Cauldrons Aflame

by J.S. Howard

Well, it's a seductive romance involving our favorite Potions master. Do you really want to waste your time reading the summary! SSOC(Female) Please RR

34. Mysteries Revealed

Chapter: 34

Be warned: This chapter contains extreme violence, language,thoughts ofsuicideand various other adult themes not suitable for children, or the weak at heart. If you find any of these subjects offensive, please do not continue reading...

Mysteries Revealed (Part 2)

Claira felt her body spiral into the darkness. She was inside the pensieve, on a cold, weightless journey to Severus's memories. When the light touched her eyes, she found herself standing in the corner of a large, spacious study. Movement beneath her feet drew her attention to a small, crouching figure - it was the same one she had seen from the surface of the basin. The massive object that it hid behind was an evergreen-colored armchair. She knelt down and discovered the figure to be a tiny boy, no older than the age of five. Long, stringy black hair curtained his pale face and the tattered clothes he wore, which were once of good quality, hung loose off his bony body. He looked undernourished and just as neglected as his garments.

Claira leaned closer to see what he was doing, as his attention was fixed on his shoes. Peering over his shoulder, she saw that he had wooden statues in his hands. One was a knight, holding a chipped sword and a shield that had lost its paint centuries ago. The other was a horse with a missing hoof; both looked as if they had been burnt at one point in time. They did not move on their own, like most wizard toys, and Claira suspected that Severus might have stolen them from a Muggle's dustbin.

She watched as he made them dance in circles, like two merry mates on a grand adventure.

"Come horse! We must save the girl from that bloody dwagon!" he murmured.

Claira giggled and crawled on all fours to sit beside him. His face was hidden from view, but she could hear his animated whispers. It was normal play for a child, which made her wonder why he was hidden and only speaking in undertones. Then she heard it; an explosive noise that made her body jolt.

BANG!

Someone - or something - had made a violent entrance into the room. Severus shrank into the shadows, holding his horse and knight against his chest as if they might get taken away. Claira, panicked by the intrusion, darted her eyes about the study for a place to hide. Just as she was about to move, another set of footsteps thundered inside. Then she heard a sound that made her cringe.

SMACK!

A woman yelped in pain.

"THOUGHT YOU COULD HIDE FROM ME, DID YOU?"

SMACK!

SMACK!

The same woman cried out in agony, "Enough! Leave it be!"

"I am not done with you, wench," came an angry, male voice. "How dare you make such accusations against my good name? That girl - that woman, was niece to Bartemius Crouch, the bloody head of the Ministry's International Co-operation Department! I did him a favor to show his niece around London for the weekend - "

"Since when does 'showing his niece around London' involve a room at the Gore Hotel?" She stood tall, despite her quivering voice.

Claira gathered up the courage to peek around the edge of the armchair. What she saw made her gasp - it was Severus! No, the small boy was Severus - that was his father. Gods, they were almost identical in appearance, with the same piercing, dark eyes, strong chin and aristocratic nose. The man had, what Claira could only assume was Severus's mother's arm, in a tight hold and he was shaking her.

"Who told you? Who told you that nonsense?" His lip twitched and his greasy, black hair thrashed about his face in fury. "Answer me!"

"What difference does it make? She is not the first. Don't look so surprised - I know about the others." She writhed her arm out of his grasp and turned towards the fireplace, blood oozing from her right nostril. "I knew it the moment you choked out your vows at our wedding that you preferred whores to a wife. I knew then of your appetite for lies. Your eyes were filthy with sin."

"But that did not stop you from bearing my unholy child, did it? Do drop your veil of innocence, my dear." His mouth twisted into a sneer. "You married my name - you whored yourself out for riches and power, and with it the respect that would come when you bore an heir."

She whirled around, her eyes cloaked in loathing. "I did what was asked of me, what a bought wife is intended to do. I gave birth to that damnable son of yours, that poor excuse for a pureblood seed! And to what am I indebted? An empty manor house and an adulterous husband who doesn't know how to keep his todger in his trousers!"

SMACK!

The woman fell to her knees and wept into her hands.

"I would sooner drown that wretch of a son than offer you a wink of gratitude. He is an embarrassment to both the Snape surname and myself. Ne'er a day goes by that I look upon him, and am I not reminded of the foul bitch from which he was breed." He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it at her. "Get up! Clean your face. You disgust me."

The woman's eyes burned with fury and humiliation. She cast them upon him and waited until his back was turned, before drawing her wand from a hidden slit in her dress. She pointed it at him, but her reflection in the mirror, which hung on the wall beside the double doors, gave away her intentions. In a flash, the dark-robed man, with wand in hand, wheeled around and shouted:

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

The woman was disarmed, and knelt trembling in his wake. He did not speak, but his eyes exploded with a murderous rage. Slipping his wand back into his pocket, he grabbed her by the back of her hair and dragged her out of the study. She went shrieking, and clawed at his legs like a defiant feline unwilling to yield.

Claira did not see where they had gone, nor did she want to know. Severus's father was a monster. His mother was no better for the way she spoke of Severus, as if he were an unwanted burden. They both treated him as an object of hatred, a weapon with which to wound the other. It was obvious that they were not in love. Glancing down at the tiny boy, Claira saw that he had his statues at play again, only this time the knight was stabbing his horse in the belly and he was muttering angry words at them.

As if he had sensed her presence in the room, Severus snapped his head up and stared straight through her. It was the first time she had seen his face since the memory began, and what she saw made her shudder. His eyes resembled two black stones, and he had a large, swollen welt that extended from his temple to his jaw. It looked like a fresh wound. Claira clapped her hand over her mouth and shut her eyes.

When she opened them, she was swallowed by the spinning darkness.

There was a second flash of light, which placed Claira at the end of a long corridor lit by candles. She heard muffled moans and grunts coming from the room to her right. When she turned to investigate, she saw Severus standing in the doorway, peering inside. He was older now, possibly nine years of age. His hair was longer, but his body was just as gaunt and unhealthy as before. Did the boy not eat?

Standing behind him, Claira peeped over his head and saw two nude figures entangled on a massive canopy bed. The woman on top had long, flowing black hair and a slender frame. She looked familiar. It was the woman from the previous memory - it was Severus's mother. The man beneath her, however, was not her husband. This man had sandy blonde hair that fanned over the full length of the pillow. It was an eerie sight, with the curtains billowing around them from the breeze of the opened window and the shadows of their moving bodies dancing upon the walls with the crackling firelight, like two thieving ghosts in the night.

The woman threw her head back and screamed in ecstasy, while the man groaned and thrust his hips upwards and into her with rapid strokes. Severus tried to retreat in silence, but the floorboard creaked beneath his shoes. His mother's bleak, lifeless eyes darted at the door, and she stared down at her son with a shameless expression on her face.

Claira felt a shiver run up her spine when she saw the corners of the woman's thin mouth curl into a cold, wicked smile.

The light faded.

Claira spiraled into the black abyss, confused by what she had seen. It wasn't until she entered the next memory that she began to understand the smugness behind his mother's grin. The pensieve placed her inside the exact corridor she had just left, only this time the bedroom door was closed and the one across the hall from it was cracked open. Severus sat on the floor in front of it, hugging his legs and rocking his body back and forth. He looked to be the same age as before, maybe a year older. He was staring through the open crevice, eyes fixed on the events inside.

Leaning forward, Claira stood over him and peered into the room. She saw his mother, reclined in a rocking chair with a small bundle of blankets hugged to her breast. She was humming a soft lullaby and smiling down at the newborn baby in her arms. This smile was warm and nurturing, and her eyes were lit with pride. Through a small fold in the blanket, Claira saw a sprout of sandy blonde hair. It was the same hair as that of the man from the previous memory - the man with whom Severus's mother had committed adultery.

The baby began to whimper, and the woman's eyes flashed at the door. Severus had made no noise, but it was obvious that his mother had blamed him for waking the child. She stood with the baby cradled in her arms and swayed with tender movements to the door. When she reached it, she scowled down at the tiny boy, who was now a miniature replica of his father, and snapped the door shut in his face.

Severus continued to stare at the door, his frail body rocking to the rhythm of his mother's soothing hums. He was alone in the shadows, forsaken by his parent's hatred for each other, and unloved by the small world around him.

Claira fought back the tears and reached out for the little boy, but he slipped away into the darkness.

The Pensieve did not allow her time to cry; faster than she could blink, it had thrown her into the light of his next memory. Claira now stood in Severus's private laboratory - only it was different than the way she remembered. It was the same cold chamber, but nothing was in its proper place, nor did she recognize any of his belongings.

Her eyes swept over the room in bewilderment until she spotted a figure hunched over one of the tables.

Severus was now in his third year of study. He was tall for his age but his school robes, like his previous garments, hung limp off his scrawny shoulders and slim frame. His nose had grown larger though. Moving closer, she saw flashes of light and heard his soft murmurs of enchantment. A pretty red bow caught her eye. She was astonished to discover he was transforming clumps of chocolate into miniature heart-shaped treats. The empty cauldron to his left, with brown goop around its rim, was an indication that he had made the chocolates himself.

Claira watched as he packed them inside a white gift box and tied it with a matching red ribbon. It took him a few attempts to center the bow but at last he managed it, just as the school bell chimed. Folding a tiny piece of parchment in half, he scribbled:

For my dearest Lily

From,
Your Secret Admirer

"Hmm, bit trite, don't you think? Why not sign your name instead?" came a gruff voice from behind him.

