To Severus Snape, each of his memories were reflected in a scar, made real by the jagged cuts that blemished his pale skin. Each line that pierced his body reminded him of someone, something-someone, something else that had been ripped away from him, shredding his heart into innumerable pieces, tearing his soul until there was nothing left.

From the beginning, nothing had been easy. The scars had begun to form even in the beginning, and they grew as Severus grew colder and colder, distancing himself in an attempt to protect his already shattered state. The scars started early, and Severus blamed himself for each one, as he would for the rest of his life. Abuse's ragged forms decorated his body, leaving its mark on the tender skin that was just growing into that of a man. Even as a child, pain was a daily part of his life, and scars were reminders to be strong and still fall apart at the same time- show nothing, only break on the inside. Severus always knew he was the sacrifice.

From that abuse, Severus hardened. No longer was he the little boy who cowered; now he was the man too young who was afraid behind his shield. Not many would see the difference, but Severus saw it; and he also saw the deeply complicated maze that his mind was becoming. Scars not only decorated his body, but also his mind.

The one friend he had ever made knew of his scars, and she was the most beautiful thing Severus had ever laid his eyes on. For once, he had been happy, and for once, he had something to live for besides the abuse he faced at home and the weakness he felt in his mind. He had something to live for. But when he betrayed her with a poorly chosen word alongside with the biggest mistake of his life, turning to the Dark, Severus grew even colder. Once again, something- everything- he had wanted had been pulled away, adding to the cruelty of the world that Severus saw so clearly.

The Dark drew him early on because of it's raw power and it's demand of obedience from it's followers. At first, Severus wanted that power. He wanted, for the first time in his life, to be in control; he wanted to be able to have a say in his life; and most of all, he wanted to not feel weak. But as he continued throughout the desperate darkness that was his life, instead of power all he received were yet more scars. Life had it in for him, and instead of the Dark offering him power, all it had done was shoved more pain into his face unceremoniously and ungraciously. The Dark was not only concerned with power, as Severus soon learned; the Dark and its leader were obsessed with obedience and, ultimately, punishment. It was not all Severus had hoped for, and new types of pain were experienced and endured. More scars, and more things to overcome.

As a teacher, he hid his pain behind a mask of unpleasantness, choosing to shield himself from as much of the world as he could, as not to get hurt further. It was an unconscious and eventually unsuccessful attempt, but Severus had never truly grasped just how broken of a man he was until Albus Dumbledore had pointed it out to him and shattered the mask Severus had so carefully built.

The unbreakable mask had finally been broken, and it took all of Severus' strength to actually allow himself to cry. Dumbledore was the father Severus had never had but had always wished for in his deepest moments, when he was hiding alone, nursing his injuries from abuse, watching more scars slowly form, and wondering what he had done that had made him so unworthy of love. Dumbledore was the second of the two people who had seen the scars in their full entirety; one night, many nights after the old man had learned Severus' full story, Severus had removed his shirt and shown Dumbledore his back. He could see the man fighting internally to not show surprise or disgust, and losing; but he had had conflicting feelings about receiving sympathy. The heart in him wanted it, craved it- and understanding and loving person to tell him that he had done it, that they were proud of him- but still, the soul in him was only focused on being strong enough for the
moment.

Turning to the Light after the Dark was the easiest and the hardest decision Severus ever had to make. He eventually devoted his life to Lily, the girl he loved- her son needed his protection, and Severus' fate as a sacrifice was sealed. But the power would be gone, his options to do whatever he wished and make other people pay for the pain he himself was feeling- that was gone, and although he had never wanted it and almost never used it, the loss nearly crushed him. Severus had emptied himself, made himself nothing, for the service of others. Dumbledore had convinced him, and even Severus himself would admit that it hadn't taken much; but still, Severus couldn't back out of a contract with the Dark. He had its Mark on his arm, and when it burned he could feel part of his heart dying as he knew what would be coming; more pain for himself and more pain for others, a tireless, never-ending circle of agony, both self-inflicted by decisions and inflicted on
others. Severus hated it, and he hated himself for it. More scars were added.

