurt even more– and walked away. He closed the door behind him and, after a second of reflection, used the colloportus charm to lock it.
IV. Wake-up call
The front door was clearly visible at the end of the corridor. To his relief, Snape was there. After a few seconds, though, he realised why: the door wouldn’t open. Snape pushed, pulled and twisted the knob, apparently to no avail. James approached him, drawing his wand, and pretended not to notice when he flinched and stepped away.
“Alohomora.”
There was the usual clicking sound that meant the spell had been cast. However, the lock didn’t move. With a foreboding feeling, James pushed the door: nothing. The dream wasn’t going to let them leave.
“All right, not to worry. We’ll have to wait for the effects of the potion to wear off, that’s it.”
Snape’s breathing quickened. For the first time since the fight, James took a good look at him. He took in the inflamed cheek and the bruise that was beginning to form under his eye, but also the traces of blood on his fingers, clearly a result of cutting himself with the pieces of glass. He cursed himself for not having noticed before.
“Where is the bathroom?”
Snape pointed to a door to their left. James tried it; thankfully, it opened.
The child hadn’t moved from his place.
“Come inside,” James called. “Please.”
Snape looked as if he were going to refuse, then he dropped his head and obeyed. James tried to ignore the knot in his stomach. He left the door open.
He instructed the kid to sit on the toilet, then rummaged through the cupboard –a brief glance in the mirror before he opened it showed him the cut on his lower lip and the trail of dry blood coming from it, but he had no time for that. To his relief, the cupboard contained some semblance of a first-aid kit. He took a bottle of antiseptic and solved the lack of cotton with toilet paper.
“Show me your hands.”
Snape obeyed with a confused look. James kneeled down to examine them more closely.
“There might be some tiny glass pieces in there.” He tried to keep his tone analytical and even. “I’m going to use magic to remove them, is that okay?”
The kid’s only answer was to draw his hands back and hold them against his chest.
“It will only be a second. It’s no good healing them if the glass is still there. Just show me your palms.”
There was another weary look, and then that expression that, James was quickly learning, meant Snape saw no other option but to obey. Trying not to think about it, he drew his wand once more and pointed it at the hands.
“Tergeo.”
A small burst of magic came from the wand and siphoned away the glass splinters and the dried blood. Snape yelped and drew back again, but the spell had done its job.
“Okay, that’s it. No more magic now, I promise. Just let me put some antiseptic in there.”
To prove his words, he pocketed his wand and held the muggle healing product in one hand and the toilet paper in the other. “Here, you can apply it yourself if you want. It might sting a bit, but I’m sure you can take it.”
He soaked the paper with product and held it out for Snape. Gingerly, the kid took it with his right hand and applied it to the left. James then turned to the cabinet to find some bandages. There was a practically empty package, the sight of which made him want to smash the mirror. Instead, he took them and went back to the boy, who was now disinfecting his other hand.
“Here, let me, this is easier if I do it.” Snape looked up but didn’t protest when James took the piece of paper and finished pressing it against the cuts. His only reaction was to clench his jaw.
When he was done, James carefully wrapped the bandages around the hands. He then soaked a small towel in cold water, wringed it and gave it to the boy.
“Put it on your face,” he instructed. “It’s not ice, but I figure it’ll help for now.”
Snape obeyed.
“T-Thank you.”
The words were so unexpected it took James a second to react.
“No need. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
The kid’s eyes widened, then he shook his head.
“You sure?” the wizard insisted.
A nod, then a moment of hesitation before the kid spoke:
“You are.”
“What?”
“Hurt. Y-you are hurt. Your lip.”
“Oh. That.” For the first time he was aware of how it might look. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, although now that his attention was back to it he could feel the painful throbbing and the nauseating taste of blood. He considered using a spell, but something made him reluctant. Instead, he rinsed his mouth off with water – the pain brought tears to his eyes – and then applied antiseptic to the wound. He had to suppress a yelp.
“See? Like new. Now, shall we get you some ice?”
“Freezer’s broken.”