Claira whirled around to see Professor Falcor standing there with his arms crossed and a wide, knowing grin on his face.

Severus seemed unperturbed by his presence. "And be disowned by my House? Made a mockery of by the entire school? I think not."

"There is no shame in courting a pretty girl, Severus."

"There is when that pretty girl happens to be a Gryffindor and I am a Slytherin," Severus corrected.

"Is that so? Then perhaps it is time to break a few of the old Hogwarts traditions and replace them with new ones. It is Valentine's Day. Severus, present the chocolates to her yourself. The others will be envious of your courage." His lips curved into a smirk. "You might even get a kiss in return for your valor."

Severus snorted. "That, I doubt."

He attached the note and slipped the box into his robe pocket.

"Very well, have it your way," the Professor enounced. "But don't be surprised if the outcome is not what you had wanted."

After whisking his cauldron to the sink, Severus tucked his books under his arm and moved towards the door. "I'll take my chances."

Claira followed him out of the laboratory and down several winding tunnels. When they reached the dungeon classroom, Severus paused to peer inside. There were a few other students already seated and involved in private conversations. Satisfied that their attentions were occupied for the moment, he entered the room like a wisp of smoke, careful not to disturb the calm.

Claira watched as he brushed his hip up against a nearby table, while at the same time lifting the box of chocolates out of his pocket. He placed it on the adjoining stool, and then fled the classroom.

Outside, he stood with his back to the wall, an air of calm falling over his flushed face. He watched as the other students straddled in, casting them all a look of indifference, save one girl. She had long, fiery hair, big green eyes and a petite body that moved through the crowd with ease. His posture stiffened as she passed and his eager eyes followed her to the very stool he had placed the chocolates on.

It took her a moment to discover them but, when she did, her cheeks pinked and she smiled. She then opened the box and, after a quick examination for possible pranks, popped a chocolate heart into her mouth. Her eyes closed at its sweet taste. A group of friends soon gathered around her, whispering and giggling in speculation as to who had given her the gift.

After a moment or two, a boy with untidy black hair and dark-rimmed glasses pushed his way through the small crowd.

"What's all the chatter about?" he asked.

The girl, whom Claira could only assume was Lily, looked up at him and grinned. "Oh, I think you know."

She devoured another chocolate heart and blushed. "Thank you, James. They really are delicious."

His eyes fell to the box in her hands. "Huh?"

"These chocolates... you did give them to me, didn't you?" Her long lashes rose to reveal the sudden uncertainty in her emerald eyes.

His ears reddened at her question. His gaze moved from the chocolates to her face, then to the small crowd of expectant onlookers and back again to her face. "Yes - yes, of course! Made 'em myself. Do you like them?"

He cast a side-glance at the group of ogling girls. No one exposed his lie.

"I do, very much. Thank you!" She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek.

Claira clamped her hand over her mouth and darted her eyes at Severus. He stood in the doorway with his shoulders slumped forward and eyes glued to the girl who had just given her kiss to the wrong admirer. But soon his face twisted into anger, and his chest inflated to twice its size. One hand balled into a white-knuckle fist at his side, while the other reached for the wand in his pocket. In a flash, he had it out and pointed at the boy.

Just as he was about to hurl a hex, another dark-haired boy appeared.

"Expelliarmus!"

The wand flew out of Severus's hand, bounced off the archway and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. The boy then grabbed the front of Severus's robes and slammed his feeble body against the wall.

Claira knew those gray, roguish eyes; she would recognize them anywhere. It was Sirius Black!

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, Snivellus."

Severus struggled to free himself but the other boy was stronger, taller and more physically developed. Nevertheless, he thrashed his arms out and wiggled his body, until his robes tore down the center.

Sirius's eyes dropped to a deep, tumid cut on Severus's collarbone. "What happened, Snivellus? Fall off your broom again?"

There was laughter as a crowd of students gathered around them.

"No! Let go of me! Just wait until I have my wand," Severus spat.

Lily and James approached from behind. Sirius glanced back at his friend and grinned. "You know what I think, James? I think Snivellus here gave Lily those chocolates."

A look of horror passed over Severus's pallid face.

James shrugged his shoulders and threw a haughty smirk at Lily.

Lily's mouth fell open as she stared to and fro between the boys.

"Is that true, Severus?" she asked in a soft, compassionate tone.

Severus eyed the crowd. He then looked at Lily and barred his teeth. "Don't insult me, Mudblood. I wouldn't waste my time on filth."

Sirius twisted Severus's robes tighter around his fist and gave him another hard shove against the wall. "Liar! I've seen the way you stare at her when she walks by. Why, I'd even say your legs turn to jelly at the sight of her."

A wicked smirk crossed his lips, as he lowered his wand to Severus's legs. "Lentesco Membrum!"

It was the jelly-legs jinx. Severus's limbs began to wobble and jiggle out of control. Sirius released him and he fell to his knees on the stone floor.

The crowd exploded with laughter; even his fellow Slytherins chimed in. It was obvious that he was not well liked. It made Claira wonder if he had any friends at all.

While Sirius was crowing, Severus crawled on his hands and elbows to his wand. Once it was in his hand, he sat up and pointed it at Black. His brow creased in fury and his pupils dilated to reveal the black devilry in his eyes.

"Furor Exanimis!"

A gray wisp of smoke rose from the tip of his wand and took the shape of a grisly hand, with long, crooked fingers and sharp fingernails. It flew like a phantom at Sirius and plunged straight into his open mouth. Then, it vanished.

The tunnel fell silent, pure terror struck across the faces of those who watched Sirius drop to his knees and clutch at his throat. He could not breathe; the hand had stolen the air from his lungs. His face began to turn purple and he clawed at his neck in desperation.

Just then, a flash of white light hit his chest. He croaked like a frog before inhaling and exhaling large breaths of air. Out of nowhere, a strong hand, made of flesh and bone, grabbed his arm and helped him to stand.

"What the devil is going on here?" Professor Falcor barked, throwing a counter curse at Severus's legs. "I want answers, now!"

The other students stared and pointed at Severus, while Lily explained the events that had transpired. Severus leapt to his feet and scowled at his accusers. They backed away from him as if he were plagued with a disease.

When she finished, the Professor cast his eyes at Severus and frowned. "I see... All of you, inside the classroom, this instant."

He tugged the back of Severus's robes as he made to enter through the door. "Not you! Potter, escort Mr. Black to the infirmary. Miss Evans, please mind the class while I speak with Mr. Snape."

"Yes, sir." They all spoke in unison.

After the others departed, Professor Falcor turned to Severus and surveyed him with a grimace. "Where did you learn that curse?"

Severus stared at the floor. "I don't know."

"Try again."

"A book."

The Professor's eyes narrowed. "And where did you find this book?"

"The library."

"I am not in the mood for games, Severus."

Severus lifted his gaze and then quickly lowered it again. "My father's study."

"What did I tell you about fiddling with Dark Magic? It is not only dangerous to the well-being of others but it is also dangerous to you, as it will affect the sanity of your own mind." He looked grave. "You almost killed someone today."

"It was self-defense."

"Was it? Do not mistake humiliation for a life-threatening experience. The only thing in danger here was your pride. So, another student bested you? Big deal. There will be many others, I assure you."

Severus scowled and glared at his shoes.

"You do realize I shall have to punish you?" His tone softened to one of regret.

Severus nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I will speak with the Headmaster and attempt to dissuade him from expelling you. This is the last time, Severus. Do you understand me? I can sympathize with your anger and frustration, but I will not tolerate the use of Dark Magic on another student." He placed his hand on Severus's shoulder. "That being said, I think you should change into another set of robes before returning to class."

As Severus turned to walk away, the Professor's palm slid off his shoulder and the split in his robes parted to reveal the large cut on his collarbone. Narrowing his eyes, Professor Falcor grabbed Severus's arm and held him back.

He peeled the remainder of the fabric aside to examine the wound. "What happened here?"

Severus shrugged out of his grip. "I fell off my broom - its nothing."

"Do not presume to think me ignorant of such matters, Severus. I know from my own experience and studies that this cut was caused by a cleaver hex... did you happen to find that in your father's study as well?"

Severus froze, his eyes widening at the insinuation. "I said it is nothing."

Professor Falcor tried to approach him but Severus backed away. "Severus, please. I cannot help you unless you tell me the truth."

"I told you the truth," he stammered. "I fell off my broom during the holidays - there is nothing else to tell. Leave me alone."

He stumbled backwards into the wall. Then, ducking under the Professor's arm, he fled down the tunnel.

Claira chased after him.

He was light and fast on his feet; a skill no doubt adopted from years of running and hiding from the wrath of his father. As he rounded the third corner, another boy emerged from the shadows and swooped in front of him. Severus faltered in his steps and tumbled to the floor. The older boy, possibly in his seventh year, stared down at him and grinned.

"Snape, is it? I saw what you did earlier. Quite impressive. Tell me, wherever did you learn that quaint little charm?"

He offered him a hand to stand, but Severus ignored it and clamored to his feet. "None of your business, Wilkes."

