Sorry for causing such horror at the end of last chapter ;) I have been thinking about the story a lot lately, and have decided to morph two different stories I had in my head together, making this fic possibly somewhat (or a lot) longer than I originally intended. Originally I meant this to only be 4 chapters long and quite light-hearted, but as the other fic I wanted to write had a somewhat similar original setting, I decided to unite the two. However, that means this fic will turn quite a bit darker. But then again, it did have an M rating to begin with, so hopefully no harm will be done. Expect violence and somewhat graphic sexytimes. Thanks for reviewing!

""

The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance. The wise grows it under his feet.

James Oppenheim

""

Severus had never much believed in fate. He believed that the world was a place where people did things for no purpose at all; or if there was a purpose, it was the fight for domination and survival in this wicked world. There was no fairness to it, no great master plan or higher powers which moved people like pawns on a chess board towards an inevitable, larger-than-life goal. He had always thought those were nothing but romanticised ideas thrown about by weak and delusional people who wanted to justify their actions and failures, or who perhaps tried to manipulate others to bend to their will. There was no fate, just the things people did.

But as he stood in the Grand Hall and watched Lily Evans run her hands up James Potter's hair, watched her lips hungrily explore those of Potter's, and saw their bodies joined together in an embrace, a bizarre feeling overcame him. He felt like this moment right here was the culmination of something larger, like this moment had always been, and had always been coming, like every action and memory he had ever had were always been leading up to this place in time, where he was forced to bear witness to the coming-together of Lily and James Potter. Memories flashed in his mind in blinks of painful visions: that time when Lily and he ate ice cream on the park swings; that time when he rowed with her over Petunia; that one time she took his hand and gasped as she pulled his sleeve up to reveal bruises; and that time when they climbed into trees to see Cokeworth's skyline; and even that time when they had changed compartments in Hogwarts Express to get away from the very person she was now kissing passionately. All those separate times, and they had always been coming here, eventually, inevitably. As though the success of Potter's persistent advances towards her had forever been engraved into the background of every moment they had ever spent together.

Everything was gone, everything.

He felt no surprise, not even shock. In fact, he had a peculiar feeling like he had parted with his physical body and was now floating somewhere above and away from the entire scene in atomic particles, watching the scene unfold before him detachedly and without emotion, only pondering at how silly he had been, for even one moment having thought that he could have stolen Lily for himself, that he could have taken her away from this moment in time where she had always been coming to. In fact, he felt as though he himself had escorted her there, taken her hand and pushed her into Potter's way. The dark, obsessive and misguided cupid to their disgusting, wrong love story.

His mind a haze of peaceful, painful clarity, he walked right out of the Great Hall. The girl who had been talking to him said something in a surprised and hurt voice as he left, but he didn't register what it was. Lily and Potter were still passionately kissing as he passed by them, but he didn't even look at them. Everything felt surreal, almost ridiculous: the way that people around them kept eating their peanut buttered toast, the way the owls kept flying in and out of the hall and dropping letters on the tables, the way his own treacherous heart still continued to beat in his chest when it should have stopped, when it should have been torn to shreds and killed him on the spot.

Nothing around him had changed even though his life had been annihilated.

He didn't know how he made it back to the Slytherin Dungeons. He just suddenly found himself from his bed, where he laid and stared at the ceiling of his bed without seeing the green curtain which was covering the posters of the bed. His heart was beating as though he had been running, and his hands were shaking. He remarked that it was quite strange, because his mind was still calm, detached.

He had become used to loving Lily like a saint: in a distant, worshipping, obsessive way. Therefore he was surprised when he felt a sudden surge of rage and hate penetrating his calm mindset. And what was even more surprising, the hate was directed towards her. It took him a while to understand where the feeling was even coming from – why did he feel that way towards the saintly Lily he had coveted for so long? If anything, he had expected he would hate Potter. But he didn't care about him any more, didn't really even think about him. Potter had always been his enemy: that was nothing new. If Potter had finally managed to rip out his heart in a last, final blow, that was just the ultimate victory in a long battle between them two. But Lily… his old friend, sweet, sweet, lovely… naïve, selfish, lovable, treacherous, horrible Lily.