“Oh. Well, keep the towel, then. The potion must be about to wear off, anyway. In the meanwhile, let’s go back upstairs.”
For once, Snape didn’t argue; he just followed James as he retraced their way back to the room they had first appeared at. It looked even worse with the light on. With a sigh, James sat down on the floor, resting his back against the wall, and nodded towards the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, the kid followed his hint and sat down on the mattress.
There was a long silence.
“Are you sure you are okay?” James said at last. “Nothing else to be mended?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.” Another pause. James looked around, half hoping the room would start to fade and they would wake up back home, but everything seemed as solid as before. “Listen, Sn—Severus. I... I owe you an apology.”
This made the kid look up. Mistrust was painted all over his face. James found himself unable to be annoyed by it.
“Several ones, actually,” he continued, forcing himself not to look away. “For doing this, first. The whole potion thing, I mean. It was a terrible idea.” Shocking, he thought as his mind went back to Sirius’s eagerness to try it. Deep down, though, he knew he had only himself to blame. “But, above all, for what happened in the living room. You shouldn’t have seen that. Any of that. Gods, Lily will kill me when she finds out.”
“No!” Severus bolted up, his eyes once again filled with panic. “She can’t know! P-please,” he added as an afterthought, lowering his gaze.
James hesitated.
“Why?”
The boy shook his head, refusing to speak.
“She is going to ask what happened,” James insisted. “And I don’t like to lie to her.”
“I don’t—” his voice broke. He gulped and tried again. James could see there were tears in his eyes. “I don’t want her to know how bad I really am.”
Each of his words felt like a punch in James’ stomach.
“You are not bad, you hear me? Nothing that happened here will ever make me or Lily think you are. This is not your fault.” Severus made a noise that was a bit like a snort – a bitter, disbelieving one. “I mean it,” James insisted. “And I know Lily will think the same.”
There was another silence, so long he thought the child would not reply. But then, in a voice so thin it was barely more than a whisper, the kid asked,
“Why did you do it?”
“Huh?”
With his free hand, Severus made a vague gesture towards James’ battered face.
Many possible answers crossed James’ mind at once. In the end, though, there was only one that mattered:
“Because he was hurting you, and he had no right.”
Severus frowned.
“But I disobeyed,” he said. “And I dropped the glass pieces.”
“That doesn’t matter. No one, absolutely no one, should hurt someone who is smaller, weaker, or less powerful than them. Trust me, I... I’ve done it myself, and it was wrong. Very wrong.” The knot that had begun to form in his throat grew tighter. He bit his lip and welcomed the pain for helping his mind focus on the present. He was being stupid; this Snape had no idea what he was talking about, and, even if he did, hearing James blabber about it would not fix anything. “What I’m trying to say is that neither your father nor me, nor anyone else has the right to hurt you, no matter how you think you deserve it. You don’t. No child does, okay?”
He wished he could think the kid’s nod was sincere, but he knew better. Still, the slight flinch when he got up and approached the bed felt like a defeat.
“I know you don’t believe me. It’s okay, I suppose – you have no reason to. But I promise you anyway: I won’t hurt you. Ever, no matter what you do. And neither will Lily, but you know that already.”
This time, Severus didn’t argue. It wasn’t a lot, but James decided to take it as a small victory. Hesitatingly, he took a ratty blanket from the end of the bed and held it out for the kid.
“You should get some rest now. We’ll be back home when you wake up.” Slowly, the boy nodded and took the blanket. “I’ll be right outside, okay?”
He walked towards the door, but the kid’s voice stopped him before he could reach it.
“J-James?”
His breath caught.
“Yes?”
“You can stay here. If you want.”
“Of course.”
He turned around slowly. The boy had laid back against the pillow and looked about to fall asleep, although his eyes were still open. James also felt suddenly sleepy; the potion must be finally wearing off. Too tired to stand, he sat down on the end of the bed. The last thing he noticed before everything turned black was that Severus didn’t flinch.
That, too, felt like a victory.