"Sss for Ssseverusss, Ssssssss for Ssssssnape. Sssssssss for sssssssnake."

The dark haired woman ran her hand up her thigh as she smiled at Severus, the emerald silk of her gown sliding over her pale skin as she flicked her forked tongue over her black lips.

"Ssssss for ssssssensssousssss ssssssssssssweet ssssssseduction."

She raised her hand to her lips, forming a V with her index and middle fingers. Her tongue darted out between them.

"Ssssss for sssssssssex."

She stepped forward, her hips swaying, her eyes locked on his. The silk covering her breasts pressed against his naked chest as he hung from the wall, arms held out as though in crucifixion, steel clamps tight around his biceps and forearms. His feet did not touch the floor. He was sweating in pain. She was so close he could feel her lips brush over his.

"Ssssss for sssservant, ssssolitude, sssssorrow."

Her teeth closed on his lower lip and she bit down, pulling away as she did so. Severus tasted the metallic essence of blood even as she released him and smiled. His blood glinted on her pointed teeth. She traced her fingers along the lines of his ribs and thin tendrils of flame appeared in their wake, encircling his torso. Searing. Burning.

"Sssss for Ssssslytherin. Sssss for sssslave. Are you Sssslytherin's sssslave Ssseverusss?"

The pain was so great as Severus hung in his bonds that his mind felt as though it was going to explode. The smell of his own burning flesh assaulted his nostrils and he writhed, his feet twitching.

"Yes," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Always...faithful...to the one...master."

"He lies Nagini," came a high, thin voice that seemed to echo from all around them. The woman's smile widened. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the air. She placed her hand over Severus' heart where it jumped against his ribcage. The snake appeared in her eyes. She curled her fingers. Spots of blood appeared.

"Sssss for ssssadness," she whispered into his ear. The pain intensified as her fingers dug deeper. "Sssss," she paused, "for sssspy."

Her sharp nails tore through his flesh as her hand wrapped round his heart. And all at once Severus was floating and a different woman stood before him. Beautiful as the sun that caught in her copper hair, radiant as her smile that welcomed him at last. But then she was fading. A darkness surrounding her and he stretched out his hand but he could not grab hold of her.

"NO! LILY!"

Severus awoke with a start, the sound of his own voice echoing in his ears. He was covered in a cold sweat, his sheet twisted around his legs. The snake bite on his neck throbbed and he raised a hand to it, pressing his fingers hard against the silver scar. It was always the same. Sleep and the woman, Nagini, came hand in hand. One would not come without the other. And yet the pain was real. He would gladly rip out his own heart if it meant a moment's happiness for Lily.

Live and move on.

Severus passed a hand across his face and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up. The fire had died down and he stabbed at it with a poker, causing a few sparks it rise in protest. He added another log.

As he straightened up Severus caught sight of himself in the mirror that hung over the mantelpiece. A thin, gaunt wizard stared back at him. A man with hollow cheeks and black eyes. He took a step back. His torso scored with scars, each one telling a different tale. Each one taken as penance for Lily. Each one fighting for the life of her son. Severus raised his fist and drove it into the glass, his reflection cracking and refracting, pain blossoming from his knuckles. Another scar. Another tale.

A picture fluttered from the mirror flame, jagged on one side where the photo had been torn in half. Lily laughing at something he could not see. He stared at it for a long while, tears spilling from his eyes to run down his pale cheeks. He propped the picture on the mantelpiece and crossed to his bathroom, blood dripping from his hand.

He stood under the scalding shower for what seemed like an age, the water turning pink as it mingled with his blood. When he had finished he sat in an armchair by the fire and stared into the flames. Live and move on. But it was hard.

And then, unbidden, came a different image. One of himself seen through eyes other than his own. An image in which he was not twisted and ugly but filled with vitality. A symbol of fierce loyalty. And an idea formed. He could help someone else and maybe, just maybe, they could help him.