Trading My Sorrows
By Shadow Ballad
Genre: Drama/Spiritual
Pairings: None so far
Timeline: AU fifth year, Sirius Black has been pardoned and is the DADA assistant to Lupin
Warnings: T for violence and some language. This is a story detailing a person's conversion to Christianity, so it will contain religious themes. If this offends you, please do not read and then flame me for offending you. Reader, thou hast been warned. : )
There are also some HBP spoilers, mostly just titbits about Snape, nothing too serious. Just so you know.
A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! Every single one has inspired me to keep going with the story: ) Special thanks to Ominous Voices, who has kindly offered to beta this story! So any mistakes you find are mine; in my infinite stupidity. : )
Disclaimer: I own nothing, absolutely nothing:D
Chapter Two: Pass Me Not
Pass me not, O gentle Saviour
Hear my humble cry.
And while on others, thou art calling:
Lord, do not pass me by.
I'm kneeling here in deep contrition
And would I seek thy face.
Lord won't you heal my wounded, broken spirit:
Lord, save me by thy grace.
Pass Me Not, O Gentle Saviour
Severus woke slowly, feeling more rested than he had in quite some time. A jaw-cracking yawn split his face in half as he sat up and blinked sleepily at his surroundings. A nice little desk in the corner…wait…he didn't have a desk in his bedroom!
He sat bolt upright, completely awake, his heart pounding in his chest. Where was this? Why was he here? Where was here, anyway?
Snape reached over and snatched his wand from the nightstand next to his bed, fully prepared to meet any enemy that…wait. He still had his wand. If he truly had been captured by the Death Eaters, they wouldn't repeat the same mistake twice and allow him his weapon. As that thought crossed his mind, images of being chased through a town, in the rain, and stumbling upon a church flashed through his mind.
"Bloody hell." Severus flopped back on his pillows, feeling monumentally stupid as he remembered the previous evening's events. Blearily he rubbed his eyes, wondering just how he had forgotten Pastor Beckett. It had to be very early in the morning; and he was by no stretch of the imagination a morning person. He mumbled a spell and swished his wand about.
Red light shot out of the tip and flashed '6:07' a few times before dissipating into the air. Snape groaned. For all intents and purposes he ought to be used to rising so early in the morning. At Hogwarts he usually got up only half an hour later to shower, dress, and prepare for classes. But now, he couldn't summon the energy to get out of bed, no matter how rested he felt.
Moodily he grabbed at the blankets, pulling them over his head to block the sunlight filtering in through a window above his bed. He had just gotten very comfortable and was dozing off again when someone knocked at his door.
"G'way, Albus…" he muttered into his pillow. "Saturday…snore…"
Once again the sharp knocking jolted him out of near-sleep. He was just about to deliver a rather nasty retort when Pastor Beckett's voice floated to his ears. "Severus? Are you awake in there?"
Snape just barely stopped himself from groaning. What sort of idiot got up before eight o'clock on the weekends? "I am now," he groused loud enough for the pastor to hear.
A pause, then, "Oh, I'm sorry. Well, if it's any consolation, I have coffee and breakfast ready in my own quarters. I'd be happy to share with you."
Snape nearly vomited at the thought of food so early in the day. "Coffee sounds nice," he said, attempting to sound polite and thankful. It merely came out as slightly less grumpy than before.
"Splendid!" came the cheerful voice. "I'll leave you to your business, then. My quarters are down the hallway; turn left, and it's the first door on your right. The loo is the door across from yours."
The younger wizard waited until Beckett's footsteps had died away before punching the wall irritably. Anyone that happy so early in the morning ought to be force-fed poison.
A grunt, groan, and trip to the loo later, Severus was dressed and ready to meet the pastor for coffee. He followed the directions given to him and stopped outside the first door on the right, not sure if he should knock first or just invite himself in. For a moment he was sorely tempted to burst through the door in a fit of furious energy, like he did with his Potions classes. Then he remembered the pastor's kindness (his early-morning wake-up call notwithstanding), and felt guilty for even entertaining the thought. He sighed deeply, not in the mood to be polite, and lifted his hand to knock.
Just before his knuckles met wood the door swung open to reveal the smiling face of Pastor Beckett. Snape blinked in surprise. "There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you weren't coming!" said the older man. Still smiling he gestured for Severus to enter. The Potions Master complied and indulged his curiosity to have a look about.
Pastor Beckett's quarters were not all that different from his own rooms, except that where his walls were bare, a few bookcases and murals made the pastor's rooms more personal. There was also a doorway at the far right, out of which drifted the enticing smell of fresh coffee. Beckett motioned for Snape to join him in that room, which turned out to be a small kitchen.