"None of my business, you say? I'd mind that attitude, if I were you. It would seem you have gotten yourself into enough trouble for one morning."

Severus sneered at him, despite the boy's rank as a Slytherin prefect. "What's one more detention if a severing hex to your prick will get you out of my face?"

Claira buried her face in her hands and shook her head.

"You were warned." Before Severus could grab his wand, the boy wrapped his hand around Severus neck and lifted him up off the ground. His arm was glowing bright red with wandless magic; it was a miraculous feat for one of his age.

After a moment, the boy released him to the floor and chuckled. Severus massaged his throat and stared up at him, not in anger, but in awe.

"Remarkable, don't you think? There is no limit to the power you can possess with the right tuition... I can see you are curious. Lucky for you, Snape, I happen to like you. I have seen your potential, and I think the Dark Lord would be pleased with your unique talents. He is currently recruiting young wizards and witches alike, to train for the revolution. If you are tired of learning these useless parlor tricks, then meet me at the front gates at midnight - "

Approaching footsteps disrupted his speech. He glanced around.

"Come alone," he added, before adjusting his badge and whisking off down the tunnel.

Severus plucked himself up off the floor and walked in the opposite direction of the footsteps. Along the way to his dormitory, he stared down at his arm and flexed his fingers. Claira could see the hunger in his eyes; she could almost feel the yearning for power in his heart.

She stopped following him as he faded away into the spinning darkness. Claira did not need to question if he had went to the gates that night... she already knew that he had.

The pensieve did not grant her enough time to sort out her thoughts; it spat her straight into the pit of his next memory.

Claira stood in the kitchen of a grand manor house. Before, in the dark hallway and dim study, she could only guess the size of Severus's childhood home, if one indeed could use the term 'home' to describe a building of such enormous proportions. Now she saw just how sumptuous a house it was. Gold and silver trimmings decorated most pieces of furniture and gave hint to the extent of his parent's wealth. Marble floors, mahogany cabinets, and crystal dishes - all these items had been chosen, no doubt, to flaunt their wealth. If only they could have lavished the same care and money on Severus's garments and playthings.

Adjoining the kitchen was a large breakfast room. In it, at a circular table, sat a sixteen-year-old Severus, his father and a small, blonde hair boy about five years of age. The boy looked awkward amongst a family of dark-eyed brunettes. Claira noticed his father scrutinize him from over that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet.

Severus's mother stood near a window and sipped on her tea, while watching the sun rise above the marsh.

To an unwitting eye, the family looked normal, happy and balanced.

Aside from the scraping of forks and occasional rustle of the newspaper, the room was quiet. That is, until the small boy reached for the pitcher of milk and tipped it over by mistake.

SPLASH!

The milk poured out onto the table, over the plates and into his father's lap.

The man leapt to his feet, knocking the chair backwards as he stood. "Bloody hell!"

He shoved his fist into his pocket and snatched out his wand, and performed a cleaning spell on his robes. After he was finished, he placed his palms on the dry edges of the table and leaned forward. He spoke in a low, dangerous tone.

"Which one of you did this? Speak up! It was you, wasn't it?" He leered at the small, blonde hair boy.

The boy was too terrified to answer the question. He looked to his mother with pleading eyes. She stood in the corner with her hands over her mouth, but did not dare interfere with his punishment. His tiny body trembled in the man's cold, dark shadow.

Severus's face whitened as he watched his father's large, rigid hand reach out for his brother. His stony eyes locked onto the small boy's tear-filled eyes and they shared a moment of mutual fear, and understanding.

As his father's fingers entwined and tightened around his brother's robe, Severus rose from his chair. He stood tall, despite his quivering limbs, and announced, "No, father. I did it. I spilt the pitcher."

The father slowly turned his murderous eyes on Severus. He stared at him in gut-wrenching silence, as if contemplating the truth of his words. Then, like a crack of lightning, he released the small boy and swung his arm around with a force that defied reasoning. The back of his hand made fierce contact with Severus's face, and Severus toppled over his chair onto the floor.

His mother took that opportunity to pull the small boy away from the table and into the comfort of her arms. She hugged him close to her breasts, but her eyes remained devoid of feeling as she stared down at her other son.

Hunched over, Severus touched his fingers to his swollen cheek. He winced in pain.

Stuffing his hand into his robes, the loathsome man snatched out a handkerchief and wiped the saliva off his skin. "Clean this mess up."

It took Severus a moment to recover from the blow before pulling himself up to stand. He grabbed a cloth from the table, as he was not allowed to use magic out of school, and began to wipe up the milk.

His father slapped it out of his hand.

There was no emotion in his voice, no sign of feeling in his steel eyes when he told Severus, "Not with a cloth - with your tongue. That will teach you to give me a prompt answer when I speak to you. Now, clean it."

Severus's face burned with humiliation. His chest began to rise and fall in heavy, angry breaths as he stared down at the large puddle of milk on the floor. He was a boy on the verge of manhood, torn between a sense of obedience and self-respect. There comes a time in every young boy's life when he must choose to be his own man, decide who he is and follow his own path.

His eyes brimmed with defiance. "No."

"What did you say?" his father growled. "What did you say to me, boy?"

Claira could almost hear Severus's bones rattle, but he held his stance. "I said, no. I won't do it."

"How dare you talk back to me?" He grabbed Severus by the back of his hair and shoved him down to the floor, forcing his nose within inches from the pool of milk. "Clean it!"

Severus's eyes blazed with fury and, in that moment, he claimed manhood.

Drawing his knee up, he pushed himself up off the floor with his leg and whirled around to punch his father in the mouth with all his might.

His father stumbled backwards and landed with his back on the table, his robes besmirched with food.

Severus, for the first time since the memories began, smiled.

It did not last long.

His father was on his feet and on top of Severus before he could react.

Claira backed away into a corner and covered her eyes with her trembling hands, too frightened to watch. But she heard the violent shuffling of bodies and the cracking sound of fists connecting with flesh, and bone, and the yells of anger, and the cries of agony.

Then it stopped.

Claira opened her eyes and saw Severus down on his hands and knees above the puddle of milk, his eyelids nearly swollen shut and blood seeping from his broken nose. His father had his wand out and pointed at the back of Severus's head. Its tip glowed a bright, deadly green.

"I have lost my patience with you, boy!" the man said, in a hoarse voice. "I shall not tell you again! Clean up this bloody mess! If you refuse me again, I shall not hesitate to throw your bloody carcass out into the swamp, for the grindylows to feast upon."

Severus, struggling to catch his breath, bowed his head in defeat. He was no match for his father. Scrunching his face up in disgust, he lowered his face to the floor and flicked his tongue out at the milk.

Although his eyes threatened to cry, he did not allow a single tear to escape from his dark lashes.

Claira curled into a ball, buried her hands in her hair and sobbed against her knees. She did not know how much more she could endure of this.

She continued to weep as the cold, relentless darkness lifted her body and spiraled her towards his next memory.

When her feet touched ground, Claira wiped the watery blur from her eyes and peered around a dark, dusty tower. She knew this place. It was the vacant tower Severus used when he wanted to escape his troubles. She glanced at the window and saw his youthful form climbing out onto the stone platform.

She followed and stood beside him beneath the twinkling stars. He had not aged more than a year, but his frigid eyes showed a grown man trapped inside a boy's body. His shoulders were broad but thin and his chest showed a hint of muscle beneath his robes; however, his lean profile made him look more skeletal than fit.

He stared over the lake and past the mountains, the wind winnowing his hair so that it cloaked his sallow cheeks. In a slow, timid manner, he stepped up onto the ledge. Leaning forward, he lowered his eyes to the ground, to the solid, snowy earth. His robes ruffled in the breeze and his body began to sway, as if he were toying with the idea of flying... or maybe falling.

The stony expression on his face was difficult to read.

Claira backed away, frightened he might decide to jump and, by doing so, drag her down with him; that was one memory she did not care to ever experience. She had always been afraid to fly. It was not so much the fear of flying but, rather, the fear of plummeting to her death that kept her off a broom.

After several minutes of heavy breathing and rocking back and forth, Severus let out a troublesome groan, and climbed down from the ledge.

"Aw, what a shame," said a male voice, dripping with malice. "You would have done the world a favor."

Claira whirled around to see a gang of four boys standing only a few feet away. Sirius had his wand in his hand, poised for an attack. Beside him, James also had his wand out and pointed at Severus's back. A seventeen-year-old Remus stood near the window with a look of uncertainty on his face, his shiny prefect badge reflecting the ghostly light of the half moon. The fourth boy was unfamiliar. He was short and plump, and he was rubbing his hands together like a rat leering at a sliver of cheese. His eyes were on James and Sirius.

Severus did not turn around. The expression on his face told Claira that he knew the voice and what trouble it brought. His hand plunged into his pocket. But it was too late. Sirius had cast a floating charm on his body and suspended him sideways over the ledge.

James smirked. "Lily hates you, you know. She thinks you're an ugly git. She told me so last night, just after we left the Astronomy Tower. God, she is really hot, that one. But it was colder than Merlin's balls up there without our robes. Come to think of it, she never did find her knickers... must've lost them somewhere between the wall of star charts and the floor. Girls can be so neglectful when they're randy. But you wouldn't know anything about that would you, Snivellus? I bet you never even seen a tit, except your mother's!"

