AN: Hey, guys!
So I wrote this really long thing. Again with the soulmate fics, but I just can't get enough of them.
I really wanted to do a really long thing, so I wrote and expanded and wrote and expanded and here it is. There will be no Harry perspective version of this because, well, this already covers more than his entire life.
Also, I just realized that this is probably the first Snarry that I have finished. Woot! Hope you like it, as I can't seem to convince any of my friends (except my therapist) that Snarry is a fantastic ship.
Anyway, yes, this does contain a slightly modified Edgar Allen Poe quote. It is from For Annie, which is my favorite poem of his. The lines used are lines five and six. The literal quote is:
"And the fever called 'Living'/ Is conquered at last."
But I decided to modify it a bit.
So I attribute the characters, settings, and rough plot line to JK Rowling and Scholastic. The lines for their Marks I attribute to Edgar Allen Poe, even though he is long dead, because he was a great poet.
Please, enjoy and review.
~Kiro
Severus Snape never thought himself lucky in love. No, indeed, he did not think himself lucky at all. He wasn't even sure that there was any love to be lucky or unlucky with in the first place, for that matter. No, he was stuck in a house with an abusive father and a mother who no longer had the strength to do anything about it.
Severus had never known love. Once, his mother showed him her Mark, two words in black on her back, just below her shoulder blades. The words had been scarlet, once, but turned black before she even turned seventeen. Her Destined had died, still unknown to her, and the words that should have brought her to her love had rotted on her skin. She had sought something she thought to be love with a muggle man. That went south and turned into an oxymoron, a comedic caricature of a normal, loving marriage. She didn't quite regret it, though, because that man brought her Severus. At least that was what she told the child, that day when he was seven years old.
Severus was certain, when he met Lily, that he loved her. After all, from his mothers stories love was comfort and fun and trust, and those things he had with Lily. He had those things with Lily for seven years, a loving friendship that lasted through abuse and taunts and pranks and bullying and loneliness. It lasted through Lily's discovery of magic, through years of torment from both schoolmates and Sev's father, until their sixth year.
~
It really wasn't that different a day, to begin with. Severus had woken up feeling as if he'd been trampled by a hippogryph, went through his waking routine, and trudged to breakfast. He sat at the back of his classes, working diligently, if a bit dispirited. However, on this day Severus turned sixteen years of age.
He could feel a tingling, running up the medial vein of his right arm. Four words, outlined in a faint dark emerald, that marked him as one of the unfortunate few, the Sapias. These were those who were more than sixteen years older than their Destined, forever forward to be labeled as perverts, even though the Sapias had not even met the poor fools they were destined to love.
When classes were over, Severus fled to an old oak by the lake. He hoped, against reason, that Potter and his gang would leave him alone for at least this one day in his life. But it was not to be.
"Come on, Snivellus, I hear it's your birthday! Let's see this Mark of yours, shall we?" Potter. It figured, Severus could never get any peace.
He reached for his wand, which was promptly expelled away from his person, and reflexively covered his wand arm with his opposite hand. Foolish, he realized as Potter's eyes flicked to his forearm and the smirk appeared. Two seconds later, Severus was hanging upside down in the air.
"What, you too embarrassed to show us, Snivellus? It isn't Padfoot's handwriting, is it?" this earned him a half-hearted "oi!" from his friend, but he ignored it and instead ripped the sleeve of Severus' sweater with a spell, prying his fingers away in the process. The Gryffindor took hold of the terrified, humiliated Slytherin's forearm, holding it up to the light, and laughed.
"Looks like Snivellus has even worse taste than we thought, boys! He's a greasy paedophile! His Destined doesn't even look like they will have learned how to properly use a quill by sixteen!" Cue the laughter, the humiliation, and a humiliating stand by Lily, coming once again to his rescue.
Severus just wanted to leave, get out of there, go. So he snapped. Called his best friend a mudblood and ruined whatever love they might have once shared. He eventually was let down, about twenty minutes later. He hid at the far bank of the lake, then wept for what felt like hours.
