Title: War of Wills: Severus Snape

Author: The Scrybe

Email: M

Fandom: Harry Potter

Summary: Severus Snape, a confession, an admission, a repent. The abridged book he published after the war.

Before you read this, I must inform you that this is not an account of all knowing omniscience. I can only inform you of where I have been, what I have done. I can not tell you the thoughts of others, only what I experienced, or only their reactions to the things I have fared. I cannot tell you of things word by word, I can only repeat things from memory, and memory sometimes, thank merlin, is not always exact and detailed. I must warn you, though, that before you go on to turn the page, there are things that may offend, or disturb. Some of these things I to this day cannot believe. These are the accounts of my life, Severus Ebonan Snape, these are my memoirs, this is my story, this is my confession, this will be my downfall.

Introduction:

It's quite strange the things one can get used to. Somewhere along the line death became a normality, a part of my life of espionage and secrecy that was no longer a huge grief, yet, rather, a necessary evil. The thought of a better good. I don't know when the screams of pain and torture became a lullaby to my nightmarish slumber but they did. And I've managed. I've dealt with them best I could, and I moved along. I've gotten used to blood stained on calloused hands, black cloth sullied with scarlet, I've even gotten used to the blame. I know that when this war is over, I'll return damaged, that I won't be able to be fixed, or mended. I won't be able to adjust to normality, I wont be able to conform to a world I've helped form. I'll be tortured myself.

It's quite weird that one can adjust to taking lives, torturing souls. After the first few attempts, I must say it was indeed hard, I learned not to look the dead in the eye. I am not a disturbed man. Contrary to beliefs, I have a heart. Although on many occasions, I escaped murder. But there were times I couldn't. I made the mistake of looking death in the eye, and challenging him. The last breath of a person killed by your hands is the most terrifying thing imaginable. They always haunt me. And I know, that in the days of peace and good fortune, I will still be tortured, I'll be repaid for all of those I killed, all those I have tormented I will never have my peace. My reward for self suffering will be more self suffering. "Some may die so that others may live." It's quite strange the things one can get used to. . . .

There were cotillions, I used to attend, with mother and my brother, Sarcadem. Mother always said that a woman introduced to society for the first time was a woman we could mold, a woman who would obey and serve. I never minded mother, for all intensive purposes we just amused her, Mother wasn't of sane mind at that time. Nevertheless, I met Bellatrix there. Her hair, as dark as night without stars and as long and wavy as the any river that flowed brushed against my arm, and the silky tresses beckoned for me. It was her sister's cotillion. I had no interest in the blond. Although, my brother did. Her eyes were an azure that would break the sky's stare. I fell in love immediately. We talked, I flirted, she seemed annoyed. In the end, she took my name, and where I was, she told me to expect something from her soon. I could only hope. That was my last cotillion.

It's not known the exact moment mother went insane. Father insisted it was the day she birthed our sister, Sylvia, having gone mad at the thought of having a girl. Mother detested girls. "They were only good for marrying," she said. Funny how she would never include herself, for she was just "above" femininity. Father wasn't much different from Mother. He locked himself in his lab all day, mixing and stirring. He'd run down the stairs of the house, screaming for my mother, Amelia, telling her that he'd found it or that he'd discovered something new, only to have his cauldron blown up hours later. Life was good then.

I adored Sylvia. She was my everything. Anything she asked for, she received. Mother ignored her, and father was never around enough to acknowledge her presence. Sarcadem, well Sarcadem was being Sarcadem practicing his hexes on the house elves somewhere. I remember the day Bella wrote me, three weeks after her sister's cotillion, I was playing a game with Sylvia. The owl was black, raven even. The scroll was of the finest paper, her letters in a curved calligraphy I never saw before coming from the hand of a sixteen year old girl. She told me of her days since the cotillion, explaining, but never apologizing, for her slow reply. She left the letter with simply: "Bye from Bella Black" and she hoped I'd reply soon. I did.

I sat cross legged in front of the fireplace, listening to the talk coming from my parent's room. I wrote her a three paged letter, front and back, telling her how much I'd like to see her. I sent it by Reptilian, the owl my father kept. The next letter I received was only an address and a time. I didn't know it, but that would be the night I would lose my virginity. It was also be the night I took Bella's. She opened the door in lovely blue robes, robes that fell to her ankles gracefully, and wrapped seductively around her waist. Her only words had been "I've been betrothed." And the rest of the night, though embarrassingly, had been attempt after attempt to satisfy the woman who willingly gave herself to me. We parted, and that was the last I heard of Bella Black, well, for the time being anyway.

Father came in once, breaking my life and shattering the calm that approached before the storm. Like a hurricane, he came in, grabbing my mother from my side and walking with her to the kitchen. We heard them arguing all the way in Sylvia's room. He had done it, my father had taken the dark mark. His brewing and mixing had been abandoned, in hopes to give to a god greater than himself. Mother refused to join him. Sly and Melia had fallen, like gravity stricken apples from a tree of happiness.

Mother was committed, to a fortress somewhere along the dank magical area in central England, and father seemed pleased by it. She was no longer a pawn to his master. But father did take notice in Sylvia. Soon enough, by my seventeenth birthday, we had been living alone for the summer, to make sure none of my father's cohorts had touched my sister. For all we knew, Sarcadem had succumbed to the dark forces, joining my father along the ranks. Sylvia and I were safe.

In all the time I had spent at Hogwarts, I had never doubted a decision made by Albus Dumbledore. Until he suggested I join the males in my family with Voldermort. He promised to keep my sister safe, if I'd give my life to him, if I'd give my life to the war. "Some may die so that others may live," he said. I asked him why me, and he simply replied, "You are the only one I can trust." I could never deny the old man. I joined that year, and graduated soon after. I came back to work for him three months later, as a Potions master. I had studied under the tutelage of Nicholas Flammel and my father, Sly Snape. I found out later, as a Deatheater, that Bella had also joined the ranks, along with her husband, Rudolfus. She was a Lestrange.

I hadn't killed for Lord Voldermort, I simply brewed his potions and branded his newcomers. My main job was to spy on Albus Dumbledore. Quite ironic I'd say. I met Lucius there. His hair was almost the same color as Bella's sister, his wife, Narcissa. Lucius Malfoy was normal when I met him. Then the raids began. He ravaged women while their husbands watched, or left with their children, and sent back pieces of their bodies later. Lucius had been corrupted by insanity and touched by madness. We all wondered what he did to Narcissa. I killed for Voldermort once. He'd commented on my unforgivables. "They only work when you mean them Severus." And he had meant his, the burning went through my body like liquid ice. Quite the opposite. I killed a girl that night. After I took her. I meant that unforgivable. I meant it because I had to. Life was unbearable. But Sylvia was safe. And I was helping the war effort. And then, the famous trio arrived.

A/N: I don't know where this came from, but I needed to go off course with the light and bubbly that is Velvet Truths and Wool Misconceptions. This is something more serious. None of the stories I write are connected, so names may be different. Please read review and continue reading after this chapter.