Sirius and James shared a laugh. The plump boy looked about in panic, as if he had never seen one either. Remus, on the other hand, frowned at James's confession of sex with Lily. He shook his head and muttered something against the wind.

Severus put up a violent struggle, spitting swearwords and threats at the boys. His fingers thrust into the fold of his robes for his wand, but the fact that he was hanging at a slant caused the wand to slip out of his pocket and spiral towards the thick blanket of snow below. His eyes widened in terror as he stared down at the grounds.

"The truth is, Snivellus, everyone hates you," Sirius spat. "So, why don't you just put us all out of our misery and snuff it."

He flicked his wand and made Severus's body tilt upside down. Then he spun him around in circles until Severus cried out for him to stop. His face had turned a deep purple and his eyes were glossed over from dizziness.

Remus cleared his throat and stepped forward. "I think that is enough, Sirius. You've made your point. Now, put him down before we get caught."

"Put him down, you say? Well, all right." Sirius flashed a wicked smile and lowered his wand.

Severus's body flipped over once more before it dropped out of view.

James gasped and grabbed Sirius's arm. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry. I've got him." He leaned over the ledge and cast another floating charm. "You see? I was just giving Snivellus a little flying lesson... and something to consider in future."

James shivered. "Well, just - just put him down, all right?"

Sirius shrugged his shoulders and lifted Severus back up, and over the ledge. He then removed the charm so that Severus fell onto the stone platform with a heavy thud. "There, happy?"

Severus scrambled to his feet, trembling. "You'll... you'll pay for that, Black."

Sirius snorted. "You are nothing without your wand, Snivellus... Come on, mates, let's go nick a bottle of Firewhisky from the kitchen before Filch makes his rounds."

The others did not reply; they were too busy staring at the tall, dark silhouette that stood in the window.

"Would any of you care to explain why you are all out after hours, and also in a restricted section of the castle?" growled Professor Falcor.

Sirius tucked his wand behind his back. "Professor, sir. We were just... that is, Remus was out on patrol - being prefect and all - and he heard a strange noise coming from the tower."

James nodded his head. "Yeah, and he asked us to assist him in case there might be trouble. That's when we found Severus standing out here on the ledge. We were just trying to help him down. Right, Sirius?"

"That's right," Sirius grinned. "We were just helping him down."

Professor Falcor stepped out onto the platform and eyed each one in turn. "Is that correct, Mr. Lupin?"

Remus nodded. Then, bowed his head.

"Severus?"

Severus had his back turned: his black eyes narrowed as he cast his gaze over the snow in search of his wand. He did not respond.

The Professor stared at him for a moment and then turned his attention back to the other boys. "Honorable as you claim your actions to be, you were still out after curfew. Fifty points shall be deducted apiece. You will also serve detention with Mr. Filch, whom I plan to inform of your conspiracy to steal liquor from the school kitchen - yes, I heard you, Mr. Black. Now, get back to your dormitory before I am forced to involve the Headmaster."

The four boys climbed through the window and shuffled out of the tower.

Turning his face to the side, Professor Falcor raised his arm and coughed into his sleeve. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and coughed another time, and then gave one final deep-throated cough into the cloth that sounded like a clap of thunder.

Claira stared at the dark rings around his eyes. Her brow formed a sharp ridge. She moved closer to inspect the dilation of his pupils but, as she neared him, he stepped away to stand beside Severus.

They both stared down at the snow. "What are we looking for?"

"My wand," Severus grumbled.

"I see." He withdrew his wand and pointed it at the grounds. "Accio wand."

The wand unearthed from a heap of snow and soared up the tower, and into his hand. He gave it to Severus.

Severus pocketed the wand.

"I have noticed a change in you, Severus," the Professor said. "You have distanced yourself from me, your House and your potions studies. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

The professor allowed a moment of silence to pass between them before he spoke again. "You have been my pupil for six years, yet you still do not trust me. But, regardless of your silence, I have never stopped wanting to help you. You have a special gift, Severus. It would be a shame to allow outside interferences to distract you from your true talents."

Severus ignored his comments and turned his back towards him. The Professor sighed. "I had hoped you would continue with your experiments and, if possible, enter one of them in next year's Potions Competition. I hear the Ministry is offering a full scholarship to any university that the winner chooses. You could travel the world, meet new people and perhaps even establish a career as an alchemist."

"How can you be so certain that I will win?" Severus folded his arms and watched as the wind taunted the branches of the whomping willow. "There will be hundreds of entries."

"I have been monitoring your progression in potions since you first arrived at Hogwarts. Soon, you will reach a master's level of skill. Do you think any of those other students match your talent? I have taught thousands during my years as a Professor; I can assure you, the answer is no." He threaded his fingers through his scraggly beard and scratched his chin. "I thought maybe you could enter that invisibility draught you've been concocting. I realize it is not complete but, with my assistance, we could have it ready in time for the competition. What do you think?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "I think you are wrong."

"Fine. You are entitled to your opinion," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "After you are done drowning in your pool of self-pity, return to your dormitory. In the morning, you may report to Mr. Filch for further instructions on your detention. I cannot allow you to break curfew without punishment." He snatched out his handkerchief and coughed into it. "I had thought better of you, Mr. Snape. I had hoped you would rise above the multitude of challenges you face in your life and perhaps make something of yourself. Apparently, I was wrong."

He turned to leave.

"You did not allow me to finish," Severus called behind him, his face struggling to suppress his emotions. "I think you are wrong... but I will enter the competition, if it pleases you."

The Professor whirled about. "No, you will do it to please yourself - else do not do it at all. I am not here to seek favors from you. What I am seeking is to create the opportunity for you to succeed. In that sense, I shall provide you with the tools and you will use them to the best of your ability. Is that clear?"

"Quite clear."

He grinned. "I knew you had some spirit left in you. Right! I think we should begin straight away. Meet me in the laboratory after dinner tomorrow. There is much to be done!"

The slightest of smiles passed over Severus's lips at the sight of the Professor's excitement. "Does this mean I am free of detention?"

"Ah no," he frowned. "But perhaps I can arrange something with Mr. Filch that will not conflict with your work."

Severus pulled a face as he made for the window. Walking beside him, Professor Falcor placed his hand on Severus's opposite shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Come now, the old squib can't be that bad?"

Severus snorted, "You have no idea."

Claira stared at the small, irregular stigmas on the back of the Professors neck as the two melted into the darkness. Her eyes closed in foreboding. She already knew what the coming memory would bring.

In the next flash of light, she was standing in Professor Falcor's laboratory. Severus was alone, bent over a long scroll and a rack of steamy glass vials. To his left was a bubbling cauldron. To his right, were strange apparatuses used for weighing and measuring temperatures.

If Claira's prognosis of the Professor's health was correct, it was approximately six months later.

Severus had his nose to the parchment, filling out his application for the Potions Competition. When the door creaked open, he glanced at the hourglass but he did not turn to see who was standing in the doorway. He must have assumed it was Professor Falcor, for he lowered his voice to mimic his teacher's and with a cheeky grin said, "You, sir, are precisely two hours late... "

Claira thought they must now be on very amicable terms indeed for Severus to feel he was able to impersonate his professor in such a manner. Severus continued in his natural tone, "No matter. Come see. I've finished it."

He stood and stirred the contents of the cauldron with a long, wooden ladle. "I had made a slight miscalculation with the dragon's blood last night. But, in doing so, I discovered that the increase of nucleic acids eliminated cell mutation, thus enabling the skin to transpose without damaging the internal organs... Well? Say something then!"

He spun around to see that it was Dumbledore who had entered the chamber. His lurid face reflected a deep sadness and his eyes were splotched with unshed tears.

Severus did not seem to take notice. He turned back to the cauldron and continued to stir. "My apologies, Headmaster. I thought you were Professor Falcor."

"That is... quite all right." Dumbledore said in a near whisper. He walked further into the room and stood beneath the glow of a hanging torchlight, and watched him for a short time. "You know, Severus, you remind me very much of Jonathan at your age. He used to lock himself away in this laboratory for hours, brewing potions and avoiding social gatherings when at all possible."

"Used to?" Severus asked, peering close at the murky liquid, then stirring it again. "I believe he still does."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and smiled. "Indeed, he enjoyed his work very much; both with potions and as a professor. I do not know if you ever realized this, Severus, but Jonathan took great pride in his students. He was most especially proud of you, I think. He would often praise you to the other professors; similar to the way a father would praise his son. I believe that is how he thought of you."

Severus slowed his hand to a halt. His brow furrowed. "You speak of him as if he were - were something of the past."

Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and fingers.

The silence was almost deafening. Severus slowly turned to face him, his face ashen, as if he half expected the terrible truth he was about to hear.

Dumbledore moved his lips, but nothing came out. It appeared he was having great difficulty finding the right words. Then he said, "Severus, Jonathan has gone."

"What do you mean gone?" exclaimed Severus, his eyes wide and the hand holding the ladle beginning to tremble. "We had an appointment to test the potion tonight. When can I expect him back?"

Dumbledore blinked a few times, then he said, "No, Severus. What I meant is, Jonathan has died. He passed away in his bedchambers this afternoon."

The room fell silent again.

Dumbledore waited a moment for the words to sink in before he continued, a tear now falling from his blue eyes. "I know this is difficult for you. You must understand how difficult this is for me - for all of us. However, I wanted to be the one to tell you before the rumors had time to manifest..."