"I live here," said Pastor Beckett by way of explanation as he poured them each a cup of coffee. "Sugar or cream for you?" Mutely Severus shook his head, preferring his coffee black and bitter. His companion made a mock face of disgust. "Suit yourself," he said, pouring in a liberal amount of cream and a rather large tablespoon of sugar.
Despite himself, Snape felt his lip lift in a sneer. "Would you like some coffee with your sugar and cream?" he asked, scandalised that anyone would ruin good coffee in such a manner. Pastor Beckett gave him a cheery grin.
"No thanks; I rather like it this way," he said. As if to prove his point he took a large sip and sighed happily, leaning back in his chair as if he were in heaven.
Snape rolled his eyes, but wasn't awake enough yet to pursue the issue. He sipped at his coffee as the other puttered about the kitchen, fixing himself a plate of eggs and bacon.
"Would you like some?" He offered the frying pan to Severus, who took one look at it and had to take a giant sip of coffee to keep from gagging.
"No, thank you," he managed to say. The pastor mock pouted and dumped the rest onto his own plate.
"It's not poisoned, you know," he said good-naturedly, taking a large bite of his breakfast.
Severus shrugged. "Food doesn't agree with me so early in the morning," he said.
Beckett nodded in understanding. "My mother was the same way," he said. "Black coffee until ten, then maybe some toast and jam afterwards."
The two men sat in comfortable silence after that, sipping coffee and, in Pastor Beckett's case, chewing on breakfast. Severus was on his third cup of coffee when his companion broke the silence.
"I remember last night that you had a few questions for me," he said mildly. "Is this a good time to discuss them?"
Severus sighed and fidgeted in his chair. He did indeed want to ask quite a few questions, and now was as good a time as any. But…how did one go about it tactfully? He swirled his coffee about before replying.
"I…I am not sure how to say this, but…" Mentally Snape cursed himself. Oh, if only his students could see him now! The evil Potions Master, forever armed with a snarky retort, was speechless!
The pastor inclined his head encouragingly. "I'll listen and not judge you, no matter what you tell me," he said. "Go on whenever you're ready."
Snape was about to sigh and tell his companion to forget it when again the feeling that he could trust this man implicitly engulfed him. Slightly annoyed and wondering if Beckett had cast some spell on him, the younger wizard favoured the pastor with a sharp look.
His companion frowned. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
Quite fed up with tiptoeing around the issue, Snape decided on the candid, blunt approach. "You're wrong about Death Eaters not being able to come inside," he said.
The other raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh? Forgive me but, how are you so certain?" he said.
Viciously Snape grabbed his left sleeve and jerked it up on his arm. The Dark Mark stood out against his pale skin like a shadow of death. He thrust it under the pastor's nose; but as he did so, his rage melted away to be replaced by quiet shame.
"Because I am one," he said, refusing to meet the other's eyes.
He was not prepared for gentle hands to grasp his arm and pull his sleeve over the damning tattoo. Shocked, he looked up, prepared to see cold hatred on the other's face. Instead, he found warm acceptance.
"Obviously you aren't a true Death Eater," said Pastor Beckett in a voice barely above a whisper. "Otherwise, you would have been prevented from entering the church and certainly wouldn't be sitting here having coffee with me." He gave Snape one of his friendly little smiles and gave his hand a gentle pat.
Suddenly feelings of great vulnerability and deep humiliation washed over the Potions Master. Unable to comprehend them, he responded in his usual manner and jerked his hand roughly away from the pastor.
"What do you know about it?" he snarled, nearly upsetting his chair as he got up and began to pace furiously. "You're the pastor of a bloody church! The most evil thing you've probably ever done is to forget to say grace before a meal!"
Pastor Beckett gaped at him, his mouth opened in a surprised 'o' shape. He made to speak, but Snape instantly cut him off.
"No! Don't say anything! Someone like you could never understand! You've no idea of what I've done; what I've been forced to do to…to…Merlin…" he choked and nearly fell back into his chair, hiding his face in his hands. Hot tears of self-loathing threatened to embarrass him further, as if he could disgrace himself any more than by yelling at the one person besides Albus to have cared for him.
He heard the pastor clear his throat and mentally prepared to be hexed into next week. "Perhaps," said the kind voice," I would understand if you would explain."
For the second time that morning, Snape was shocked speechless. Absently he decided that he didn't quite care for the feeling, but that thought was shoved aside. Here was someone ready to listen, someone who actually wanted to try to understand him. For unexplainable reasons he felt he could trust this man as much as he trusted Dumbledore, but couldn't find the courage to act on that surety. He was not in the habit of trusting someone he'd known for less than a day…but then again, perhaps now an exception could be made.
