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piA/N--Hopefully the first chapter in a series, but I've never written a serialized fic before, so people may have to yell at me if they want to see more.... When you get to the end, send me over the moon by typing something in the little box--good, bad, anything so long as it's useful ^_^ Or you can give the local owl some exercise and e-mail me at chimara.geo@yahoo.com
br*Disclaimer* Severus Snape, Hogwarts, the Death Eaters, etc. are the lawful property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just taking them out for a spin--I promise to return them safely. */disclaimer*/i
pcenterhr width=50%
pbTo Taste Death/b/center
p
When he left the grounds of Hogwarts at the end of June, it was as if he was stepping into another life. Severus Snape would be doing significantly more than writing his curriculum over the holidays. If he was miserably unlucky, he thought sourly, he might help write history.
p
As he'd pointed out to Potter and his crowd once, years ago, when they'd been sitting in the library and gabbling over the great things they planned to do, historic events only happen when things have been let slide far enough to need them. The trouble was that things had slid quite badly in the last few years.
p
In fact, they looked like taking a severe drop soon. He didn't have to like McGonagall to know she didn't exaggerate, and he'd seen the body. If there was one thing Snape hated worse than stupidity, it was iwillful/i stupidity. Dumbledore ought to have taken the Ministry when it was offered to him. Unfortunately, it took a different and more serious sort of madness than Dumbledore's to want ithat/i.
p
The Hogwarts Express lurched away from the platform with a blast of its steam whistle. Sitting to himself in the front car, Snape considered who best to contact. Goyle or Nott might be reliably dense enough to make a safe bet....
pcenter~/center
p
Snape sighed inwardly. Outwardly, he was alert and a little deferent under Auguste Nott's suspicious gaze. Nott was average height, solidly built, and altogether unassuming in appearance, and currently his light brown eyes were inspecting Snape with a suspicion that looked out of place in his round face.
p
"Couldn't come? When your master summons you for the first time in thirteen years?" It was the obvious question, but Nott's tone was more held more irritation than censure. iWhy me?/i was transparently visible on his face. Yet Nott could act when he wanted to, Snape forced himself to remember. The Ministry had let him off despite some quite damning evidence--which Snape himself had collected, giving him another cause for caution.
p
"I was on the grounds of Hogwarts. Apparition is blocked, if you recall. I could hardly leave at the climax of the Triwizard Tournament without attracting interest." Snape's tone was dry despite his efforts.
p
"True, but--" Nott looked away and fiddled with his empty glass "--why do you need me to intercede? That's a reasonable enough excuse, and the Dark Lord seems in a mood for second chances." His relief of a few weeks ago slid into his voice; Snape noted it, as he had been everything else.
p
"I fear my Master's anger," he said neutrally.
p
"As you should!" Nott snorted, but did not manage to conceal the shiver in his words. "You'd be angry too, if you'd spent the last thirteen years as a wraith! But," he said, his voice filling with confidence and ambition, "he has conquered Death, and he will raise us up beneath him." Snape imagined he could see a green glow in Nott's eyes.
p
"So you'll speak for me?"
p
"I suppose.... You don't forget your debts, Severus, but I'll see to it you pay this one."
p
Snape nodded and rose. He didn't forget. His life might be simpler if he did.
pcenter~/center
p
Snape took a small room in the Leaky Cauldron, above Diagon Alley. He had nothing to do but wait for word and no interest in fooling himself with unnecessary tasks, and so he spent much of his time reading. The books he occupied himself with would not have been allowed outside the restricted section of the Hogwarts library; quite possibly Mad-Eye Moody would have had a thing or two to say about them as well.
p
It was important to stay in practice, especially now.
p
He kept the books at the bottom of his trunk. Beneath them was a secret compartment he hadn't opened in nearly twelve years. In the unlikely event that Moody let the books pass, the contents of this compartment would have sent Snape straight to Azkaban. iWelcome, please check your soul at the door,/i he thought darkly when this occurred to him. The trunk, which he ordinarily ignored as he would any other piece of furniture, now drew his eyes uncomfortably.
p
He had been in Diagon Alley a week when a small spotted owl brought word from Nott. It was in the form of a letter about his daughter, an unexceptional student of Snape's. Severus ignored the first page entirely, his focus jumping to the postscript. Nott wasn't terribly clever; it ought to be obvious-- iAh/i...
