Work Text:
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
The waves come and go.
On and on they come, until everything is reduced to sound.
Past and future don’t matter. Only the present: the cold that touches your feet, the warmth of the sun on your face, and the quietness of your heart, getting ready to feel again.
Peace.
A word that Severus would have never expected to use to describe himself or his life.
And yet, there he was.
On a secluded beach on the cost of Ireland, walking on the humid sand, searching for crabs, and listening.
Well, also waiting.
And hoping.
“The sea is unpredictable – his mother used to say – and so are her gifts. You need to cherish them, even if you don’t know what to make of them.
In time, you’ll understand.”
Severus hadn’t thought of his mother in years, but her words had a way of coming up to him at the most unexpected times. Like every advice mothers give.
Like the tide.
It all had happened a few years ago.
Severus had his trousers rolled up and was contemplating the dawn, with the sky tinted in violet, blue and orange hues, when the sea brought forward a shell.
It wasn’t very big, it fit nicely in the palm of his hand, and, despite being late January, it radiated warmth, the kind you feel when you are little and your mother holds your hand.
He didn’t know how long he stayed there, holding it, and staring at the sky.
It was when he put it in his breast pocket that he realized something else. From it came a low sound, as if there were vibrations captured inside.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to put it up near his ear to listen.
At first there was only the sea.
Then a voice.
A young boy’s one.
“Auntie Min, do you think I will ever make magic?”
He could feel the sadness and the baited breath with which the child awaited an answer.
Silence disrupted only by the sound of waves.
“Magic can be many things.
Respecting nature and the gifts she gives.
Listen to the pain of other people and just being there.
We are magic.
You just need to wait until you understand what that means for you.”
Rustle of fabric, and the sound of a kiss.
He liked to think that the shell was the first bout of accidental magic that happened to the child, and he was happy to share this secret with the boy.
Keeping and listening to it healed the part of himself that still walked silent and fast - like the child he had been - so that he couldn’t be grabbed by his father’s fists.
Severus had gone home dazed. And whether the next day had appeared a little shelf on which sat the shell - hidden by the door but near his favourite armchair - none could tell.
He had hoped that others will come.
And they did.
Always unexpectedly, just when he started to doubt.
“Can I have one more song?”
The woman chuckled.
“Which one?”
“The seal one, you promised!” he sounded so earnest.
She had a lovely alto voice, and Severus, just like the boy, lost himself in it.
Oh, hush thee, my baby,
The night is behind us
And black are the waters
That sparkled so green.
The moon o’er the combers
Looks downward to find us
At rest in the hollows
That rustle between
Where billow meets billow,
Then soft be thy pillow
Oh, weary wee flipperling,
Nor shark overtake thee
The storm shall not wake thee,
Nor shark overtake thee
Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging sea
“Al, what are you doing?”
“I’m giving back the shell to the sea, so that music can spread faster! You told me that music spreads faster in the water than in air, auntie.”
“Yes, I did”.
“Goodbye shell. I hope you go to someone who needs you!”
He imagined the boy was waving at the shell while it sank into the sea.
He smiled.
“Auntie Min, do you have a favourite constellation?”
“The Pleiads. Techically they aren’t even a constellation, they are a group of stars that is part of the Taurus constellation.”
“Where are they?”
“There. Do you see them?”
“Yes!”
“Why do you like them?”
“Because the story says that they were seven sisters, and I am an only child and I have always wanted siblings.”
“But they aren’t seven. I see just six of them!”
“I know, and that is the other reason why I like them. For their story. You see, the Pleiads were the seven daughters of Atlas and Pleion: Maia, Electra, Taygete, Alcyone, Asterope, Caeleno and Merope.
One day they were being hunted by Orion and they pleaded Zeus, the chief of the gods, for an escape. And he decided to transform them into stars.”
“But where is the seventh?”
“She is hidden.”
The myth says that she was in love with a mortal man, but Zeus couldn’t accept this – and that was rich coming from him, considering that he had more flings with mortal women that you can count – so he saved her, but made sure that she is not easily spotted. So that in time she would be forgotten.
Zeus, however, forgot something.
Sisterhood.
The love the sisters had for each other was so strong that all of them, even as stars, gravitated near each other. Therefore she will always be barely visible, but never forgotten.”
And whether Severus, during the following nights, brought outside his old telescope, and picked up the books about mythology he had always wanted to read but couldn’t, none had to know.
“Aunt Min, do you think I will make friend at Hogwarts? Or will it happen like ... now?”
“Al, what is happening now?”
“You know, the usual…”
“And that is?”
“Why do I have to say it every time if it hurts????”
The boy’s voice had never been so young and vulnerable.
“Because keeping it inside is far, far worse, little octopus …
It makes you feel alone, scared, and not good enough. And it doesn’t matter if you need to talk about the same thing every day, you will never bore the people who love you.
The fact that you need to talk about it means that you have not erected walls around your heart, and that you are trying to find your way to heal.
I know it hurts to talk about it, love. Sometimes it feels as if you are pulling out the pain from your chest.
But it helps.
I promise.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I did that, and sometimes I still do it..
Even if I knew that the people who love me wanted to hear about my struggling, I tried not to say too much, both because I didn’t want to burden them, and also because a part of me thought that they wouldn’t want to love me if I weren’t perfect.
The strange thing is that I knew I would never hold others to the same standard…
There are moments when I am overwhelmed by all the things I want and need to do, and if everything is not going well – which is the case most of the time, because nothing can go perfectly smoothly all of the time – I try not to think about it.
it’s painful to talk about the things that bother you, and when sometimes I feel like a failure, I’m scared that others will think that about me, too.
But in these moments, I also know that the people who love me would never think that about me and I know that they will never leave.
Still, sometimes it’s hard.”
Rust of fabric.
He can feel the warmth of their embrace from the shell he is holding.
And if a few days later, Severus, having gone to Hogwarts, heard the woman’s voice drifting from the open doors of the library, and found himself mesmerized by the speck of ember and orange in her eyes – Just like the dawn – who are we to know?