"Take your time," said the pastor compassionately. "Whatever you say now stays between us and will not leave this room."
It was if a weight had been lifted from his tongue. Suddenly he wanted – no, needed – to talk; to confess; to explain to this man all he had done, why he had done it, and why he was beyond redemption.
"I joined the Death Eaters right after graduating from Hogwarts. It wasn't because I had a terrible home life and an even worse school life, like Al – Headmaster Dumbledore believes. Although they did help me make the decision, it was more that the Death Eaters asked me to join them. For the first time in my life, someone wanted me to be a part of their group. Me, the ugly, greasy little Slytherin loner with nonexistent social skills and an unhealthy interest in the Dark Arts." Here he barked a self-deprecating laugh. "It all sounds a bit cliché, doesn't it? The lonely misfit accepts the invitation of the less-than-legal pureblood club just so he could have friends.
I'm not even a pureblood; my father was a Muggle. I didn't buy into all their anti-Muggle and Muggle-born propaganda; after all, I would be condemning myself if I did. I just went along with it because those people accepted me; maybe even liked me. What a lot of people don't realise is that when the Death Eaters were first beginning, it was more of a social club: get together, rant about non-purebloods and politics, then go home.
Back then I was working for my Potions Mastery, and the Dark Lord promised me knowledge beyond my wildest imagination if I would help him with his 'problems.' Naturally I was flattered that a powerful wizard such as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named even noticed my existence. It was that flattery, I think, that sucked me even further into Death Eater activities. Suddenly I was brewing poisons that could kill with a single drop; creating liquid Cruciatus potions with the power of the Unforgivable curse, but unable to be detected by the Ministry; even draughts that slowly burned a person up from the inside out.
I might have gone on with the Death Eaters if I hadn't been ordered to Hogsmeade to spy on the Headmaster of Hogwarts. While I was waiting for a job interview, I heard some of a prophesy about a child who would vanquish the Dark Lord. I was discovered and thrown out of the establishment before I could hear the rest, but I believed I had heard enough and reported it to the Dark Lord. By then I had risen quite far in the ranks, having recently joined the Inner Circle, so I was allowed to attend the meeting to decide what the make of the prophesy.
I was horrified when I realised that the Dark Lord intended to kill the child of James and Lilly Potter, about whom the prophesy seemed to be about. I had known James since my school days. To say we didn't get along would be an understatement. But Lilly I genuinely liked, even though she never really liked me much; and that was my fault. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her, and I realised that if anything did, it would be my fault.
That night was the first time in two years that my conscious caught up with me. I spent a few days being violently ill before I went to Dumbledore, sick at heart with what I'd done and prepared to tell him everything, even if it meant my arrest and eventual death. I don't even remember how I got to Hogwarts, much less inside the Headmaster's office. But I told him everything, showed him the Dark Mark on my arm, and fully expected him to kill me once I finished speaking.
To my surprise, he didn't. He wasn't even angry with me! He…he pulled me into his arms and started crying, saying "You came back; I knew you'd come back to me" over and over again. Naturally I was quite shocked, and together we had a nice little crying session on the floor of his office."
Here Snape stopped, absently wiping a tear from his own eye as he gazed resolutely at the table. Surreptitiously he risked a glance at his companion and found him quietly staring at him. Immediately Severus averted his eyes and set his gaze back on the table.
He took a deep breath and began the second part of his tale. "After that, I was distraught and sickened with grief at what I'd done. I begged Albus to send met to Azkaban so I could pay for the sins I'd committed. Instead, he came up with a more creative, and harsher, penance. He asked me to be his spy among the Death Eaters and report back their movements to him. I very nearly refused. The Dark Lord was a master Legilimens, and while I knew some Occlumency, all it would take to reveal my position would be one look from him. Dumbledore offered to help me master Occlumency, and so I accepted his offer and became his spy.
I did everything I could to keep my role secret, and oftentimes that meant I had to participate in torturing Muggles and Muggle-born or brewing poisons for the Dark Lord. So, even though I was a spy for the Light, I still had to act like the epitome of Darkness. I hated it. I had thought I was done doing such terrible things, but now I did them in the name of the Light instead of the Dark. It didn't make any difference who I did them for; the fact remains that I did them, and can never be forgiven for what I've done."
Feeling rather drained now that his story was told, Snape slumped in his chair and wrapped his arms about his thin torso. Now that Beckett knew everything, it was only a matter of time before the righteous pastor threw his filthy carcass out of such a holy sanctuary.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the pastor broke the silence. "That's not true," he said quietly.
