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Severus Snape was a generally bad person. He believed this deep down as he went about his adult life as a cold and unwelcoming presence. He was generally stern with students but even with adults, he wasn’t the best. Severus walked with guilt being an additional cloak atop his clothes. It was thick and heavy and torrid, leaving the Potions Master uncomfortable with himself day in and day out. Minerva had perhaps brought him back to Hogwarts after the war because she trusted him, but deep down, unbeknownst to Snape, she was worried for his mental state.
So many memories weighed on Severus. He never cared to find a diagnosis for his mental problems like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; he in fact invalidated himself internally, believing others must have had worse situations. Even after torment going as far as adolescent sexual harassment and being threatened to be stripped to having to kill a man he put all his trust in, he just couldn’t let himself “excuse” his pain with a more complex mental issue. He was closed-minded when it came to the possibility of himself having a mental illness though people like McGonagall and Dumbledore could tell but would never press. He was a man who had been raised and trained to know how to be emotionally conserved.
That had gotten him through life so far, but where was he going now? The war was over, he had done his job, and somehow Lily Potter’s son had still managed to live on. He was sure he would be dead by now, yet fate didn’t always play out as we wanted. Severus was left to be haunted by the memories. He remembered the way his life flashed before his eyes on the brink of death. His harsh childhood, his brutal and foolish years attending Hogwarts, and his bitter adulthood at the very school that spread out hazardous possibilities like a spider web all sat with him like unwanted air. He couldn’t believe McGonagall when she said this was the safest place for him to be when plenty there now knew the guilt he held.
He felt guilty-- he believed he deserved to feel guilty for all that happened. Lily and James Potter’s deaths, Dumbledore’s death, students’ suffering from the violent punishments Death Eaters dueled out while he was headmaster, and even the possible fear Harry felt when he went into the Forbidden Forest to die: he felt guilty for it all. It makes Severus feel sick with himself for being allowed to live on. The lonely man concluded on that fateful day in May that he shouldn’t be allowed pity. Severus found himself thinking on this a lot lately as he had occasionally received odd looks from students.
Some students had had the gall to come to him during office hours, asking him questions about the war and about him. He had responded in turn with a strictness that was probably unneeded. Students who now knew just how reliable Severus Snape had truly been during the wars also learned Snape wasn’t a professor to prod with personal questions. It was as before. He was often composed, well-minded, and focused. Nonetheless, if the past- his past- was brought to light, he grew defensive, cold, and harsh. That’s how it had been since the beginning.
However, Severus’s internalized coping mechanisms had changed over time after the war. When with others, he kept himself mentally and emotionally secure by being either defensive or aggressively assertive. Away from people, he had a different response to the memories and emotions that came with his past. The Potions Master found himself zoning out more, images from the last 7 years washing up vividly in his daily vision or clearly at night in his dreams. It was often the worst when in silence and trying to complete a simple task like today.
He had been going over essays from his N.E.W.T. class and the simplest phrase had reminded him of this minuscule thing Dumbledore had once said. Severus knew deep down he’d later think he was foolish for this but it caused him to spiral out of control. He had stopped actually reading the essay and was replaying talks in his mind. They played out in his vision as if he was living it right then. The man’s breath practically stopped as his actual vision seemed to fade to black and be filled with fantasy. He thought of the ring and the curse in Dumbledore’s hand that made his death definite within Harry’s 6th year at Hogwarts. That trailed on to how he couldn’t do more to stop the curse in his hand- to perhaps lengthen his life. He thought of the talk of Harry and how all that time, he protected Harry just for him to die and he felt sick. The fear he must’ve felt and distress he must have caused the boy when trying to make him look at him for who he truly was lured Severus deeper down the hole in his mind. And with death came killing Dumbledore. The headmaster had greeted Death like an old friend, and Severus wanted to ease the great wizard’s pain but the tired look that had been set in his eyes had left the young subordinate damaged. Taking Dumbledore’s life had distraught so many and had isolated the secretive man more than ever before.
Then he was left in charge of the school with two Death Eaters being set as his Deputy Heads. He remembered the screams from the “Dark Arts” classroom when students were to practice spells on one another. He remembered the crying when Death Eaters and “obedient” students were dashing out punishments. The hospital wing would have beds regularly filled; blood having stained the floors. The students… His students… Still present students begging for mercy as he uselessly watched on.
He remembered that clearly along with the gloom. All the blood. Blood painted the Dark Arts classroom like a messy art project. The violent yells of spells and the following cries filled his ears and he wasn’t sure if he was breathing anymore. He couldn’t will himself to move and blow his cover just yet. He wished more than anything to have been able to take the pain away- no child deserved what they were handed.
He wished he were dead. He couldn’t find strength to move but he felt the urge to drown. He wanted to go to Minera’s office and dunk his head into the Pensieve and hope for a black, empty memory of silence. It was all too much, and Severus couldn’t step back. He was locked in the memory and guilt replaying in his mind’s eye that reality was lost to him.
Snape’s mind was persistent and raucous but the office he sat in was silent and still. His thoughts and the facts surrounding the emotionally stranded man didn’t align.
However, the atmosphere’s silence was broken as feet quietly began to prod down the staircase leading to his office. Severus didn’t hear the clack of old-fashioned heels clicking on the stone nor the voice that accompanied them when the person entered his office. The Potions Master didn’t budge from his position, leaning over his desk with his left arm draped over his student’s parchment while the forgotten quill he had been leaving marks with lay loosely in hand. To the average bloke, Severus might have just seemed focused or simply exasperated as the expression etched across his face was simplistic yet scrunched up.