How could she do this to him? How dare she betray him all over again? Uninvited and painful memories of the end of their friendship overwhelmed him as he hit his closed fist down against the mattress he laid on. He had tried so hard to suppress them, for years concentrating only on what he could have done differently to deserve her friendship, had berated himself for his mistakes and thoughtless actions which had cost him her affection and approval, always thinking how right she had been to abandon him, how he had deserved what had been coming for him… but now he felt anger and bitterness, and it was all her, all because of her. And as he laid there, the small flame of anger seemed to ignite into a roaring, uncontrollable fire. How dare she betray him like this? How could she desire that man, a man who had never brought Severus anything but pain and humiliation, often in front of her very eyes? How could she touch him so intimately, mere hours after touching Severus the same way? How dared she toy with his emotions like this – to come back to him, just to push him even further away, with a knife buried in his back?

His anger, pain and love twisted and tangled all together into a tight, painful knot in his chest and throat, and he grimaced against the pillow, his body shaking violently as he buried his fists in his hair, tearing at the strands. Years and years worth of repression, oppression, regrets and buried emotions were tearing themselves out of him; some dark and horrid thing was pushing out of his very soul and into the surface. Lily's callousness and betrayal tasted like blood and copper in his mouth, and he found himself wishing she had never even been born to torment him, that he himself had never been born to be tormented by her. The deep, possessive attachment he felt towards her was something out of this world; it was never meant to be, it was an impossible, painful, grating thing, which was tearing his soul apart, and he wanted it out of himself. It was simply not meant to exist, he knew, because no one person could feel as much anguish and yet continue to live.

At that moment, if he could have torn out his heart and his soul, he would have. But instead he laid there clutching at his hair and the sheets, feeling that dark, deep thing crawling out of his soul and settle itself into his heart. He welcomed it.

When his convulsing body finally relaxed, he noticed the pillow was wet with tears he hadn't realized he had been shedding. They were still pouring, but his mind had returned to that bizarre, detached clarity which had possessed him earlier, and he lied with his eyes open and hazy with salty tears; but peacefully now. Everything felt rather like his ribs had felt under the numbing spell: shattered and wrong, but temporarily numb and thus bearable. And that thing, that beautiful dark thing, was still nestling in his heart, stopping the pain and whispering, promising to remove the exhaustion and fill the emptiness.

The saintly, other-worldly being which he had painted Lily into, and which he had craved and feared to possess with his unworthy hands and body for so long, had finally become flesh and blood in his mind. She wasn't an angel – she was a devil, which he worshipped like a sinner, but he knew now that he had to face the facts. He could no longer live in this absurd self-delusion, where he and Lily were somehow still linked and would forever continue to be so, and where he fooled himself by hoping they could perhaps grow into something more if he only bided his time and continued to worship her from afar. That was never going to happen. There were just the bittersweet memories of their childish friendship left: of her sleepy face as she appeared to the window of her bedroom when Severus stood on her yard and urged her to come out to play, of the dirty riverbank and trees which had somehow transformed into a magical forest of imagination for them two, of the cherished memories of the three hugs she had ever given him, and which he had etched into his mind and memory so that they would never leave him. And now, also that soiled memory of last night's brief bliss, which was probably nothing more than an echo of old affection and tension trying to manifest themselves through her meaningless, short-sighted and aphrodisiac-induced behavior.

But no, never again. He would leave behind his own naiveté now, his own fluttering hopes and romantic fantasies. His pain, his bitter loneliness and his inability to release himself from under her power - those things were reality. He had to accept them, and try to move on with his life for as long as his miserable heart continued to insist upon beating in his chest, denying him the relief of death.