Snape whipped his head up to stare at his companion. "What?"
"That's not true," Beckett repeated, calmly sipping his own coffee.
Snape growled in his throat and unconsciously leaned forward. "What. Isn't. True?" he asked in clipped tones, suddenly on the defensive.
"That you can never be forgiven for what you've done," replied the pastor matter-of-factly.
The Potions Master snorted indelicately. "Oh, really," he drawled. "And who are you to say that with such conviction?"
"Well, for starters, I'm the pastor of a 'bloody church,'" said Beckett with a small smile.
Snape was just about to yell at him for mocking him when he realised something. "You swore," he said dumbly, rage forgotten at the moment.
Pastor Beckett shrugged. "One of my less endearing qualities," he said dismissively. "But, what can I say? I'm human. As are you, I daresay."
Again, Snape snorted. "There are many that would contest that." Then he frowned. "But enough of that. Just because you are a pastor doesn't mean you know everything and have the power to say that I can be forgiven."
Beckett appeared unperturbed at this slightly accusatory statement. "You're right, I don't know everything. But God does, and I have his Word right here." He withdrew a small book from his pocket and sat it reverently on the table. "And in God's Word, it states that if anyone should confess his sins, God is faithful and just and will forgive him his sins and purify him from all unrighteousness."
Snape blinked. "It's a nice thought," he said after a moment's contemplation. "But it sounds too simple. I can't say that I'm convinced."
Beckett's eyes gleamed as he leaned forward eagerly. He seems to be warming to his element, thought Snape absently.
"Ever heard of John 3:16?" the pastor asked in an excited voice.
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"Apparently not," mumbled Beckett. "Well, it states: 'For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For the Son of Man did not enter the world to condemn the world, but to save it.'"
"That's it?" asked Severus incredulously. "Just believe in this Son of Man fellow, admit that I've done something wrong, and I'm instantly forgiven of sins so egregious I still have nightmares about them?" He winced inwardly at that last bit. Beckett didn't really need to know he had nightmares, and he was quite embarrassed to admit it.
The pastor didn't seem to have noticed his final comment, though. "Well, not really, no. There is more, but in essence, it is that simple. Basically, if someone humbles himself before God, prays, reads God's word, and turns from his wicked ways, as well as believing that Jesus is the Christ, then he will be forgiven and saved," he said. "And the Bible goes on to say in Luke that 'there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.'"
Snape gaped at Beckett. "Is that all you do? Sit around and memorise this Bible of yours?"
Beckett gave him a genial smile. "Well, I am the pastor of a bloody church!" he chuckled.
Snape could see right now that what he had originally intended as an insult was quickly turning into a slogan of sorts.
"Besides," said Beckett, serious once again, "I believe that all people are loved by God and need Jesus Christ as their Saviour. That includes you, by the way," he added, a twinkle in his eye that reminded Snape strongly of the Headmaster. "And once they accept Him, they will be redeemed and forgiven and free from the condemnation of sin."
He gave Snape a look that could only be described as triumphant and sipped his coffee. The Potions Master was just about to sit back in his chair and mull over the information given him when the pastor began to cough and choke.
"It's cold," Beckett spluttered, making a terrible face. Snape smirked and returned the triumphant look upon the pastor.
"So I noticed," he said silkily. Beckett made another face at Severus before getting up, rinsing out his mug and putting it in the sink.
"Are you done with yours?" he asked politely. Snape nodded and handed over his mug to be washed.
"Well, did I answer your questions to your satisfaction?" the pastor asked, turning around and placing his hands on his vacated chair.
Snape nodded slowly. "Yes, I believe you did. You've certainly given me quite a lot to ponder over, in any event."
Beckett smiled. "Well, I'll leave you to ponder it, then. I've still got to prepare for my sermon tomorrow. A word of advice: if you're ever preparing a sermon to deliver on Sunday, don't wait until Saturday to do it." He chuckled and bid Severus good day before leaving, humming as he walked out the door.
Snape shook his head in amazement at the man's good humour before getting up and wandering back to his room. The parchment and ink caught his eye. He really should write a letter to Albus; let him know that he was found out, but was perfectly safe for the moment. The only question was: did Pastor Beckett have an owl to deliver it?
Making up his mind to ask, the Potions Master made his way to the pastor's study. Beckett was sitting at his desk, surrounded by books and loose parchments. He seemed to be in the middle of writing something, as there was a quill in his hand. He kept tapping the feather against his cheek, as if he didn't know what to write, and was glaring at the parchment much the same way Snape stared at first-year essays.