Severus stiffened and turned, then stared down at the streaks of blood swirling in his cauldron. "I... do not understand."

"Professor Falcor was very ill. I know what you are thinking - yes, he did teach his lessons this morning. He kept his failing health hidden to the last. I believe he masked his pain and the more apparent symptoms with various potions. His privacy had always been one of choice."

Claira could see the anger building inside of Severus; his nostrils were flaring and his chest had begun to heave with every forced breath.

"Why did he not tell me? We could have worked on a cure, instead of this rubbish!" He flung the ladle aside and slammed his palms down on the table, his head bowed so that his hair blanketed his face.

"Jonathan was born with a deformed lung. When he was a child, he developed a disease known to our world as Ramex Morbus or, in more modern terms, a rare form of lung cancer. There is no cure for it. Severus, nothing could have been done to save him."

Severus's breathing quickened and his eyes, wild and frantic, darted this way and that, as he tried to make sense of what he was being told.

Dumbledore continued softly. "Do not blame yourself, nor him for keeping it from you. I imagine he did not want to be treated or looked at any differently, and rightly so."

Severus's body began to shake. He looked about him as if looking for a means of escape and then, finding none, he exploded. "Then this has all been for nothing! The lessons, the potion, the competition - EVERYTHING!"

He gripped the edge of the table and overturned it, which sent the cauldron and vials crashing to the floor. The potion polluted the chamber, seeping through the cracks and emitting vapors as it splashed against the opposite wall. Severus then attacked the shelves; he smashed everything he could get his hands on, including a large jar of dead cockroaches.

"Severus, please," Dumbledore pleaded above the noise. "Destroying Jonathan's things is not the way to honor his memory."

"Honor?" Severus growled. "How do you honor a man who was a bloody coward and a liar? He promised me an opportunity to succeed, to leave this hellish nightmare of a life and start anew. Now he is dead. Where, then, is the honor in his hypocrisy? He deserves nothing."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "Jonathan was a man of his word! He has already given you the opportunity to succeed: by filling your mind with knowledge. With his teachings, he gave you the greatest gift one person can give to another, which is an education that enables you to utilize your talents to their fullest. I believe you told me the potion is now complete? What else is left to do but enter it into the competition?"

He flicked his wand at the chaos Severus created and put everything back to right.

"Know this, Severus," Dumbledore then continued. "Jonathan's life expectancy ended four months ago. He set aside death and suffered greatly to see that his promise to you was fulfilled; the least you can do is follow through with yours. Submit the application. By doing so, you will have passed his legacy on to the world and, in like manner, expressed your gratitude."

Severus stood trembling, his eyelids swollen with stifled tears. His hand rubbed his forearm, as if to conceal a deeper concern about the Professor's passing. "You do not understand. I don't think I can do it alone."

"You are not alone. I am here," Dumbledore told him. "And, Professor Falcor will always be with you in your memory, and in your heart."

Severus walked on unsteady feet to the door, his shoulders slumped and his eyes distant from reality. Before he exited the chamber, he turned to Dumbledore and choked, "We shall see."

The laboratory was then flooded with darkness.

Claira closed her eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She now understood the reasons why Severus had turned to the Dark Arts; he had known nothing but pain and anger in his youth. The only source of light that he held dear to him had extinguished with the passing of his Professor. Dumbledore was a wise, kind and sincere wizard, but he was also a very busy man. No doubt he would have helped Severus, if he had taken the time to ask for it; however, Dumbledore should have known that Severus would never have lowered his guard enough to risk being thought of as weak. He had to be strong to survive.

When Claira opened her eyes again, she was standing outside the castle on the stone walkway near the main entrance and the Great Hall. It was dark, cold and quiet. But inside the Hall, Claira noticed as she peered through the window, was a bright celebration. Students were dancing to loud thumping music while teachers stood by and sipped merrily from their goblets. The decorations on the walls and tables suggested that it was the end of the year graduation feast.

A soft shuffle behind Claira pulled her gaze to a tall, imposing young man. He was dressed in finely tailored black robes that exhibited a thin yet impressive form. Severus's hair now skimmed his shoulders and his posture was straight, and proud. What a difference that summer had made! He had adopted a peculiar attractiveness, the very same that Claira found appealing in his adulthood. His large, hooked nose was his weakest feature, but his piercing black eyes and strong jaw distracted enough attention to make him handsome.

He was pacing in circles, casting an occasional glance into the Great Hall and then checking his pocket watch. There was something troublesome in his expression, as if he were in a fierce battle with his thoughts. In the distance, the bell chimed to warn of the nearing hour. Severus stopped to look at the entrance gates. He stared at them for a moment, and then he began to pace again.

Now muttering to himself in the deep baritone he had also developed during his final year of school, Severus clenched his fists and began to pound the stone with his sizeable leather boots. His eyes reflected deep turmoil.

"Severus?" came a soft, angelic voice.

Severus froze in his steps and, without turning around, said, "Lily?"

Claira spun about and watched as a young woman in a scarlet gown approached. She was slender and elegant with long, flaming red hair, and sparkling green eyes. The glow of her skin resembled that of a goddess. Claira blushed at the sight of her. Jealousy prickled her insides at the idea that Severus held this girl in so high of an honor.

Staring at the girl's glorified figure, she realized that his memory of Lily was much more flattering than the one he held of her. Claira's heart sank in her chest. Was this girl the exaggerated image of a schoolboy fantasy, or was she a vision of love?

"Dumbledore was asking for you," Lily told him, her rosy lips curving into a perfect smile. "What are you doing out here?"

Severus whirled around on his heel. When his eyes met hers, they widened and then dropped to adore the rest of her enchanting form. "Thinking."

"About tomorrow? So am I." She frowned and cast her eyes out over the lake. "It seems like only yesterday we first arrived here on the train. Now, we will all leave on it in the morning, never to return."

Severus nodded and inched closer, as if she were magnetic.

Lily looked at him and smiled. "I heard you won a scholarship. Congratulations! You are lucky, you know. The rest of us will have to rely on our N.E.W.T.s and student grants to get into a decent university."

Severus nodded again, still staring at her in disbelief. It was clear from his reaction that whoever, or whatever, it was he was waiting for was not Lily. He seemed surprised she had left the celebration and had stepped outside. Severus also appeared perplexed by her close proximity. He was at a loss for words.

"Enough of that, I suppose." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned to face him. "I noticed you had not asked a girl to dance tonight. Is there any particular reason why?"

Drawing in a deep breath of courage, Severus leaned forward and murmured, "Yes, you were preoccupied."

"Well," she grinned. "I'm not now, am I?"

Lily then stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. He took her other hand in his palm, placed his trembling one on her hip and led her into a slow waltz. They danced to the muffled music in the background; however, it was impossible to decipher the song and tempo through the thick glass windows. Severus's feet were clumsy and uncertain at first, but they soon gained confidence and achieved a controlled rhythm.

His eyes closed in ignorant bliss, unaware that Lily was struggling to keep a friendly distance between them.

He inhaled the fragrance of her hair. Then, he nudged his nose further down to smell the perfume on her neck. She flinched at his sudden closeness but he did not appear to notice. His eyes were aglow with eagerness, his body pressing forward in response to its curious arousal.

He caressed the surface of her ear with his dry lips and whispered, "How I have longed for this moment, to touch you this way. You are so beautiful."

Her eyes widened in shock as he dragged his now moistened lips across her cheek and smothered her mouth with a wet, sloppy kiss; his inexperienced tongue lashed out this way and that, licking everything it came in contact with, including her nose.

She squealed and pushed him away, wiping his saliva off her mouth with her silk sleeve. "What are you doing?"

He looked at her in panic; the redness of his cheeks against the sallow skin of his face resembled the makeup of a clown. "I... was kissing you."

"What in the world possessed you to do that?" she asked, still rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

"I don't know," he stammered. "I thought you wanted it."

She was frantic. "No, I didn't!"

Then her voice calmed when she saw his expression and realized that she was embarrassing him. "Listen, Severus, I didn't mean to mislead you. I'm sorry, but I just don't think of you in that way. You see, I'm in love with James."

Severus winced at her words. The glint in his eyes fizzled away. "Then what the devil are you doing out here with me?"

"I saw you through the window. You were out here all alone. I felt, I wanted to - "

His features hardened, taking on his signature stone expression; however, his eyes were glaring with rage. "You pity me, is that it?"

"No, Severus - I didn't mean it like that."

She moved toward him.

He backed away.

"Don't touch me, Mudblood!" he growled. "Go back to that idiot Potter and dance till your filthy heart's content. Marry the bastard for all I care! But you will regret it. Mark my word."

Before Lily could respond, Severus spun on his heel and made a dash for the entrance gates. Claira fought to keep up, panting as her feet hammered the ground behind him. He stopped in a small clearing outside of the castle's boundaries and checked his pocket watch.

"DAMN!" he barked, his face twisting into one of dread.

Claira stumbled through the gates and ran towards him as he raised his wand above his head. She heard a loud crack, and then a brilliant flash of light blinded her eyes.

The pensieve had made a swift transition into the next memory, tossing her amidst a dense thicket of trees. The moonlight peaked between the large clusters of leaves, casting a haunting glow over the surrounding forest.