~
Severus and Lily's relationship was never the same again. It took years, really, of torment to change anything. Severus joined the Death Eaters. These were the people who he felt might have once given him a home, or something to live for. They didn't, just orders and some cruel companions. Severus went "undercover" as a professor at Hogwarts, the headmaster's lapdog. Three years passed, and a tentative bond was reformed between the two lost friends. Lily was married by then to the schoolyard bully Severus despised, but he bore with it. For Lily.
Another year passed and the Death Eaters only got more cruel. Severus was asked to develop vicious spells and sanity-eating potions. He did what he was asked. It was that or be killed as an example. So Severus kept on.
Two things happened in rapid succession in Severus' mind. First, he turned coat. Severus realized the Dark Lord's viciousness and swore to help his friend, in any way he could. He swore allegiance to the Order, was inducted as a spy. For Lily. Second, Lily and James' son was born.
~
Severus had managed to get away from the Death Eater ranks when he heard that Lily was in labor. He came as quickly as he could, ran to her bedside, where she held her newborn. She smiled at him, and, ignoring her husband's glare, held out her son for Severus to take. He reached out and stopped, hearing a gasp from the new mother. He looked to her and her eyes were blown out of proportion. The woman looked up at Severus in shock, wonder, joy, sadness, confusion, and, finally, certainty. For there, on his arm, his mark had filled in. It was now a faded jade encapsulated in darkest faded emerald.
They knew, then, exactly who his Destined was. Severus knew for a fact that he had been tracing the outlines, and only the outlines, of letters on his way to meet the new mother and her child. His Soulmate was twenty years younger than him, his best, no, only, friend's son. James was furious. It took him hours to calm down, with Lily's help.
Severus didn't know what to think. Or feel. Or how to breath, really. So he did what he always did and busied himself with work, this time that work being keeping his Beloved and best friend safe.
~
Severus kept in the Dark Lord's good graces. He brought him gifts, a prophecy. Severus only learned so on Halloween of that next year, but he was responsible for his friend's death and his Beloved's descent into a tortuous life.
Severus overheard part of the prophecy and, like a loyal crup, ran back to his master with the treasure in his mouth. Voldemort took immediate action on the prophecy. He attempted to kill the Potter infant, but was stopped by the parents. The monster killed Lily and James and, in the process, died himself, or at least a part of himself died. Harry, the infant, was delivered to his Muggle aunt's doorstep.
But Severus... Severus was lost, totally and utterly lost. His chain was loosened by each master, but the one kept an eye on him and the other seemed capable of controlling Severus' life from beyond the grave. It was all the restriction but none of the reassurance or guidance he had once.
It was horrid, those years, for Severus. Just another continuation of his horrible life, destined for failure and misery. He could barely make himself move, keep on, but he did.
~
Eleven years after the horrible events involving the partial prophecy and the death of the Potters, Harry Potter entered Hogwarts. He was a skinny thing, thin as a rail and short from malnutrition, drowning beneath his cousin's clothes. Severus wasn't sure what to think of the boy, but soon made up his mind.
Severus grew to resent his Destined. If Severus had never had merely an outline of the Mark, if he had not been one of the Sapias, he would not have been teased by the elder Potter so horribly. As such, Severus would not have caused damage to his relations with Lily. He would not have joined the Death Eaters, he would not be trapped now, and he would not have fed Voldemort the fractured prophecy that caused so much pain. Lily would still be alive.
Not that the boy's appearance helped. His attempts to look brave seemed arrogant to Severus, and the boy's looks were much too similar to his father's. Harry Potter, it seemed, caused all of Severus' problems. Severus Snape didn't know how he could ever love this child, this sniveling brat.
Yet he protected the child anyway. Some inherent part of him needed the boy safe, for Severus' sake and for Lily. So Severus did. He did everything he could, saving the brat from his own stupidity, from Death Eaters and his dogfather. He even taught the child Occlumancy. Or rather, attempted. The boy was hopeless, and it didn't help that Severus' soul and mind and body reacted to the boy, reaching out in a desperate attempt to brush souls.
Over those taxing years, Severus somehow found himself growing to love this boy-man amalgamation. Harry had never had a childhood, as he was forced to grow up too fast and had an odd mutation of adult and child in him.