Not wanting to disturb the other man, Snape cleared his throat and took a step into the room. Beckett looked up, a bit startled, but smiled when he saw his guest. "Ah, Severus! What can I do for you?" he asked kindly.
"I was just wondering if you had an owl that I could borrow," said Snape. "I wanted to write a letter to my employer to let him know where I am and that…" Here he paused, not sure if he should invite himself into Beckett's company unasked. "…that I would like to stay for a little while longer," he finished, voice barely above a whisper.
Beckett, however, didn't seem the least bit angry at Severus's inviting himself to stay. "Really? You want to stay? Splendid!" he exclaimed, clearly ecstatic with the idea. "Thaddeus – my owl – is in the bell tower. Silly thing; it's a miracle he isn't deaf." Beckett shook his head incredulously at his familiar's behaviour. "Ah well. Anyway, to get there just take the right hand fork at the corner and take the stairs at the end of the hallway. I might add that if you bring a treat, he'll get the letter to your employer faster."
Severus thanked the pastor and returned to his room to write his letter to Albus. He took a sheet of parchment, dipped a quill in the ink, and managed to write "Headmaster," before realising he didn't know what to say. Headmaster: I was discovered as a spy and tortured, but managed to escape before they killed me. I'm at a church in Merlin knows where, and even though I have duties teaching at Hogwarts, I want to stay longer because the pastor is quite nice and is telling me very interesting things.
He sighed and scrunched up the parchment. How did one tell one's employer that one was safe, but unwilling to come back to work because one's rescuer had said some intriguing things about forgiveness and redemption?
Absently he swished the end of the quill back and forth across his lips. What to write? He snorted, finally deciding on something quick, simple, and not too informative should the owl fall into enemy hands.
Letter written and rolled up, Snape walked down the hallway, turned right, and took the stairs to the belfry only to be met with a trap door. Impatiently he reached up, opened the door, and climbed the rest of the way into the tower. Inside hung an enormous bronze bell, nearly as tall as Severus. It smelled like the owlry at Hogwarts and was coated in a thin layer of dust, but surely wasn't big enough for an owl to hide in.
He searched about the small room, looking for the owl, when it suddenly landed on his shoulder and began biting his ear. "Hey!" Snape shouted, swiping the bird off his shoulder. It gave an indignant squawk and landed on a nearby rafter, the wind from its wings stirring up the dust and making Severus choke.
Snape, none too fond of owls to begin with, glared at the creature. It was covered in scraggly dark grey feathers and was so fat the Potions Master couldn't see its feet. Big yellow eyes glared into Severus's black ones, and for a moment man and owl held a staring contest.
Severus, quite used to glaring down anyone and everyone, won, and with a grumpy hoot the owl allowed him to tie his letter to its foot. "Take this to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Snape told it gruffly. He walked to a small window and opened the shutters so the owl could fly out.
When he turned around, Thaddeus the owl hadn't moved a single feather.
"Well? What are you waiting for, Christmas?" snapped Snape, very annoyed with the animal. The owl blinked lazily at him with its big yellow eyes, but didn't move.
Growling to himself, Snape walked over to the owl and flapped his arms to frighten it into motion. "Fly! Out! The window!" he yelled, taking a swipe at the owl when it didn't budge. Thaddeus hooted indignantly and flew to another rafter, taking the time to preen its feathers as it settled back down.
Beyond vexed, Snape huffed over to the creature and decided that what it needed was a little motivation, in the guise of chucking it out the window. "All right, you bloody stupid mangy chicken! Out you go!" With dexterity usually shown in the Potions classroom, Snape reached up and snatched the owl off the rafter before the bird could peck his hands. "Gotcha!" he cackled evilly.
Thaddeus hooted angrily and attempted to nip Snape's fingers, but it couldn't manoeuvre its neck around its own bulging stomach and eventually gave up. Snape gave the bird a rather sinister smirk before tossing it out the window. It squawked and fell a metre or two before it began to fly away, shooting a menacing yellow-eyed glare at Snape before it took off into the open air.
Snape rubbed his hands together triumphantly before turning and making his way back down the stairs. Perhaps there was a book about this whole redemption affair he could borrow from Pastor Beckett…A small smile curved his lips at the thought, and, drained from his encounter with Thaddeus, he went in search of a book and a comfortable chair to read it in.
A/N: Hello, and thanks again for all your reviews and support! And to those readers who didn't review, thanks for reading: ) I know this chapter was kind of boring, but never fear! A few more, and our beloved Severus will be back at Hogwarts, and then the fun can begin!
:D Hopefully you'll stay around for it: )
Cheers,
Ballad