p
The postscript invited Snape to a party, the date to be announced later. A corner of his mouth curled up as he read it; anyone who knew him at all well would be suspicious of that.... But as far as he could tell the message had arrived unintercepted, and he knew, more or less, what to expect. For now, he would wait. He was getting quite good at it.
pcenter~/center
p
Being good at waiting didn't mean he enjoyed it. Three days later Snape's patience was wearing thin, as was the carpet in front of the windows, where he'd taken to pacing. He was filled with an edgy, nervous energy for which he had no outlet. It had been a long time... twelve years....
p
He couldn't sleep, and found himself awake through most of the night. He had worked with people, years ago, who possessed the soldier's ability to snatch sleep whenever possible. He had tried to pick it up, but it was unsuited to his nature. Often, then, he had gone for days on a few hours' sleep; he found himself returning to those habits now, as if in preparation.
p
Before dawn on the fifth day Snape felt suddenly drained. He sank into a chair and blinked at the open pages of iForbidden Curses/i on the table in front of him. He closed his eyes--
p
--and seventeen hours raced past.
pcenter~/center
p
He was jerked from his sleep by a searing pain in his left arm. He almost cried aloud before he remembered what it was.
p
The Mark.
p
He pushed back his sleeve to make sure--as though it could be anything else!--and the skull-and-snake grinned back at him, charcoal dark against the pale skin. The trunk in the corner crouched, waiting for him.
p
He had his few possessions out of it before he had time for second thoughts. His fingers found the handles on its bottom and he whispered the password, barely loud enough to be heard.
p
There was a click, and the false bottom came loose in his hands.
p
The black robe still fit well--frighteningly well, in fact. In the back of his mind, he could feel the other Snape, the Snape who had no place among the living. The other blinked, stirred, and grinned malevolently at him as it stalked forward.
p
Next was the cloak, heavy black wool with a tarnished silver clasp wrought in the shape of a serpent. He left the hood down, for now. The Mark began to burn stronger, almost as strong as the day it was branded.
p
His hands shook as he reached for the last object in the trunk--like the hands of an addict, or a man afraid; he wasn't sure which. It was lighter than it had any right to be, as he lifted it up and smoothed the black material over his face. Within the mask, Severus Snape, Death Eater, smiled.
p
It was a terrifying sight.
piA/N--Hopefully the first chapter in a series, but I've never written a serialized fic before, so people may have to yell at me if they want to see more.... When you get to the end, send me over the moon by typing something in the little box--good, bad, anything so long as it's useful ^_^ Or you can give the local owl some exercise and e-mail me at chimara.geo@yahoo.com
br*Disclaimer* Severus Snape, Hogwarts, the Death Eaters, etc. are the lawful property of J.K. Rowling. I'm just taking them out for a spin--I promise to return them safely. */disclaimer*/i
pcenterhr width=50%
pbTo Taste Death/b/center
p
When he left the grounds of Hogwarts at the end of June, it was as if he was stepping into another life. Severus Snape would be doing significantly more than writing his curriculum over the holidays. If he was miserably unlucky, he thought sourly, he might help write history.
p
As he'd pointed out to Potter and his crowd once, years ago, when they'd been sitting in the library and gabbling over the great things they planned to do, historic events only happen when things have been let slide far enough to need them. The trouble was that things had slid quite badly in the last few years.
p
In fact, they looked like taking a severe drop soon. He didn't have to like McGonagall to know she didn't exaggerate, and he'd seen the body. If there was one thing Snape hated worse than stupidity, it was iwillful/i stupidity. Dumbledore ought to have taken the Ministry when it was offered to him. Unfortunately, it took a different and more serious sort of madness than Dumbledore's to want ithat/i.
p
The Hogwarts Express lurched away from the platform with a blast of its steam whistle. Sitting to himself in the front car, Snape considered who best to contact. Goyle or Nott might be reliably dense enough to make a safe bet....
pcenter~/center
p
Snape sighed inwardly. Outwardly, he was alert and a little deferent under Auguste Nott's suspicious gaze. Nott was average height, solidly built, and altogether unassuming in appearance, and currently his light brown eyes were inspecting Snape with a suspicion that looked out of place in his round face.
p
"Couldn't come? When your master summons you for the first time in thirteen years?" It was the obvious question, but Nott's tone was more held more irritation than censure. iWhy me?/i was transparently visible on his face. Yet Nott could act when he wanted to, Snape forced himself to remember. The Ministry had let him off despite some quite damning evidence--which Snape himself had collected, giving him another cause for caution.