""

Severus woke up slowly, his mind struggling to come back from the comfort the dreamless sleep had given him. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, and as he looked into his watch, he realized that he had slept around the clock, for it was a couple of minutes to nine in the evening. He had missed his afternoon classes, along with supper which had ended at nine, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't even feel hungry. And besides, he did not wish to return to the rest of the students, for he felt the quiet resolution of someone who has finally realized their place was not among the rest of their peers. He was doomed for solitude, and he wished to make it into his armor and fortress against the painful happiness of the rest of the world.

And so he laid there, contemplating how best to withdraw from the world, when the answer came to him as though once again he was unknowingly knocking on the door of his own destiny, which he didn't even believe in. Silently, he got up from the bed and walked out of the dormitory. His dorm mates had not yet returned from supper, which he was glad for.

He took the longer route, avoiding the busy secret passage between the upper floors and Slytherin Dungeons, where he'd be sure to run into his classmates who were returning from the Great Hall. The way he had chosen was empty. As he reached second floor, he made his way towards the Gargoyle corridor, and from there, even higher, until he stood next to a stone griffin.

Standing there, he realized he did not know how to get in. He had only been inside Dumbledore's office once before, at the time sitting next to James Potter and Sirius Black, all three of them glaring at the floor stubbornly and confessing as little as possible. It had been after Sirius Black had tricked him into going to the Shrieking Shack, where he had seen a glimpse of a werewolf at the end of a hallway before Potter cowardly rushed in to save the necks of himself and Black, together with his. He now wished he hadn't bothered. If Severus had died then, he would have died Lily's friend, and she would have cried and mourned him, and blamed Black and Potter for his death. But since he had survived, she had instead abandoned him, and then rewarded Potter with her love. The dark thing in his chest stretched and tightened its claws around his heart.

Last time, the password to the Headmaster's office had been "chamber music". Tentatively, he tried a few different music-related passwords, getting only an arrogant glare from the griffin statue in response. But as he finally exasperatedly tried "hard rock", the griffin suddenly jumped aside to reveal a staircase. For a brief moment he was surprised, thinking he had guessed the correct, if unlikely, password, but then he realized Albus Dumbledore was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking at him with raised eyebrows.

"Severus Snape? My, isn't this an unexpected surprise", he said peacefully.

His calmness irritated Severus. It seemed as though Dumbledore wasn't in the least bit surprised to see him - as though it was an everyday occurrence that Severus should show up to his office, when in reality he had sworn to himself never to cross the threshold again, not after Dumbledore had just shrugged off Black's murder attempt, and settled on giving him six hours of detention and sending a note to his parents, whilst rewarding Potter with 50 House points for "bravery" and "quick thinking". How very surprising that Gryffindor had once again been rewarded for recklessness and rule-breaking. Just like Potter had been rewarded for his cruelty by Lily. Yes, fairness was a concept Severus had indeed stopped believing in long ago.

"I needed a word, Headmaster", Severus mumbled, trying to keep his voice as chill-free as he could. He needed the Headmaster, and it would not do to upset him.

"Of course", Dumbledore said without further inquiry and made way for Severus. "Please follow me."

He led way to his office, where Severus immediately settled on the same chair he had sat on all those years ago. The Headmaster walked to the opposite side of his large desk and sat down, interlacing his fingers in front of him on the desk and fixing his intense gaze upon Severus with a level of attention that seemed as though his unexpected appearance was something Dumbledore had been expecting all day.

"How may I help you?" he inquired politely.

Severus bit his lip, wondering how best to approach the subject, nudging at the dark thing inside him to help him. The Headmaster continued to look at him attentively, but did not hurry him. Finally Severus sighed and purposefully slumped against his chair as though relaxing, although he felt no such emotion. But now, if ever, it was imperative to keep up appearances.

"I have a request to make", he said and was surprised how well he managed to keep his voice in check. It sounded confident and indifferent, even to his own ears. "I wish to stop attending classes."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised.

"Stop attending classes?" He repeated slowly. "I must confess my surprise, Severus. I am under the impression that you have done exceedingly well in your studies throughout your time here in Hogwarts. And with only a few more months of school left, this request is indeed unexpected."