Just ahead of her, Claira heard the snapping of branches, and caught a glimpse of Severus's lanky silhouette moving through the brushwood towards a ring of burning torches. He was still clad in his graduation robes, which told her that this memory must have happened that same night. She followed him to the outskirts of the forest and watched as he paused to dust off his garments. He then hurried towards a small group of cloaked figures, which had formed a ceremonial type circle around a tall, sinister man and two younger boys; they looked to be about the same age as Severus. They were knelt on one knee, heads bowed and clutching their forearms.

As Severus approached the coterie of dark wizards and witches, one of them grabbed him by the front of his robes, drew him within inches of his masked face, and hissed, "You fool! I told you not to be late."

A few strands of blonde hair slipped out from beneath his hood as he tossed Severus into the center of the ring.

Severus fell to his knees before the sinister man, whose face bore a distinct deformation caused by the excessive misuse of Dark magic, and bowed his head. His shoulders were trembling. "Forgive me, my Lord."

The tall, frightening wizard dismissed the other two boys with the wave of his hand and began to circle Severus, peering down at him through cold, fathomless eyes. After a few rounds, he spoke. "Are you prepared to serve your master?"

"Yes, my Lord."

He folded his arms behind his back, slowed his pace and continued, "Are you willing to pledge allegiance to the cause; to obey my every command, regardless of the cost? Tell me, are you ready to surrender your life to the Knights of Walpurgis?"

Severus lifted his head and said, without hesitation, "Yes, my Lord."

"Then hold out your arm," he ordered.

He stopped in front of Severus, his cloak thrashing against the wind, and withdrew his wand. Severus unbuttoned his cuff and rolled his sleeves up to his elbow. He then lifted his arm, exposing his wrist to the night sky. After a moment of silence, the wizard touched the tip of his wand to Severus's forearm and spoke the incantation, which branded his skin with the putrid image of a human skull with a serpent for a tongue.

Severus cried out in agony and clamped his hand over his burning flesh.

The evil wizard curled his lip in disgust and waited for Severus to recover. He then said, in a cold, heartless tone, "Just as you have taken your oath as my loyal servant, so shall you accept punishment for your misdeed."

Severus glanced up at him in confusion and in return received a powerful, open-handed slap across his cheek. Saliva flew from his mouth at the blow and the sharp fingernail scratches left by the wizard's hand began to bleed down the side of his nose. The others snickered in delight.

"NEVER ARRIVE LATE AGAIN! FROM NOW UNTIL YOUR DEATH - NOTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN MY ORDERS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

Severus, with his body quivering, nodded his head, fear pooling behind his black eyes. In the next moment, there was a flash of light and Severus toppled over screaming. He jerked and twitched on the ground, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his fingers clawed at his scalp. The world blurred and its sounds were replaced with an ear-piercing screech. Claira covered her ears and crouched into a ball.

The sadistic wizard lowered his wand.

Severus stilled and panted against the damp grass. He slowly sat up after a time and bowed, once again, before the Dark Lord.

"Now, stand."

Severus struggled to his feet and stood.

"Stand," the wizard repeated, "and take your privileged place amongst my most trusted followers. Lucius, make room for your fellow knight. We now have a Potions master to complete our fold."

The others looked stunned and passed secret, wary glances at each other, but they did not dare speak their thoughts. The two new Death Eaters Claira had seen earlier stood off to the side and glared at Severus with utter loathing.

Severus wobbled to the space the band of accomplished followers had created for him and attempted to wipe his cheek clean with his knuckles. Instead, the blood smeared across his skin like a watery mudslide. Staring at the others, he grinned with pride and reached into a hidden pocket sewn inside his cloak.

He withdrew a shiny white mask and slipped it over his swollen, bruised face, and tied its ribbon tight behind his head.

Darkness veiled Claira's weary eyes.

The next set of memories happened in a sequence of blurred images and sounds, like a collection of nightmares; the kind that a dreamer vaguely remembers after he awakens, or fights to forget.

Claira's body spiraled through the darkness, and then was tossed into a dim, distorted room. It resembled a study, with dozens of worn books on crooked shelves, scattered scrolls and a mahogany desk that kept shifting in size. In the center of the room stood five cloaked figures. They were circling around a short, burly man bounded by magical ropes. He was flopping on the floor like a stubby worm on a hook. Claira inched closer and saw that blood was oozing from his nose and mouth, and his eyes were burnt shut.

"I think we have all the information we need," croaked one of the wizards. "We had better dispose of him before the Aurors arrive."

"Right. I'll do it." A tall, hooded man stepped forward and pointed his wand at the struggling man on the floor.

"No," snapped another. "Severus, it is time you earned your place. Show Mr. Greenwich here what happens to those who refuse to pay tribute to the Dark Lord."

Claira watched as the tall, hooded man stepped aside to allow a thin, masked wizard to come forward. The only evidence that it was Severus, were the sweaty strands of black hair that clung to his temples. He stood over the squirming man on the floor and pointed his wand.

The others stared in silence, waiting for the curse to be administered.

Severus hesitated.

He twisted the wand in his hand for a better grip; its handle had become slippery from his skin's perspiration. Claira could hear him panting from beneath the mask and saw the sweat drip off his chin like a miniature waterfall.

"Well, boy? What are you waiting for? Get on with it!" snarled the tall, hooded man.

Severus flinched and flicked his wand at the flopping body, but he did not speak the incantation. He began to totter back and forth, his chest heaving beneath his black robes, as if he were about to faint.

"Lucius, the boy is incompetent. We do not have time for this nonsense - "

"Silence!" the man hissed, pulling off his mask. "I do believe the Dark Lord put me in charge. As such, I shall decide whether or not we have the time."

He approached Severus and placed a hand on his shoulder, and leaned closer to whisper in his ear. "Ignore them - the first time is always difficult. Try to envision someone you hate, someone you would like to kill if you had the chance."

"My father," Severus muttered.

"Good. Now picture him in your mind. Focus on the hate. Feel the anger and let it flow through your veins - utilize the skills the Dark Lord has taught you." He moved to stand beside Severus's other shoulder. "Concentrate. Look at that disgusting lump of lard on the floor. He is your father. Do you see it?"

Severus straightened his back and raised his wand, no longer trembling. "Yes, I see it."

"Excellent," the man grinned. "Kill him."

The room fell into a dead silence, and then -

"Avada Kedavra."

The squirming man on the floor stilled. There was no gasp, no cry or movement when the curse struck his chest. He just stiffened and lay there with his eyes open, frozen. It was a frightening thing to watch. In all her years of study and volunteer work at the hospital, Claira had never witnessed the Killing Curse or seen its effects.

As she stared down at the dead body, a cold chill crawled up her spine; the realization of it struck her heart like a bolt of lightning. Severus had committed murder.

The air filled with the sound of cracking whips as the other men disapparated, leaving Severus alone with the corpse. Stealing a quick glance around the room, he removed his mask and held it to his side.

The spectral glow of the fire cast its haunting light upon his thin, sallow face; what Claira saw there made her shiver. His features were wrought with hatred and the darkness of his magic shrouded his eyes with an evil so black she could no longer see life in them. He looked corpse-like, more so than the carcass at his feet.

But despite his swarthy visage, his body had begun to tremble. Claira suspected that he no longer saw the mirage of his slain father, but the innocent man who had refused to hand his gold over to the Dark Lord. Severus bowed his head, his long black hair falling over his face to veil his shame.

Just then, another crack sounded and the man named Lucius reappeared. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Severus standing over the limp body. As if struggling to conceal a hidden animosity, his lip drew into a sneer, then thinned again when Severus lifted his gaze. "Come along, Severus. We have other work to do."

Severus nodded and backed away from the corpse, replacing his Death Eater mask.

"It gets easier with practice," Lucius told him, lifting his wand. "But you won't learn it hiding behind your cauldrons - it requires experience."

Severus drew himself up to a proud stance. "The Dark Lord has ordered me to brew - "

"As I have said," Lucius snapped, his nose wrinkling as if he had just caught whiff of a foul odor. "You will not stay in Lord Voldemort's graces by waving your ladle about like some pompous arse. You must earn his respect, as we have, by reinforcing his power upon those who dare to oppose him. Unless, of course, you are under the illusion that the Dark Lord favors your talents, and thinks you are above the rest of us?"

Severus averted his eyes. "No, clearly not."

"Good. Then I shall grant you the honor of first kill at Durham Manor." He flashed a false grin. "Come, the others are waiting."

Claira heard two sharp pops before the room was consumed by blackness.

She quivered and wrapped her arms around herself, exhausting the last of her tears. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought Severus sunk so deep into the Darkness. Had he learnt nothing from Professor Falcor's teachings? Or was it so important for him to belong to something that he was willing to do anything, even the most heinous of crimes?

That boy, that creature, was not the man Claira knew.

She cringed when the new light approached, terrified of what else she might discover about Severus. However, the next memory the pensieve regurgitated was utter chaos and too confusing to understand. Claira heard women screaming, saw flashes of terrified faces and green flashes of light cast from the tip of an ebony wand. Angry voices shouted at Severus from the shadows, while others cackled and taunted him.