But the information that Severus was able to pass onto the Light was valuable, more so than even he knew, and it prevented many deaths of faces he had not seen, names he did not know, names he did not want to know. He didn't want to know the names and faces of the victims he was forced to torture and kill, all at the Dark Lord's word; he didn't want to know any details of the life he was ending without a choice. He tried to alleviate as much suffering as he could, but Severus knew that there was always someone watching, and he was always on the edge. Because of his position and because of the extremeness of danger that accompanied it, Severus grew in strength. He became unbreakable- the walls he had built in his mind were so strong that only one man, Dumbledore, could even come close to attempting to dent them.

His mind was his sanctuary, the one place he could and would let himself cry and be weak. In his sanctuary he could dwell in the past, remember all the things he had lost and wish with all his might that he still had them. In his mind he could hide from the pain and agony he was forced to endure- he could hide, and in his sanctuary he felt nothing. He played the part. Day after day, night after night, he fulfilled the duties of someone loyal to the Dark, gaining trust and rank until he could practically affect decisions, but still be subordinate to the Dark Lord; day after day, night after night, he endured the pain and punishment for one purpose: to save the world quietly, secretly, through the offering of himself as a sacrifice, as someone willing to die because of the scars that were already inflicted on his body. Through his sacrifice he honored the sacrifice of the woman he loved, and he could feel himself grow stronger at the thought of joining her
in death. He waited for it, but he did not wish for it.

But he could still feel himself breaking, in those moments when he was alone, in those moments when no one was looking. He was the evil one to anyone who didn't know better, as almost no one did; he was the one loyal to the Dark, in the face of those loyal to the light. He was alone, and he broke because of it. Dumbledore was his comfort and the only thing that helped him hold on, that wise old soul that was so meddling and so manipulative but also so kind and caring; he was the one who helped Severus be strong, through his kindly words and his fatherly attitude. In front of Dumbledore Severus could break, and not be reprimanded or degraded for it; in front of Dumbledore, being weak and feeling pain was something that could be used to your advantage. It made you alive, it made you feel; numbness only made you immune to righteousness, and Severus was comforted but not healed by the truth in those words.

Severus hated the act he was forced to play, and the lie he was supposed to live; every day, he had to be cruel to sustain a reputation; every night, he had to lower himself to kiss the hem of the robes of the Dark Lord. In every way, he was weak and growing weaker, but no one saw it but himself, inside his sanctuary. He never showed it, never gave a hint of it except to Dumbledore and Lily; but the force of his scars, the pain of being alone and being forced to be strong- that was what truly drained him and left him helpless, writhing and drowning in a pool of evil and good, Light and Dark, that he couldn't seem to get out of no matter how hard he tried. He tried to get out of it, and couldn't; but still he played the part, and he played it well.

The world grew colder when things took an, if even possible, turn for the worse. Dumbledore died at Severus' own hand, but not by his choice; and slowly but steadily, growing in speed as the years progressed, Severus was losing even more of what he loved until there would be nothing left. As much as he fought it, he could feel himself going numb.

The end was near, and Severus knew it. It was nearly time for the closing act, the staple of the show, and he was prepared for it and he hadn't thought he was scared. But when the final battle commenced, the turning point of all those years and the climax after so many deaths, Severus couldn't help but feel fear. The cruel face of death and the harsh reality that his life would really, truly be ending hit him like a dead weight, and he was scared.

When he died, his last thoughts were of his scars. Each one was a memory; each one served as a reminder. He hadn't broken; no, he had been strong on the outside. He had been strong, even though he had been required to break. He hadn't, and he had the proof to show it; jagged lines piercing his body, piercing his soul, serving as a reminder to all who knew him; he had been a sacrifice, and he had played the part.

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I was inspired, and I wrote this. Severus Snape is one of my favorite characters, and I think this is pretty deep. What do you think? Please review.