p
"I was on the grounds of Hogwarts. Apparition is blocked, if you recall. I could hardly leave at the climax of the Triwizard Tournament without attracting interest." Snape's tone was dry despite his efforts.
p
"True, but--" Nott looked away and fiddled with his empty glass "--why do you need me to intercede? That's a reasonable enough excuse, and the Dark Lord seems in a mood for second chances." His relief of a few weeks ago slid into his voice; Snape noted it, as he had been everything else.
p
"I fear my Master's anger," he said neutrally.
p
"As you should!" Nott snorted, but did not manage to conceal the shiver in his words. "You'd be angry too, if you'd spent the last thirteen years as a wraith! But," he said, his voice filling with confidence and ambition, "he has conquered Death, and he will raise us up beneath him." Snape imagined he could see a green glow in Nott's eyes.
p
"So you'll speak for me?"
p
"I suppose.... You don't forget your debts, Severus, but I'll see to it you pay this one."
p
Snape nodded and rose. He didn't forget. His life might be simpler if he did.
pcenter~/center
p
Snape took a small room in the Leaky Cauldron, above Diagon Alley. He had nothing to do but wait for word and no interest in fooling himself with unnecessary tasks, and so he spent much of his time reading. The books he occupied himself with would not have been allowed outside the restricted section of the Hogwarts library; quite possibly Mad-Eye Moody would have had a thing or two to say about them as well.
p
It was important to stay in practice, especially now.
p
He kept the books at the bottom of his trunk. Beneath them was a secret compartment he hadn't opened in nearly twelve years. In the unlikely event that Moody let the books pass, the contents of this compartment would have sent Snape straight to Azkaban. iWelcome, please check your soul at the door,/i he thought darkly when this occurred to him. The trunk, which he ordinarily ignored as he would any other piece of furniture, now drew his eyes uncomfortably.
p
He had been in Diagon Alley a week when a small spotted owl brought word from Nott. It was in the form of a letter about his daughter, an unexceptional student of Snape's. Severus ignored the first page entirely, his focus jumping to the postscript. Nott wasn't terribly clever; it ought to be obvious-- iAh/i...
p
The postscript invited Snape to a party, the date to be announced later. A corner of his mouth curled up as he read it; anyone who knew him at all well would be suspicious of that.... But as far as he could tell the message had arrived unintercepted, and he knew, more or less, what to expect. For now, he would wait. He was getting quite good at it.
pcenter~/center
p
Being good at waiting didn't mean he enjoyed it. Three days later Snape's patience was wearing thin, as was the carpet in front of the windows, where he'd taken to pacing. He was filled with an edgy, nervous energy for which he had no outlet. It had been a long time... twelve years....
p
He couldn't sleep, and found himself awake through most of the night. He had worked with people, years ago, who possessed the soldier's ability to snatch sleep whenever possible. He had tried to pick it up, but it was unsuited to his nature. Often, then, he had gone for days on a few hours' sleep; he found himself returning to those habits now, as if in preparation.
p
Before dawn on the fifth day Snape felt suddenly drained. He sank into a chair and blinked at the open pages of iForbidden Curses/i on the table in front of him. He closed his eyes--
p
--and seventeen hours raced past.
pcenter~/center
p
He was jerked from his sleep by a searing pain in his left arm. He almost cried aloud before he remembered what it was.
p
The Mark.
p
He pushed back his sleeve to make sure--as though it could be anything else!--and the skull-and-snake grinned back at him, charcoal dark against the pale skin. The trunk in the corner crouched, waiting for him.
p
He had his few possessions out of it before he had time for second thoughts. His fingers found the handles on its bottom and he whispered the password, barely loud enough to be heard.
p
There was a click, and the false bottom came loose in his hands.
p
The black robe still fit well--frighteningly well, in fact. In the back of his mind, he could feel the other Snape, the Snape who had no place among the living. The other blinked, stirred, and grinned malevolently at him as it stalked forward.
p
Next was the cloak, heavy black wool with a tarnished silver clasp wrought in the shape of a serpent. He left the hood down, for now. The Mark began to burn stronger, almost as strong as the day it was branded.
p
His hands shook as he reached for the last object in the trunk--like the hands of an addict, or a man afraid; he wasn't sure which. It was lighter than it had any right to be, as he lifted it up and smoothed the black material over his face. Within the mask, Severus Snape, Death Eater, smiled.
p
It was a terrifying sight.