A/N This piece may confuse some of you; I will try to explain here.
The pieces in normal font are what are happening in the "present" day i.e. after the war.
The pieces in bold are Snape's collected memories/recollections/thoughts of the past.
The pieces in italics are snippets of one scene which will become increasingly noteworthy as time goes on.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for… well yer… nothing.
SSNM
I confess myself not a romantic man. Where others take comfort in one or another dispensable hussy I retire to my books and scrolls, frowning at the light penetrating in crackling neon flashes from the muggle side of my Leaky Cauldron single room.
As bachelors go, I am not a very eligible one. I have not a large fortune to speak of and no great title to proceed me, indeed the gambling of my father has produced a fortune of debt and lifetime of enemies in both the muggle and magical world.
Nor am I particularly handsome; a nose which is rather too long and hooked, hair (which has thankfully not a single grey) but is somewhat neglected, long and shaggy in the most unappealing way for long and shaggy hair to be. Eyes which have seen too much and are tinted for it and pale skin from dislike of company and therefore lack of sunlight.
And the opinion of children alike only to the Wicked Witch of Hansel and Gretel fame... except the bit about them tasting good with potatoes; that, I confess, I have yet to try.
So, I put this question to you, how is it that I came to fall in love with a beautiful woman and, the puzzling thing, she with me?
I find my mind clouded with this thought among others of a similar nature. Perhaps this is merely an attempt to empty my head, sort my memories and clear my conscience. But if so I have yet to reap the rewards of my plight. But there is no doubt this has changed me. I have come to terms with everything that has happened and now I realise I want people to know the truth at all costs. As one last tribute to her.
As I sit writing this I feel I should revise my first statement. I was not a romantic man. But she bought out things in me I never thought were there. Perhaps that being one of them.
SSNM
This has taken the better part of a decade to collect. Searching through old volumes, stealing memories and crossing over statements. Taking me thousands of miles from place to place. This project has consumed me, depriving me of sleep, food and company. Making itself the only thing present in my mind. But I never regretted it, not once. I did it for her. So people knew what really happened in the life of my flower.
SSNM
Two young men, tall and handsome as young men go, stood in the middle of a large and rather expensive drawing room at the residence of Mr and Mrs Black.
The other two figures made present were somewhat stout and portly, with sombre expressions one is rather more familiar with at a funeral then in such a drawing room. But indeed, perhaps these expressions, had the men not entertained them on their faces since birth, were very appropriate for the occasion, if not the place, for the discussion in hand was not a light one. Indeed, the talk was on the subject of futures, not their own but their daughters, of which there was no sign, for these men were content to plot about such a mater without those it related to present.. This was indeed worthy of an expression of woe and discontent.
There had been a silence for sometime now when presently it was broken by the youngest man there, whose child had been born not a month before. This man, tall and handsome though he was, possessed the brain capacity of a teaspoon, which was unfortunate for, had he had a little more brains, allowing him the taxing ability to make decisions by himself, this whole unfortunate affair might have been avoided. Perhaps, then, everything would have turned out differently. As it stood, however, he was not only undeniably dim, but also dependant on the guidance of those all too self-important to have that kind of power. Guidance which refused to let him see his wife as the beautiful, charismatic and intelligent women that she was, and consequently resulted in the many affairs she was later famed for in the wizarding world. Maybe, if he had paid her as much attention as he did his egotistic mentors or paid as many compliments as he did galleon to his employees they would have become the perfect family he was always promised, instead of what happened in reality. But the past cannot be changed and the conversation developing is just one of many meetings to discuss the idea of arranged marriages between the Black's, Malfoy's and Lestranges. The triad of Dark families in the Wizarding world.
I would be lying o myself if I thought that the pureblood marriages taken place would be more or less difficult than those of half-blood or even muggle-wizard relation (my home-life being how it was). But the idea of my dear Narcissa being haggled over like a piece of dead meat while she was still unable to walk, chills my already considered heartless bones.
The things these partnerships were decided on were sick in themselves, but as I have already been told that was "how it was done".
And so commences the meeting that would change four children's fate.
Taken from the memories of the late Castor Lestrange on the 12th November. Willingly
SSNM
Upon reaching the anniversary of the first month of my investigations, I will admit it became apparent I would need the assistance of my estranged Godson, Draco Malfoy-resident of room 114 in Azkaban's Death Eater Wing. However, the strictly regulated visiting rights prohibited the allowance of matters I had need to discuss. I am, however, and always will be a Slytherin and due to my sickeningly Gryffindorish role in the war I have enough influence to at least get some clue of what I need to know, and intend to use it.
Thanks to Harry-lived-more-times-than-is-humanely-possible-to-count-Potter, no Death eater was actually executed, but rather sentenced to a life sentence in Azkaban. This, in my opinion, is highly impractical as we still have to feed the bastards.
Thus I found myself stalking up and own a dingy waiting room, full of nothing but chilling air and haunting memories. Shaklebolt, who had been stationed in the prison since the escape attempt two years previously, looked at me through cold eyes, clicking his knuckles in what he obviously considered an intimidating manner. I rolled my eyes.
Most of the evidence against my being a Death Eater at the end of the War came from Dumbledore's portrait, which didn't seem to realise I had killed him. In Kingsley's opinion, that didn't count for much, which was good because Kingsley's opinion didn't mean much to me either.
Presently I was shown though into the visitation area. After the War, the dementors, feeling only for more souls, returned to the Ministry and were stationed back in Azkaban, much to the gratitude of the general public, who felt the prisoners deserved it. But, I must admit, having never visited Azkaban before this, I was beginning to feel no one deserved this.
Draco's childhood was something of a mystery to near everyone who met him. Only Pansy and Blaise, his two closest, knew the full truth. Before he came to Hogwarts I hadn't seen him since before the end of the First War, and didn't know what to expect. My mind half way between the reality of a cold, proud little boy and the ideal of a warm, loving child, it crushed me how much like his father he was.
That is until about a month into his first year, he was getting regular presents, treats from his parents he claimed. I knew Lucius and there was no way treats were going to be exchanged between them, ever. When he received a bottle along with the treats, I took it upon myself to find out what was going on, so I took a sample, and what I saw, what I found, still makes me cold with guilt. And I have never forgiven myself.
SSNM
Seven years old was a respectable age to meet one's future spouse. When children were seven they were old enough to be obedient without hesitation, innocent without complete naivety and were beginning to lose the unsavoury childish qualities of appearance.
"Getting along" was of little consequence, "friendship" was an impossible and highly unnecessary result and "love"? Well that was ac conclusion not to be spoken of. As far as anyone was concerned this was merely the first meeting in a long-term business transaction. Emotions were drawbacks, not aids and this was where the parents fell short. They couldn't control their aristocratically strong-willed and cultured children's opinions any more than they could the weather.
And the opinions of Narcissa Black were not good ones.