A sort of debut to my return to FF net. Grounded for two months. Sorry readers.
--ST
Forget Me Not
Severus Snape began the quick, swift return back to his home on Spinner's End, the Dark Mark underneath his forearm was aching in pain, and Snape touched it lightly, keeping his breathing deep. It would do no good to pass out on the sidewalk from the unbearable, explosive pain of the Mark. No, no good at all. Treading over the outgrown weeds that poked up through the cracks in the sidewalk, Snape took a quick turn towards his home, walking past a labyrinth of brick houses with dirty, a few even broken, windows.
Surprisingly, Snape's home appeared untouched by the rubbish like atmosphere of Spinner's End, the house was of brick and small, like all the other houses of Spinner's End, but unlike the others, his windows remained only marginally dirty. It may have been perhaps, of the fact that Snape had actually taken to occupying the home where almost half of his childhood troubles had began. His lawn of course, was untrimmed and eerie-like, and it looked as if it belonged to a haunted mansion rather than this most tiny house.
But at the moment, Severus Snape had no time to boast about the fact that his home remained marginally life-worthy. The Mark burned, and Snape imagined it had begun disappearing, like all others when Voldemort had been killed.
"By Potter's son." Snape thought moodily through a veil of greasy black hair, opening the black door of his home and shutting it roughly behind him. Snape's stomach dropped in anguish as the memory of Dumbledore's words flickered through his mind, and Snape's eyes dropped to the ground.
"Lily is dead, Severus."
"She and James put their faith in the wrong person. Rather like you, Severus."
"Her son survives."
"He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the color of Lily Evans eyes, I am sure?"
"And what use, would that be to anyone?"
Staring at the hem of his jet-black robes, Snape balled his pallid hands up into fists. Dumbledore, kind as he might've acted, was in truth cruel. A little tear dripped down the edge of Snape's hooked nose, and he screwed up his face as the familiar haze of pain enveloped him. Seeing the couch near one of the many bookshelves in his home, Snape moodily walked over to it and sat down, gripping the explosive Mark tightly, as if his skin had begun to melt and he was desperately trying to put a stop to it.
Sinking into the couch, cradling his left forearm, Snape tried desperately to relieve the pain. But this… this was the Dark Mark, and there was no stopping it if it began to burn. So focused on the pain, Snape's trained ears did not hear the soft, noiseless footsteps that walked from the kitchen behind the couch, nor the soft, careful breaths that escaped a perky, pointy nose. The first noise that confirmed that someone was behind him, was the dark, quiet whisper,
"Painful, isn't it?"
Snape's head snapped back to look at the intruder. Alarm set itself in his black eyes, but disappeared and turned into loathing hatred as he caught sight of his supposed intruder. The woman was slim, and wore black silk robes. Her hair was shoulder-length, swept back and a dark brown that was almost the color black. Her eyes were a vibrant, brilliant shade of blue that were framed by glasses that hung on the edge of her pointed nose. She clung to something in one hand, but Severus paid the item no mind, he was glowering at the woman, and spoke, in a silky, deadly undertone,
"And what, might I ask, brings you to my home, Harcourt? Surely you want to be running from the Aurors along with the other Death Eaters?"
Grace Harcourt touched her left forearm with the hand that wasn't clinging to the unknown item, and lifted the sleeve. Most of her own Dark Mark had vanished, and the rest that remained, a bit of the skull and the snake burned bright red, and upon looking at it, Snape was reminded of his own pain, and the grip on his own forearm tightened.
"Dumbledore vouched for me too, Severus. You were not his only spy, just his most trusted."
Snape watched her coolly through the veil of greasy black hair, and she returned the look. Grace Harcourt was also one of those in Voldemort's Inner Circle, but she did not pretend to be a spy for him, she was, apparently, only a spy for Dumbledore. Grace lifted her forearm to one of the dirty lights in Snape's home, and viewed the Mark with a pained expression on her face. Slowly, still in the same dark, quiet whisper, she hissed,
"Dumbledore had many spies, but only us two, we were the only two in the Inner Circle. You, because you're well," Grace smirked at Snape, and Snape lurched, sneering at her. "You. And myself, because I come from Harcourt's most noble and old pureblood branch."
"I assume your siblings know you're a spy now?" It was not a question, but a statement that slipped from Snape's pale lips.
"Ravan, Cassiopeia, Leila and Ignatius all know, yes. And my mother and father have disowned me. But," Grace slipped one hand into a pocket in her silky robes and took out a purple silk bag, smiling a sly smile that made Snape sneer at her even more.
"I did not leave Harcourt Manor empty-handed. I will say that the Harcourts will now know to place their money within Gringott's, instead of hiding it within their home. Stubborn gits, the lot of my family. All Death Eaters as well."
Placing the purple silk bag back within her robes, Grace imitated a high pitched voice,
"Oh, Grace! We are so-o-o-o proud of you! The name Harcourt will be honored by the Dark Lord as long as you remain in the Inner Circle!"
Snape acted as if he hadn't heard her, and was instead rubbing his forearm. A bit of the Mark had begun disappearing, slowly but surely, the Mark would disappear until Voldemort rose again, if he ever did. To get his mind off of the pain once more, he questioned through gritted teeth,
"Why are you here, Harcourt?"
"Surely Severus, we were once friends. Two loners with similar family issues? Why wouldn't I come visit an old friend, especially when he is in so much pain? Not to mention, a similar pain as mine?"
Snape snapped his head to look at her, and black eyes met glittering blue; Grace was grinning, and her smile reached the almond-shaped eyes. But Snape was not in high spirits, he was glowering at her, a look that pierced the veil of greasy hair, a look that seemed to almost have a physical form, like an arrow or a spear, a look that bore into Grace's eyes but got no further, as Snape had left his wand somewhere in the room per Dumbledore's request.
"What is in your hand, Harcourt?"
This question seemed to be something Grace was waiting for, as she smiled mysteriously and pulled out a small flower with bright blue petals that shone with a similar glitter like Grace's eyes. She held it up to her eyes and the smile thinned, but this time, the smile did not touch her eyes.
"I am leaving for a while Severus. My family has disowned me, and I now have no home. So, I am here to say goodbye, for a while. Until then,"
Grace threw the flower into the air, and apparated away with a loud pop!
"Forget Me Not, Severus, and do not forget Lily as well."
Slowly, ignoring the explosive pain in his forearm, Severus lifted the forget-me-not flower from the ground, and looked at it. For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Severus felt a tear escape his black eyes and slide down his nose, landing on one of the little blue petals of the forget-me-not flower, and slipping to the ground.
"I will forget you, Grace. But not Lily." And with those words, Snape crumpled the forget-me-not flower in his hands, and threw it into the unlit fireplace, throwing a contemptuous look at the place Grace had apparated from. She was never really his friend, that place in his heart was only for Lily. And Lily alone.
--S--