When he was grading papers, every so often Severus would stop to sort through and find Harry's essay, or he would stop when he reached the nearly-unreadable scrawl. Severus would pull up the sleeve of his robe and unbutton his cuff, drawing it up to his elbow. He would trace the lines there, two faded shades of green, and study the comparison between the words over his vein and the script on the page. Then he would hastily tear his sleeve back down and button the cuff, stuffing the paper back into the middle of the stack of graded papers. It became somewhat of a ritual for the potions professor, a painful one, but a sort of tradition.
No matter how many cauldrons the boy ruined, no matter how many tests he failed or essays he botched, Severus couldn't hate the boy. No matter how many rules the boy broke or how many times he was out in danger, there was no hatred for the boy. The only anger Severus felt was with himself for not better protecting the man-child and with Harry for not being more careful, for not bringing help, for not taking his safety into higher consideration. It was odd, but Severus could do nothing but fall deeper. Severus couldn't help but love this boy.
~
Sometime during Harry's fifth year, Severus was once again approached by his old master. The monster was no longer human, no longer held power outside of his reputation, but the thing's minions did. Severus rejoined, a dutiful servant to his returned master as spy. It made Severus sick, but he did it. For Harry.
~
It changed, horribly changed during one of the Occlumancy lessons in fifth year. Severus knew he was pushing the boy too hard but he couldn't help it. He wanted Harry to be able to protect himself, the boy simply couldn't give up at the first push, and the Dark Lord wasn't holding back. He had to learn, now. But Severus went too far.
A hasty Protego from Harry and Severus was back there again. His worst memory. The hollow lines in sloppy chicken scratch, the taunting, the words, him floating, blood rushing to his head-
Severus thrust the boy out of his mind. He couldn't see, couldn't see... Severus could not show weakness, especially not to this boy. If he acted human, he would do something they both would regret, something he couldn't afford, especially not in the middle of a war.
He kicked out the boy with a shout and a thrown jar of- something. The boy ran, scrambled out of the classroom, away from the monster that was his, unrealized, Destined. Severus felt sick.
~
The Occlumancy lessons were canceled. Severus knew that he shouldn't leave the boy unprotected but he just couldn't go through that again. He couldn't face Harry after what the boy had seen. Severus could only stay away from the teen and hope that he hadn't recognized his own handwriting in the Mark.
Severus acted more apathetic, as neutral as he could toward the boy. He stayed away, was just vile enough during classes, and he put no heart in the insults like he used to. He couldn't.
Harry received his Mark that summer. Severus counted down the days, and spent that night drinking himself into oblivion. He hated this, the uncertainty. Would the boy recognize Severus' handwriting? What a ridiculous question, of course he would. The student had been deciphering Severus' handwriting on the blackboard for five years.
The first day of the new school year, Severus felt tense. He was strung tighter than a clock spring and more prone to snapping. He felt his Destined's eyes on him during the feast, but ignored it. The next day, he avoided the boy, and treated him as an invisible annoyance.
The school year rode on in that manner. Severus ignored the boy, and the boy studied the Potions Master with suspicious and confounded gazes. Tension was higher than ever, but neither tried to resolve it.
The end of the year came and Severus did his duty. He would do anything, anything to protect that boy, and if Severus had to kill his mentor and second master, so be it. Two words and the old relic was dead, Death Eaters stormed the castle and a skirmish ensued. The young Harry disappeared, off to do Gryffindorish things and save the world. Shit happened, and Severus was thrown into a nightmare
The next year was horrible, at least it was for Severus. He retreated from the real world, hiding in the farthest corner of his mind from the dark happenings of the world. His outer self watched, contributed, did his duty, and collected information to help his Beloved to defeat the Dark Lord. Severus' soul, though, that never made an appearance any more. Neither did his passion, nor his emotion. He was a calculating, spying husk.
~
Finally, there came the day of the final battle. Severus was summoned to the Shrieking Shack to meet his master. He stood by the window, trying not to sneeze as the dust of the old disused place clawed up his nose. Suddenly, a hiss and quiet steps sounded, coming closer, accompanied by a dry skin-on-wood rasp.
Severus stood tall, back to the window, proud. He knew what was coming. One way or another he would not come out alive from this battle, and Voldemort was not one to let others win where he could. Severus would most likely be dying that day, and given the situation it would most likely be in that scene, in that shack.
