Disclaimer: I own nothing!
A/N: This was written for nanabananaxx3's Ignorance challenge on We were supposed to write a fic around the quote – "Ignorance is bliss. Cherish it." This is what I came up with. Also, a million thanks to my beta, Zenny, who beta-read this on an insanely short notice. Oh! I almost forgot…make my day, review!!
The flickering flame of a single candle that was resting on the heavily carved mantelpiece threw a sickly-yellow light on the dark sitting room below it. It illuminated the hunched over, shaking figure of the Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, who was crouching on the stone floor before the fireplace, where the soot and embers of the crackling fire that had burned out several hours ago still remained.
The sole occupant of the room was sobbing silently, tears rolling down the tip of his hooked nose before falling to his black robes. He clutched at his black hair and struggled to clear his mind…only to think of her again – it was nearly always of her. His thoughts strayed back in time and dwelled on the richness of her dark red hair, the beauty of her smile, the soft melody of her voice…the way she looked at him when they were young, before the world got in the way.
"Back before he got in the way…no," he whispered to himself. "…before they did."
Severus Snape stood and began to pace restlessly about the small room. The quarters assigned to him resided in the dreariness of the dungeons and thus possessed no windows, but then again he didn't need to look out and see the moon's passage across the sky to know it was horribly late. The wizard sighed, knowing he would be tired and irritable during his lessons the following morning, but that was nothing new, and besides, the students were already used to his bad attitude and wouldn't dare complain. He loathed teaching; this was only his second year in the post of Potions Master, but he was already well aware that this job was not the best one for him. Yet, it was the only job for him. No one would hire an ex-Death Eater. No one but Albus Dumbledore, the Muggle-loving fool.
"Ah, but I, too, am a Muggle-loving fool," he thought to himself. "No, not Muggle…Mudblood." He shook in anger at that thought and released a harsh, tortured scream that only he could hear. "NO! Not Mudblood! Muggle-born." White hands pulled at his hair in anguish. "Why couldn't it have been me? Why her?"
The man pulledthe sleeve of his left arm up to the elbow and looked downat the Dark Mark; it had faded slightly but refused to go away completely. Pearly white scars snaked all around it where he had tried to curse it from his skin - when the wound healed it had come back, unblemished and whole, every time.
It had been exactly one year since her death, and night after night he continued to relive the moments he had spent with her, the times when they were children and blood and death and Dark Lords had meant nothing to them. Then his mind strolled along to when those things had begun to matter- when he chose his side and she chose hers. Oh, how he wished now that those sides had been the same. He would do anything to get his hands on a Time Turner, to go back and change the past, to save her life…to save his own soul.
His mind strayed away from her and to the horrible acts he had committed in the name of the Dark Lord and his ideals. He had been enamoured by the power and prestige that being a Death Eater would invariably bring him. He realizednow that he had been blinded, so fully that even his love for her could not save him. Perhaps if she had only loved him in return, then they both could have been saved. Alas, it was not meant to be - she had been brutally murdered and his soul had been ripped to shreds. The ex-Death Eater knew, as assuredly as he knew that he would love her until the day he died, that he would eventually be cast into Hell. "No, not cast," he thought. "...for I am already there."
He had failed to ask, before signing up, how many he would be required to murder. He had failed to ask how many he would be required to torture. He had failed to ask how many families he must rip apart. He had failed to ask these things ...and even when he had to prove himself by torturing and killing two of his fellow schoolmates, the blinders were not ripped from his eyes. He succeeded in pleasing the Dark Lord, was gifted with the Dark Mark, and he sunkfurther into the depths. "If only that had been the worst of it."
He remained blissfully ignorant for months...years even. No longer was he to be put down, made fun of and embarrassed in front of his peers. He was someone now – a man to be admired, feared and respected. The Death Eater pillaged, captured, tortured, raped and murdered – and he enjoyed it. For the first time in his life, he was happy. Though, in spite of that, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that if the ideals he fought for ever put him in a position where the woman he loved would be imprisoned, tortured, raped and killed…and he was the one called upon to perform those deeds, just like he'd been called upon to many others of her bloodline, he wouldn't be able to do it. He knew, without a doubt, that he would sacrifice his own happiness, his own life even, so that she could live.
His mind drew him back to the night that the mask fell away, to the night that he was brought forcibly back to reality, to the last night that he saw the woman he loved alive and to the last night he could remember being truly happy.
He was in a field in the dead of night, but it wasn't dark – spells being fired from dozens of wands took care of that by casting a multi-coloured glow over everything. He was battling with an aging Order member and he smiled as the fighter fell, bleeding, to the glistening white snow. He turned and there they were, the four boys… men now, he corrected himself, whohad made his life a living hell at school. Pettigrew and Lupin sprinted off into the darkness, chasing after one of his fellow masked figures. Black was fighting someone already, but Potter just stood there, looking wildly around as if he had lost something, or someone.
A sneer crossed his features and he lunged forward, aiming his trademark curse at the arrogant man. He watched in anticipation as the jet of light sailed straight toward him…and passed under his adversary's upraised right arm, striking a person who had just ran up in the chest. Everything seemed to slow down as he recognized the ringing scream of the woman who crumpled to the ground. There was a brief moment in which he felt that he was rooted to the spot. He closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them he would see James lying prone on the snowy ground and not her…
He rushed to her side, knocking Potter out of the way. He sank down to his knees next to her, the snowing melting and soaking into his robes, and began muttering the counter curse that would heal the deep cuts that bloomed all over her body. He was nearly halfway done when a blow to his left ear sent him sprawling sideways, knocking his mask off. He looked up into the face of James Potter and screamed, "Let me help her!"
Potter stumbled back in shock at seeing who was behind the mask and nodded at Severus, who rose up and continued with the counter curse. The light slowly seemed to return to Lily's eyes, and they focused on him. Recognition filled them and they widened in shock as she whispered, "Sev?"
"Oh, God, I'm sorry, Lily, I'm sorry," he said hoarsely, still waving his wand about. "I was aiming for Potter, not you…never you." He stared into her eyes and watched as pure hatred filled the beautiful green orbs that Severus Snape had so often found himself falling into.
He had saved her then, Lily Evans Potter, the woman he had loved for as long as he could remember. She in turn saved him when he saw himself in her eyes; saw himself as he truly was – hateful, ugly, cowardly and evil. Yes, it was then that he returned to reality - the harsh, choking, and painful reality that is life. The mask of ignorance was ripped away by the mirror of her eyes and the reformation began. Too soon after that encounter, she died, and with her went the last shreds of happiness that he had managed to cling to.
Ignorance is bliss. Cherish it.