Note & Disclaimer:  Only one of the characters featured are of my creation (take a wild guess which one it may be).  This is just a prologue, a precursor, to a series that is being started.  READ AND REVIEW!!!

Nightbirds

And when the wind draws strong

Across the cypress tress

The Nightbirds cease their songs

So gathers memories.

                                    -Loreena McKennitt, "Courtyard Lullaby"

Once again, it was storming hard, the wind whipping the rain around the large, imposing stone house in the middle of the forest.  Lightening occasionally allowed glimpses of the pendulous structure, but other than that, it was hidden from Muggles and wizards alike.

As Snape had intended it to be.

He had the manor since he had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and prided himself on the idea that no one, not even that smug James Potter, knew of it. Which was why, on that stormy night, the thunderous knocking on the front door surprised him. 

It was very late, Snape supposed, but he had been keeping strange hours as of late.  Wand in hand, he crossed the sparse room to the door, which trembled from the continuous knocking.  "Who is it?" he called sharply, over the howling wind. He thought he heard a reply, but it was lost in the noise.  Feeling that no one would dare come to track him down without good reason, he opened the door.

In the doorway stood a tall, but very young, witch, whose cloak and robes were drenched and windblown, telling tale of a hard ride.  "Tinuvial," he said in surprise. "What are you…?"

But before he could finish, Snape could sense that this was not a purely social call.  The lightening flashed and lighted up the young woman's elfish features.  Her large eyes, normally blue and calm, were steely gray and furious.  Her face was pale as sheets and she was breathing hard. 

"Murderer," she hissed, her entire body trembling from fury rather than the cold rain. She stepped toward Snape, who, unnerved by the normally composed and unruffled woman, moved back.  "You killed them."


"What?" he exclaimed.  "Who…? What are you talking about?"

Not breaking eye contact with him, she took another step towards him, her eyes blazing.  "James and Lily are dead.  And you killed them." 

"I did not kill anybody, Tinuvial," he said firmly, tightening his grasp on his wand. 

But she did not respond with words.  She lashed out with one arm, knocking Snape into a wall.  He was so surprised he could not react and or defend himself from the next blow that sent him to the ground.

Tinuvial picked him up by his robes and held him against the wall, her face mere centimeters from his.  "Yes, you did," she accused, her eyes filled with unshed tears.  "It was Voldemort.  Your friend." 

Snape went cold at the words.  "Why should it matter to you?" he tried to say with a sneer, but he could not put his usual coldness into the words.  He did not try to pull away from her.  Although she had only recently finished up her schooling at Hogwarts and he had a few years on her, her slenderness was misguiding to her true strength, an unnatural one born of her ancestry.  And she was beyond furious.


Tinuvial jerked the sleeve of his robe up, exposing the blazing Dark Mark.  His heart turned.  She knew.  Somehow, she knew that he was a Death Eater.  "This," she whispered coldly, but in her tone was an agonizing mixture of loss and anguish.  "This makes you their murderer.  You knew James and Lily.  You grew up with them.  And you helped destroy something so beautiful."  Her eyes shone brighter still, but she would not break. Snape felt as though there were a crack slowly starting to spread deep inside his chest.

She let go of him and moved away.  Snape did not move, but merely watched her.  He could tell she was in a lot of pain…he always was able to see her emotions where no one else could.  "Tinuvial…" he began to say, but the words would not come out.  What could he say to her?  He tried instead to touch her shoulder, but she jerked away. The pain worsened.

"I do not know if their son is alive," she said.  "If he isn't…if Harry, if my godson is dead as well…" She did not finish her statement, but Snape knew what she meant.  She stepped towards the door.

"I want you to know," she whispered, "that I hate you.  I hate you and all of your kind."  Without a final look at him, she left his house.  The pain in Snape's chest worsened.  He literally grabbed his chest and doubled over, wondering what was going on.  He did not see how Tinuvial left, but could feel it in his bones that she was gone out of his life.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder.  He turned to see Albus Dumbledore standing behind him, his face grave and eyes sorrowful.  "What are you doing here?" Snape snapped half-heartedly. 

"I had to be here in case you needed the protection," he responded, the sparkle from his eyes gone.  "You're quite lucky.  She was fully intent on killing you."


Snape's throat burned strangely. "Why didn't she?" he muttered hoarsely.


Dumbledore's eyes, too, seemed to shine like Tinuvial's had, but Snape could not tell if it was light glinting off his glasses or not.  "Perhaps because she couldn't," he answered finally.  "When she saw you, she saw a Death Eater, a follower of the man who killed people she loved, but she also saw the friend she once had."

"Friend?" Snape laughed bitterly.  "I am no one's friend."  The pain worsened and he felt short of breath.  "What's wrong?" he demanded of the old wizard.  "Why do I hurt…?"

"As if your heart were breaking?" Dumbledore suggested quietly.  Snape shuddered involuntarily, nearly convulsing from the physical pain he felt.

And it happened.  Something inside Snape, the crack he had begun to feel, was complete and a piece of his heart that he didn't even know he had was gone.  To his surprise and shame, tears began to run down his face.   He felt the horrible, aching absence of the little warmth he had known in his cold heart.  He felt as though he had just lost something precious.

Because you did, a voice deep inside him said.  You lost the only person who dared to be your friend.  This crushing, bitter knowledge overwhelmed his entire being and he only knew regret.

"Make this stop," he begged Dumbledore.  "Please, make the pain stop."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.  "Only you can do that, Severus." 

"How?" the young man asked in a hopeless tone.  He did not even feel like being alive now.  He detested himself and who he had become, but for once, his overwhelming pride was not standing in way of his feelings anymore.


"Perhaps I could help," the old wizard suggested quietly.  "But only if you can drag yourself out of this pit you have fallen into." He took Snape by the shoulders and made him look him the eyes.  "Do you want to leave the Death Eaters?" he asked intently.  Snape nodded, his eyes shut.


"Yes," he whispered miserably.

"All of Voldemort's followers are being hunted.  I could talk to the Ministry," Dumbledore continued.  "If I intercede on your behalf…but you must help yourself."

The words "all of Voldemort's followers" rang in his ears.  "What about Voldemort himself?" Snape asked.

Dumbledore's eyes were troubled.  "We don't know where he is," he confessed.  "It's very strange.  Once he was…finished with Lily and James, he tried to kill their son.  But…it seemed to have backfired from Harry to Voldemort. I don't think Voldemort is dead, but he must be close to it."

"Is the boy alive?" Snape demanded.  Dumbledore nodded thankfully.

"So…there is hope left," Snape whispered to himself.  Perhaps…perhaps his oldest and only friend would not hate him so much when news of the Potter boy's survival was out. 

Dumbledore had a slight, but sad smile on his face as he looked over his former pupil, a man once lost down a dark road who was slowly finding his way again. Yes, he thought.  Yes, there is hope left.