Severus didn't blink or turn his gaze away. "I have done well in my studies", he admitted. "I have top marks in every subject. Along with nine Outstanding O.W.L. grades. My request is not born out of wishing to renounce my education."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and eyed him curiously over his half-moon spectacles. "Then you must forgive my confusion and explain yourself. I must say you have managed to rouse my curiosity."

Severus nodded, feeling as though so far things were going rather well, even despite the unnerving gray gaze which seemed to be scanning his insides from across the desk.

"I requested to stop attending classes. However, I still do wish to continue my education", he said, his heart beating wildly in his chest. "I am sorry to say that all throughout Spring, the classes have had little to offer me in terms of new information or skills. Most classes put emphasis on revision for the upcoming N.E.W.T.'s, advancing on the terms of the, ah, less skilled students. I have often found myself idle and thinking I would benefit more from independent studies rather than from sitting on classes where I learn nothing. Independent studying would allow me to perfect my skills to the standard which I myself aspire to present at the examination. I am aware that this request is exceptional, and thus thought that I better approach you directly, Headmaster."

Dumbledore pressed the tips of his index fingers against each other and looked at him for a long time without saying a word. Severus felt rather uncomfortable. He had purposefully used his most boastful, self-confident voice, but as Dumbledore kept gazing at him, he couldn't help but wonder if he had gone too far after all. But then again, everything he said had been true: he had indeed been bored out of his mind on most classes all throughout the Spring term, ever since he had realized that the teachers clearly didn't intend to teach them anything new, but were now instead solely prepping them up for the exams by reviewing their entire seven year education in a nutshell. Of course, his true motivation for wishing to quit classes nevertheless had nothing to do with the curriculum, but rather with the wish to, no, need to avoid Lily and Potter. So he tried very hard to keep his face neutral and earnest as he boldly gazed the Headmaster in the eyes, and willed him to say yes.

"This is indeed an unusual request", Dumbledore finally said. "But not exceptional. There always are some students whose skills exceed those of their peers. Occasionally so greatly, that special arrangements are made. However -"

Severus felt defeated, fearing the "no" he was certain the Headmaster was about to give him. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he came out of this office disappointed, he thought bitterly, reminiscing on his contemptuous feelings towards the Headmaster when he had last left the office, being trailed by Potter and Black who seemed overjoyed and not in the least bit surprised that they had gotten off with nothing but a slap on the wrist and increased House Points.

"- However, I am hesitant to give you an immediate answer. I promise to consider your request with utmost care over this weekend. But I would prefer to talk the matter over with your Head of House before making a decision one way or another. Hopefully you will find my answer suitable, for the time being."

Severus nodded, relieved to not receive a direct rejection.

"I will let you know when I have made my decision", Dumbledore said with finality.

"Thank you, Headmaster", Severus said. Dumbledore was still watching Severus attentively, and for the first time ever, Severus felt as though the man was gazing at him with something resembling respect or understanding. Or at the very least, with something that didn't make Severus feel like a 12-year-old. He looked into Dumbledore's eyes with defiance, hoping that he would read it as an expression of determination instead.

"Is there something else you wish to speak of?" Dumbledore asked him gently, his eyes greyer than ever behind his spectacles.

"No, sir", Severus said and got up. "Thank you. I will remain waiting for your answer. Good night."

After nodding at the Headmaster, Severus left the office, leaving Dumbledore to sit behind his desk. He could feel the man's eyes in his back as he walked out. After finishing his conversation with Dumbledore, he again felt like he was waging war on his emotions, trying to stomp them to the ground so that he wouldn't have to endure another bout of such heart-ripping agony as he had before. He was good at repressing things. He realised that the key was to keep himself busy; to have goals, and to bury his emotions under it all. So he started to plan his private study schedule, should Dumbledore grant him the privilege. And then he moved on to wondering how to avoid her and him if he should not be granted permission to skip the classes; the best way to do it would most likely be to pretend they didn't even exist. Not in the same way as before, where he had secretly been staring and drooling over her any time he could; but rather to actually try and forget their physical presence.

