Prologue, Part I: Lachesis's Mistake
Severus Snape was swinging. He moved gracelessly through the air, his thin, spindly form contorting as he propelled himself forwards and back again. He never changed speeds, nor did he ever attain a height greater than that which he had reached on his previous arc. His movements were even and measured, almost automatic, as though compelled by an outside force.
Severus could not remember a time when he was not swinging. He could not remember a world outside of his present existence, which consisted entirely of a splintery wooden seesaw, a rusty slide, and, of course, a huge metal swing set. A thick white mist surrounded the decrepit playground on all sides; Severus could see nothing beyond its diameter. What was more, he had no desire to do so.
Sometimes Severus thought he caught a glimpse of another person at the edges of the playground. Out of the corner of his eye he would spot dark red hair or slanted green eyes, shining beseechingly from behind the mist. But the vision would vanish almost as soon as he noticed it, and so Severus had eventually stopped noticing altogether.
Such was the existence of Severus Snape, for how long he couldn't tell. As he had no memory of life before the swing set Severus had no frame of reference with regard to the passing of time. He might have been there for five minutes, or he might have been there for a hundred years. Eventually, however, his lonely, undefined existence was interrupted by the sudden materialization of a woman inside the playground.
The woman appeared suddenly, garbed in long white robes with glistening silver hair streaming down her back. She gazed impressively at Severus, who had stopped swinging, his black shoes scraping the ground and bringing him to an abrupt halt.
Severus stared into the woman's wide green eyes for several long moments. The woman stared back, though her gaze became noticeably less impressive and considerably more self-conscious as the seconds ticked by. At last she grimaced and said,
"You are Severus Snape, are you not?"
Severus frowned in distaste. Was that his name? He certainly hoped not—it was a terrible name, ugly and severe.
"You are," the woman said, looking satisfied. "I would recognize that disgusted grimace anywhere."
"And you are?" Severus asked, finding his voice at last.
"I am Lachesis, though there are some who call me Decima."
"One of the three fates!" Severus said.
"You know of us, wizard?"
"Of course," Severus said, his voice haughty. He did not take well to others questioning his knowledge—or did he? Severus frowned, realizing that, apart from not knowing his own name, he didn't know much about his own personality either.
"And? What do you know?" Lachesis pressed, looking at Severus like a proud teacher gazing down at a student who has just answered a difficult question.
"I know that the three fates are actually three sisters, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, to give them their Greek names."
"Ridiculous Romans, trying to fix what doesn't need fixing," Lachesis interrupted. Severus glared.
"Anyway," he said, "all cases of name-changing aside, the three sisters have one specific job. They are in charge of the lifespan of every mortal on earth. Upon birth, a person is assigned a piece of string. This string represents their life. Clothos spins the string; Lachesis measures it; and Atropos is in charge of cutting it at the time of person's death."
"Correct," Lachesis said. Severus looked at her expectantly.
"What?" she asked at last.
"Must I really ask what any of this has to do with me?" he said. "Or are you going to tell me?"
"Why the hurry? Perhaps you'd like to get back to your swing?" Lachesis snapped. Severus flushed.
"I don't know why I was swinging," he said. "I don't know why I'm here, or who I am, or—"
"Because of me," Lachesis said quietly, all previous traces of anger gone. "Because of a mistake that I made five years ago, when I was measuring your string."
A/N: The rest of the prologue should be up later tonight…please review!