There was no definitive space or time, only blackness and memories that seemed to bleed together to make one short, horrifying filmstrip. Claira counted close to a dozen witches and wizards: Muggles, young and old, who appeared like phantasms through the darkness, all with eyes that were hollow, and lifeless. Whether or not they were all victims murdered by Severus's hands, Claira did not know. She did not want to know.

She would never know.

The pensieve had performed another transition, launching her into a grand hall of smoke, soft music and chatter. Although everyone wore lavish gowns and handsome robes, Claira suspected it was an informal party, possibly hosted by someone who was wealthy and seeking prestige. She recognized a few of the faces from old newspaper articles; many of them worked for the Ministry of Magic.

Severus stood beside the man named Lucius; both were dressed in extravagant robes and were surveying the crowd with an air of superiority. Claira's heart skipped a beat as she stared at the younger man of the two. Severus had shed his gauntness and was now her age, a bachelor in his prime. He stood proud and smart but with a forbidden, devilish glint in his eyes.

Claira's knees felt weak, and her legs wobbled when she moved closer to hear what Lucius was murmuring from behind his raised glass of wine.

"I heard the Dark Lord was very pleased with your latest concoction. So much, in fact, that he decided to employ it in his recent plot to overthrow the Ministry. You must be proud?"

"Yes, he spoke of an assassination plan in which it might be of some use," Severus grinned. "However, he did not elaborate as to whom."

Lucius raised a sharp, wicked eyebrow.

Just then, an attractive female wearing a tight, black silk dress approached them. In one hand, she held a silver platter garnished with fresh caviar and lobster croquettes, while the other balanced a salver of elegant wineglasses. Severus plucked one up between his long, slender fingers and dismissed her with a curt nod, but his lusty eyes followed her across the room.

Once she was out of sight, Severus tilted the glass to his lips.

Lucius cleared his throat. "I would suggest not swallowing that if you wish to keep your good health."

Severus glanced at the untapped glass in Lucius's hand, narrowed his eyes, and then discretely spat the wine back into his own glass.

Lucius grinned. "Clever boy. Now, relax and keep a low profile; I suspect things are about to get quite interesting."

He checked his pocket watch, and then lifted his hand to signal another man standing near the entranceway. A silent exchange passed between the two men before Lucius handed his glass to Severus and disappeared into the crowd.

A few moments later, Claira heard loud gasps and shrieks, and then what sounded like a small rumble of thunder. She spun around and, much to her horror, saw dozens of bodies slumped on the floor, dead. Many of them were still clutching their wineglasses.

Severus stared at the massacre with an open, quivering jaw. The two glasses he held slipped from his fingers and shattered on the marble floor around his black, snakeskin dress shoes.

The sound of clapping hands rose above the haunting melody of violins streaming in the background. Lucius and the other man approached Severus from across the room, stepping over bodies as if they were meager lumps of stone in their pathway.

"Well done, Severus," Lucius said. "You have finally proven your worth to the Dark Lord. I must say, I did have my doubts about you, but tonight you have surpassed my expectations."

"Indeed," the other man muttered.

Just then, the entrance doors swung open and in walked a tall, gangly man. His voice was sharp and impatient. "Lucius, I think it would be best to leave before the Aurors are dispatched; Avery has just cast the Dark Mark over the manor."

"He did, did he? I told the fool to wait until..." Lucius pierced his lips as if to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't. He then clamped his hand on Severus's shoulder. "No matter. Come along, Severus, we have a little celebration party to attend to at Macnair's mansion."

Severus followed the men out of the hall, his dark eyes glued to the mass of dead bodies on the floor. He was the last to exit. And, as he pulled the doors closed behind him, he paused to stare at the devastation his misguided talents had caused. The expression on his face was one of confusion, fear, mortification and shock, as if he had just awoken from a false reality.

As Claira gazed into his disenchanted eyes, she felt the pull of the pensieve. It cloaked her body in darkness, and spun her for only a moment before thrusting her into the next memory.

This new remembrance appeared to be a sequel to the last. Severus was still dressed in his luxurious robes but now stood in a warm, torch lit cellar. The smell of alcohol, smoke and musk burned Claira's nostrils; it was a surprising attack on her senses that she had not experienced with the other memories.

Strange sounds also surrounded her, attracting her eyes to the shadowy corners of the chamber; there Claira saw men engaged in sexual acts with what she suspected were harlots dressed in leather or lace, depending on that particular wizard's preference. Some of them were coupled, while others participated in orgies.

It then dawned on her that the musky scent of the room was not one of an aged, underground lair but of raw, exposed sex. Claira's eyes widened in both shock and disgust. She quickly placed her finger beneath her nose to block the stench and turned her head back towards Severus, but he had moved away from the door.

Her eyes darted around the room in search of him, and she spotted him in the back with a brimming goblet of liquor in hand and a thin, bony-hipped whore strung on his shoulder. Claira cringed at the sight of it but forced herself to approach him. He was speaking to the man named Macnair, the unfortunate owner of the manor and its shady cellar; Claira knew him from his role as the Ministry's executioner, which she now realized was used as a cover to deter society from knowing his true profession as one of the Dark Lord's henchman.

Closing in on the conversation, Claira passed by two men that she recognized from the night Severus had received the Dark Mark; they were the two boys also branded with the serpent and the skull but not accepted into the inner circle of Death Eaters. It was made obvious then by the scowls on their faces that they were not fond of him.

One of them, a man with squinty eyes, muttered to the other, "Just look at that pompous fraud, acting as if he is all-deserving. Why, any fool could mix toxins together and make a poison. The Dark Lord acts as if the bastard had brewed a bloody miracle!"

"Too right. And he missed another raid last night, third one this month," spat the other, glaring at Severus. "Thinks he's above the rest of us, that one does."

"Well then, perhaps it is time someone put him in his place."

The other man, whose long hair was sleeked back with an oily substance, turned to the squinty-eyed man and raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"What I mean is... " His voice lowered to a whisper as they bowed their heads together.

Claira could no longer hear what they were saying but she suspected the two were concocting a malicious scheme, no doubt spawned from their jealousy and resentment towards Severus. The catty glances they were casting in his direction left an ill feeling in her stomach.

Her eyes remained fixated on them, unable to shed the sense of dread that was now creeping up her spine. She watched as they discarded their wine goblets, gave one final nod to each other, and strode over to Severus with swift, purposeful steps.

They each clapped a hand on opposite sides of his shoulders, which startled him into spilling a small portion of his drink onto the dusty, stone floor.

The man with oily hair shoved the bony whore aside, while the squinty-eyed man said to Severus, "I heard you put on quite a show tonight. Fifty-seven dead, is it? Not a bad tally for a single night's work. Of course, one must take into consideration the fact that the poison performed most of the magic, if not all of it."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "What is it you want, Medeley?"

"Why, only to congratulate you, of course. After all, you are the man of the hour."

"Hear, hear!" crowed the other. "What say you to a round of Ogden's and a proper celebration?"

They grinned at each other and tightened their grip on his cloak. The oily-haired man plucked the goblet from Severus's hand and thrust it at the whore, as he and Medeley ushered Severus towards a wooden door hidden in a dark corner of the cellar.

Severus began to struggle as they neared it, but the two men forced him forward and pushed him through the doorway. They released him once they were all inside the room.

Claira gasped at the horror that awaited her, and tried to flee the chamber, but the doorway was sealed with a black void; the pensieve would not allow her to leave the memory. She had no choice but to endure the gruesome display.

There was more coupling in this room, only these women did not look like harlots, nor did they appear to be involved in consensual acts; they were shrieking, clawing and weeping at the men. Some of them were not women at all, but nude young girls with bite marks on their bodies and bruises on their thighs, wrists and faces. The men had their wands pointed to their temples, spitting instructions and casting harsh punishments when they were refused.

Severus stood frozen, his jaw tightening as he stared at the spectacle.

"What's the matter, Snape?" oozed the squinty-eyed man. "The sight of nude women doesn't bother you, does it? Or perhaps you prefer naked boys instead?"

Severus's eyes flashed, and he whirled around - only to have two wands jabbed into his throat.

"What I would like to know is why you never participate in the more pleasurable executions of our enemies, these unpure Muggles and Mudbloods? And yet, you are all too willing to take a whore to bed. Surely you do not think these vile creatures worthy of sympathy? Perhaps you have a heart in that feeble chest of yours after all."

"Fuck you, Travers," Severus spat.

"No," Medeley replied, "Fuck her, right now - prove your loyalty. We would all like to see you get your bloody hands dirty for once."

He pointed to a young girl sobbing on the floor. She was on her back, blood escaping from her nostrils, knees quivering as the brutal wizard kneeling between her legs fastened up his trousers. She looked to be no more than fifteen years of age.

Severus narrowed his eyes and hissed, "I need to prove nothing to you."

"No?" he grinned. "Imperio!"

Severus stiffened, his eyes dulling to the texture of stones.

"As I was saying," Medeley continued, "get down on your hands and knees, and - "

"NOOO!" roared Severus, the intelligence and control returning to his eyes.

Medeley quickly raised his wand and repeated, "IMPERIO!"

Severus's eyes dulled, but did not sink into a trance as they had the first time. After a moment, his mind regained control and his hand plunged into his robes for his wand.

"IMPERIO!"

"He is an Occlumens, you dolt! His mind is too strong - "

"Ready your wand! He can't break a double incantation," Medeley cried.