Sirius didn’t bother to look up when he entered, knowing already what he wanted to address was difficult. “Alright, Snivvy… I know that you probably want me out of your office immediately but we need to discuss something. I’ll admit, we’ve both been a little immature over the years… But Remus has convinced me to try talking things out, alright?” The black haired man looked up but instantly frowned further.
The bastard wasn’t even going to bother glancing up at him?! It looked like Severus was just staring at the essay before him like Sirius didn’t even exist.
A disgusted feeling washed over the tall man and gritted his teeth. “What?... Snape, come on, what? Did I do something new to earn the silent treatment??” The Transfigurations Professor was at least expecting his colleague to snap at him to keep that old disparaging nickname out of his mouth.
Severus didn’t budge nonetheless; he couldn’t drag himself out of all those painful memories. It was like he had been dunked into the Pensieve full of his own recollections.
Black’s jaw stayed clenched and he quickly stepped over. A firm hand wrapped its fingers around Severus’s right shoulder and firmly jerked him back, “What the bloody hell ‘s got your wand in a knot?!”
The force shook the sitting man across a field of memories within seconds. All he could think in correlation to being shoved so violently was that he was being attacked. Without even processing his real surroundings or properly thinking words, Snape flicked his wrist in the direction of whatever had caused that force.
A quick flash of light followed and Sirius was sent flying back. He crashed into the opposing wall by the office entrance, slamming into the wooden cabinet full of jars and bottles stocked of ingredients as well as some potions.
“Hnng!” the man thrown across the room groaned out in pain before a grumbled set of cusses followed. Some glass had definitely managed to scuff his blazer as well as his hands. A few seconds pass and he tries to take in what just happened. He watched as a few live ingredients squirmed and slithered around the stone floor weakly, causing a shiver to run down the man’s now aching spine. He let out a huffed breath then instantly looked to Severus at his desk.
The Potions Master was standing now and at the side of his desk. He was leaning forward as if about to rush over and assist the man he had just assaulted. However, a look of dread was smeared across his paling face. What had he done? He barely knew what had happened before him. When had Black even entered his office? Severus was so disoriented, everything was pressing onto him like a stone dropped into his arms without warning.
He took in the man now on the floor, surrounded by glass and ingredients and a broken shelf while blood clearly began to come from his hands and upper wrists- there even seemed to be a miniscule nick on his cheek. A nauseating response started within him as guilt was all he could feel. Harm was always following Severus. He was just a sore obstacle. He just wanted it all to stop.
He kept causing more pain. He needed to go away, Severus just knew so.
Sirius saw him staring on with that expression and opened his mouth to speak but froze as he saw Snape finally move. However, for all the wrong reasons. The reckless man abhorred his old secondary school victim but he never expected or hoped for such a violent reaction.
He watched as Severus expeditiously reached under his robe and into his pocket, drawing out his wand. The dog-spirited man firstly expected it to immediately be pointed forward to fix the mess but instead it pointed the opposite direction- directly at Snape's own face.
Agony and desperation inscribed itself into the disheartening man’s face and shock wrecked Sirius. This teacher seen to be driven by merely his own dark aura was suddenly more mentally vulnerable than Black had ever seen. His blood ran cold as realization struck for what trouble might come of the next thirty seconds.
With a speed unbeknownst to Sirius, he bound up from his position on the floor. Ignoring all pain in his back, he darted over to Snape, “No- Don’t, Severus!” He snatched the wand from his grasp, sure he would have snapped it if the other had been holding onto it any tighter than he had.
Severus seemed to reel back at the sudden proximity but Sirius held his biceps firmly. He stared at the distressed professor and took in the sight. Never before had he expected himself to feel remorse for old Snivellus.
“Just relax-!” he noticed his volume and took a deep breath himself. “Just… Take some breaths.. Please- It’s alright and I- I won’t harm you.”
Severus’s eyes were wide-eyed and glistening, liquid clear along his waterline as tears swelled. The man was shattered before someone and he despised it so much. He was angry at Black but more so himself.
“It’s okay,” Sirius spoke again, not breaking eye contact. “Forget the mess, I’ll- I’ll fix it up in an instant. Sit and-” he looked back around the room then before doing his best to relax his own face. “Don’t be panicked. I don’t understand what’s wrong but let’s just talk.”
Further surprise rocked Severus and he looked at Black, finally managing to whisper in a barely smoothed tone, “Talk..?” He said it as if questioning if that was some stupid joke.
“Mhm,” the talker colleague nodded timidly. “I’m not the best, but you don’t need to go through the halls to Minerva looking like this and I-..,” he looked around again as he slowly pulled out his own wand, carefully rewinding the mess and having everything placed back on the fixed shelf. He then turned back before adding, “I am sure there’s something poisonous in here so I won’t leave you here unattended.”
“Don’t you dare address me like some unruly child-” Severus croaked out but Sirius once again dominated the conversation.
“Shut it.” He slowly let go of the other’s left bicep, knowing this closeness would not assist in getting rid of that pained look in the Potions Master’s eyes. “Please, Severus… I don’t like you but Harry does. And- And if he does then I care enough to help you.” Sirius gave an apologetic look and Severus did his best to just temporarily accept his assistance.
He had to face the facts. He just wasn’t as mentally sound as he used to be- especially if he was ready to strike himself right before a man he very much criticized.
A tear finally slipped down Severus’s cheek and scarred jaw as a shaky breath escaped him. His shoulders caved inward and he brought the cuff of his sleeve up over his mouth and right under his nose. The long running teacher admitted defeat, knowing he could not move any further forward without assistance. Perhaps this could be his first step.
In a somehow cool tone, Snape murmured, “Please… I’m sick of this.”