Then he moved on to planning further: he thought of how to best hone his skills in order to be noticed by certain someones, who were most definitely keeping their eye on the Ministry and, according to rumours, recruiting new members as the results of promising N.E.W.T. results. His mouth turned into a grimace as the idea of being recruited mixed in with fantasies of appearing behind his front door, wearing a mask and a cloak, holding his wand… he imagined how his hazel eyes would widen as he took off the mask, when he realized who and what he was dealing with… he would take his revenge, and it would be glorious...

Mulling his thoughts over, concentrating on plans of practicing wandless magic and dark spells, Severus returned to the dormitory where his dorm mates had arrived during his absence.

"Care to explain what came over you this morning?" Morland asked him sullenly as he appeared to the dormitory. "And why weren't you at Dark Arts? Or Herbology, for that matter?"

"I had a long night. I fell asleep after breakfast", Severus said curtly, his voice darker than usual. He didn't much appreciate Morland's way of talking to him, but he was rather influential and well-connected, and getting on his bad side would be tactless and ill-advised, especially now.

Morland humphed.

"Very well. I assumed as much, when you didn't come to the dormitory last night. So, who is she?"

Severus stared at him and frowned, trying very hard to understand what he meant. His brain seemed to be oddly slow today, concentrated only on his dark plans. The only she he could think of was her, and Morland certainly wouldn't be asking him about that.

"The girl you were out with?" Morland prompted him, changing into his pajamas.

"Oh", Severus realized, starting to undress and hiding his face. Of course Morland and the rest had assumed he had been out with a girl. Her face and tender eyes blinked in his mind before the dark thing in his heart ripped the memory out of his mind and stomped it somewhere deep and inaccessible. "I can't even remember her name anymore."

""

Monday morning, after a weekend of very early breakfasts and late lunches and dinners, the purpose of which had been for Severus to avoid the two people he now wished he would never in his life lay his eyes on again (at least not before he could appear behind his door with his wand), he sat at the Slytherin table and lamented over the fact that he had not yet heard from Dumbledore. That might mean he would be forced to attend today's Potions class. And that meant... but no, he would not go there. He immediately banished the emotions threatening to resurface, crushing them to the ground before they rose to the surface. He would never again let himself feel that way.

A large grey owl suddenly swooshed over his head and dropped a heavy letter on the table next to his plate of bacon. For a moment he just stared at the letter, at his own name which was written in an elegant, unknown hand-writing, and then grabbed it and tore open the envelope quickly. His fingers were trembling slightly as he smoothed the parchment under his hand.

Dear Severus,

Returning to the subject of our Friday's conversation, I have discussed your circumstances with Professor Slughorn, who he has given me his highest recommendations regarding your abilities and self-discipline. He agrees with your notion that the content of the current curriculum might not be in accordance with your skills. Thus, I am pleased to inform you that I have decided to agree to your request and grant you the privilege of studying independently for the rest of the term.

However, I have not made this decision lightly, and would like to implore you to attend classes should you feel you require the help of a teacher at any point in your studies. I have also arranged with Professor Slughorn to take an hour off his busy schedule each week to check upon your progress, during which I expect you to be able to provide him with satisfactory proof of development in your independent studies. Please see him for additional details.

I wish you the best of luck with your N.E.W.T.'s studies, and look forwards to seeing the results of your examinations.

With kind regards,

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster of Hogwarts

Severus's lips curled as he re-read the letter. No Potions, no classes... he could concentrate on improving himself without distraction now. His heart beat quickly in his chest as he felt that a whole new door had opened up for him: a new goal, a new future, now filled with something else entirely than the deep green of her eyes – he repressed that brief blink of a memory again. Just like he would do, again and again and again, until he would forget. Plans of the Library, Forbidden books, hidden practice places flashed in his mind. So little time, so many spells to create.

The dark thing shivered in his chest in anticipation.