The nose-less face appeared from around the corner, red eyes glowing as the thing's body slid forward, deadly snake following at his side. Severus kept his eyes level, his body at attention as the "man" approached. Oh how Severus hated this monster.
Voldemort spoke. 'Oh, look at my power, I've got the badass stick, how fun! Oh, but the mean man had this stick before I did. I guess I'll have to kill him.' It made Severus sick with fear and disgust.
Then Nagini struck, knocking him back into the wall. Severus gasped, and his eyes rolled back in his head as the snake struck again and again. It's fangs sank deep into his neck and released the venom into his bloodstream, painfully and slowly bringing him to his death, pouring what felt like acid through his veins.
With one last hiss and cackle, the Dark Lord was gone.
A flash of black and smeared tan passed into his vision and Severus was left staring up into magnified green irises. He knew this person. His Destined. But Severus was dying, it didn't matter now. With a start he realized he was crying, his memories dripping across his face. At least he would be able to do one last thing to save his Beloved. One last, desperate, horrid attempt...
Warm skin brushed his, a pressure covered the wounds on his neck. A hand, Severus realized, a bare hand, a second before the connection snapped into place
A burning fire rose in Severus' flesh and wounds and blood. A bright light of white, fractured with bloody red, erupted through the room, originating from the point of contact. Forest green exploded from Severus' right forearm, burning through his robes as an answering deep black-yet-white, marbled light burned from the outer left thigh of the man before him.
On the potion master's arm, in a light jade that eased to the deepest green imaginable at the edges, there were four words written in an untidy scrawl.
"This fever called living" sprawled over the forearm.
And running from his outer calf up his knee to end just before his hip, the teen bore five words. In a marbled font of white shot through with thin black veins, a large and spidery scrawl flowed across the Chosen One's entire leg.
"I am conquered at last" it proclaimed.
This horribly beautiful, reassuring, fiery presence brushed up against Severus' soul, pulling it. And again and again came this tugging sensation, this flood of power in his body and soul. It was not fully his, not fully this other soul's, but some reaction to the combination of the two. With one last pull the pain stopped, the room was silent, and Severus rose into a seated position with a gasp.
Harry Potter's hand was still pressed against Severus' neck as the spy gasped in air, wiping away tears and memories from his stained and sallow face. The flesh that had been a bleeding meat patty just moments before, was closed. Nothing was left of the wounds but savage pink lines marbling the porcelain epidermis. As he gasped for air, Severus clawed out to his Bonded Destined, holding himself steady with the bo- man's torso.
Once Severus had evened out his breathing, he raised his black eyes to stare into widened green, magnified to stare dumbstruck into Severus' irises. Severus merely raised an eyebrow, an ecstatic and uncharacteristic grin breaking across his face as he erupted with relieved, bone-deep laughter. After a second an answering grin spread across his Beloved's face and the young thing broke into relieved, joyous, momentous belly laughter.
After a few moments, Severus ground his chuckles to a halt. He hauled himself and his Beloved to their feet, steadying the other man as he looked deep into the dirty face.
"Well, Potter, I am glad that after so many years of my saving your life you have finally deemed it worth your time to return the favor."
A sudden flash of realization struck on Harry's face as he furrowed his brows, looking into the Potions Master's eyes.
"Did you know this would happen, too, sir? That we were Destined?"
Severus again melted his face into serious, grim apathy, but his eyes retained their previous sincerity.
"I have known since the hour that you were born, Harry. And I have been doing my best- as a turncoat, as your teacher, as a mentor- to help keep you alive and aid you in your journey. Unfortunately, that led me to the land of espionage and double crosses. However, rest assured that I always had your best interest in mind."
Harry studied Snape's face carefully for a moment before nodding solemnly, determinedly.
"Yes. I believe you, and I know this, now. Unfortunately, as much as I would love to go into this further I have a monster to kill and people to save. Will you accompany me, Severus?"
Severus looked deep into his former student's eyes, studiously ignoring the sternly impatient- and anxiously happy-looking Granger as well as the rumpled, flabbergasted Weasley to Severus' right. With only a moment to pause and impress his complete and utter loving sincerity to his love using his expression, Severus opened his mouth. He said the one thing that he could, the one thing that was even a possibility.
"Always, Potter. Always."