Travers lifted his wand, and they both shouted in unison, "IMPERIO!"

Severus stumbled backwards and fell to his knees, his eyes now flat and muted from his thoughts.

"Now, do as I say, defile this piece of filth and then dispose of her," Medeley rasped.

Claira's eyes tore across the room in panic. The other men, the ones Severus had once considered to be allies, were all watching - watching and doing nothing to stop it. Many of them sneered down at him, as if they too thought he deserved to be punished for his accomplishments and lack of common virtues, however dark and twisted they were.

The man named Lucius, Severus's corrupt mentor, sat in a nearby armchair. He had long, curly locks sprawled across his nude thighs, a woman's head bopping up and down between his legs; however, his grey eyes were locked on Severus, amusement in his gaze, wantonness even.

Claira felt as though she were about to vomit. Just then, a bloodcurdling scream rang out, and she looked down to see that it had come from the young girl; Severus had her wrists pinned to the floor and her naked, battered body trapped beneath his clothed one.

"Please, no... don't!" the girl sobbed, kicking out her feet with what little energy and willpower she had left.

Severus ignored her pleas. He continued to grunt and grind his hips between her thin legs, as if the barrier of fabric between them was nonexistent.

The room suddenly began to blur. Images of faces became smeared across a black background, and all Claira could hear were men's laughter and a child's desperate cries for help.

Then her sight returned.

Severus was propped up on his elbows now, half nude, and staring down at the trembling girl in a mixture of confusion and shock. He glanced between them and released a shaky sigh; his trousers were still intact. He had not managed penetration. But, what he had managed to do was break the dual curse the two men had placed on him.

In a flash, he was on his feet and had his wand pointed, curses spewing from his mouth. There was more laughter from the spectators as the two men fell to the floor, their bodies mangled and twitching.

The cruel wizards did not seem to care who was being tortured, friend or foe, as long as they were entertained.

Severus stared around the room, his eyes frantic and mortified. He slowly backed away towards the door, and then in a leap bounded out of the room.

Claira chased him out of the cellar, along a dim corridor, through the entrance hall and out of the manor.

The moment moonlight touched his sallow skin, he apparated from the grounds.

There was a brief moment of spiraling blackness before Claira was thrust onto the cold, wet grounds of Hogwarts. It was still nighttime. Severus lay beside her on his back, just outside the entrance gates. He had his hands over his face, and his robes were splayed open to reveal fresh fingernail scratches on his chest and shoulders.

He remained this way for several long minutes, until at last he sat up and turned to stare at the castle. Claira could see its tiny, shinning torchlights reflecting in his hollow eyes. His expression was of one who felt betrayed, ashamed, fretful and yet eager to return to the one place he could call home.

As if a powerful wind had swept him off his feet, Severus was up and halfway across the field before Claira even realized he had moved. She sprang to her feet and ran after him but her sore, tired body was hardly able to carry her weight. Still, she forced herself on. She had to know, had to hear Dumbledore's reaction to his story, and also what story Severus would tell. After all, this was the beginning of his years as a spy for the Order, or so legend had it.

Claira saw his faint shadow in the distance and sprinted towards the entrance gates. But just as she passed through the swinging steal bars a tall, dark figure emerged from the opposite side, and she collided into it. The impact knocked her off balance and she fell backwards onto the damp, slippery grass. Her back hit the ground with a hard thud.

"Umph!"

It was not possible for a pensieve memory to parent solid objects, Claira told herself, while lifting her gaze to a pair of familiar black boots. Her eyes quickly rose past the gorge of sable buttons to stare straight into the fiery eyes of Severus Snape.

He was no longer the translucent memory of his younger self but of present age, and made of flesh and bone.

Claira's worst fear had come true - Severus had indeed returned early.

The reality of it did not sink in until he swooped down and yanked her up by her arm. His breath was steaming out through his nostrils, his grip tightening with each passing moment. He did not speak a word. There was no need; Claira could see the fury in his eyes, feel it in his burning fingertips. She had never seen him more enraged.

To be continued...

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Author's note: I know, I know - another bloody cliffhanger. There was just no way around it. This chapter is nearly 15,000 words! In another week or so I will be moving to a new house, which would have suspended writing for another few weeks (I have taken several already along the course of this chapter to make the purchase). I promise to continue as soon as I am settled in. Have faith in me; I vow to see Cauldrons Aflame through till the end. Thank you all for returning time and time again to read.

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Commentaries

Animagious-White-Tiger: Yes, I did promise to post bi-weekly on Occlumency (http / occlumency . sycophanthex . com / - without spaces, this site deletes urls). It is where I am reposting this story with additions and revisions of the earlier chapters, when I was just beginning to learn how to write. But I have a lot on my plate to chew right now. Anyone who has purchased a home knows what I am going through! It eats up tons of my time aside from motherhood, a nighttime job, home business and wifely duties. Please, bear with me! I hope to free up some time once we make the move.

As for your comments, Severus was overly severe with Healey when he had hexed Claira, I agree. He did not expel Malfoy for the lust draught because he was only beginning to develop feelings for Claira; it was more lust than love at that point. But with Healey, Severus was out of his mind and over-reacted, acting on his sweltering emotions rather than good sense. I originally had more to Healey's story, but it was cut due to its irrelevance to the central plot. So, for those of you who are upset by Severus's treatment of him, know that Dumbledore appealed the expulsion and minimized the boy's sentence to two weeks of detention with Filch. However, the boy's parents were so enraged they withdrew their son from Hogwarts and placed him in Durmstrang for the remainder of his schooling years. As for his wand, Dumbledore deducted the cost to replace it out of Severus's pay.

As for the tense thing, yes, I had trouble with it when I first began. I have since found an incredible beta. She has taught me so much and helped me to improve my writing by 100. She also happens to be the author of my favorite Snape fic, "A Winter's Fairy Tale". I would recommend anyone who has not read it to do so immediately.

Thank you for taking the time to review all my chapters!

Déjà vu: I based my Snape on Alan Rickman from the movie, only younger. The voice, of course, is the same! What woman could resist that deep, velvet tone? Thanks for rereading!

DrunkenBuddie: Thank you!

Carole: Yes, I have this theory that all people look at their lovers in a glorified light, their eyes attracting to the better points and dismissing the others. That is why Severus appears to be handsomer than life (or should I say, book-life?) To Claira, he is strong. But in reality, he is built just below average, his hair is greasier than sheen and his nose is much larger than she gives it credit for!

I am glad you are still enjoying the story, even though it takes me ages to post. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. It was my most challenging yet. But I think chapter 36 will be my undoing! We shall see...

Kay50: Thanks! I hope you liked it.

Ayoraii: Thank you for your offer. Luckily, I have found a terrific beta. I paint Snape in accordance to my own taste in men. I am attracted to tall, manly men who take the first initiative and don't wimp out of a fight. And yet, are incredibly passionate and loyal to the women they love. Most of the men I have dated have been older and in an authority position. I'm glad to know I am not the only one! Thanks for reading.

Lyrabelagua: Claira's naivety and sheltered life make her vulnerable and girly, as you say. But just as Snape is changing, Claira too will change. Severus IS taking advantage of her innocent nature, but he is also teaching her to toughen her defenses, even against those she loves. Severus must be careful though, for everyone has his or her limits. Thank you for reviewing!

Estaki: How about Severus walking in as she is halfway submerged? Thank you for reading!

Rochelle: I am flattered! Thank you for taking the time to review.

Mary-Brenna McCaslin: Thank you very much! Keep reading; it gets better!

Lee: You were right! And there were many more after his return to Hogwarts, and many more that were never recorded inside the pensieve. Claira only viewed about a quarter of his horrors. Thank you for reading!

Spitfirecracker: Snape is not as handsome, nor as strong, as Claira makes him out to be. Remember, we are looking at him through her eyes. But I have since learned how to express my ideas better, and will be making massive revisions to the earlier chapters. You can find them on Occlumency. Thank you for reviewing!

Meru Miku Miyu: As long as people keep reading, I will keep writing. Thank you for your kind words. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

DreamMakerLady: Severus is under the illusion that he is in control, but is he really? Claira definitely has him hooked, but she better be careful not to pull the line too tight when reeling him in, else the line might snap. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Jennifer-Cairns: Thank you! The juicy scenes are always the most enjoyable to write. There are more to come, I promise. Keep reading!

Pickles87: Only Snape's very worst memories made it into the pensieve; else this chapter would be a million pages long! Claira only dipped a finger into his past. Imagine what else she might have learned if she had been able to stay, or if he had added all his terrible memories to the pensieve; he was insanely abused and neglected in his youth. Thank you for reading and taking the time to leave a comment. I appreciate it!

Jonequillejaune: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! LOL.

Elaine M. Lahey: Even the most delicate rose has its thorns. Claira is very forgiving and understanding, but even she has her limits. Thank you for reading and reviewing!

Anita: Thank you very much. It is very disheartening to have people read your story and not take a moment to tell you their thoughts on it. It takes me months to write a single chapter and only ten minutes to read! A simple, "this sucks!" would be better than nothing at all! LOL. But everyone really opened up this time. Thank you for that. I hope you keep reading.

Ultrahotpink: Its good to hear from you. Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this.

Ciara Scarborough: The penname is the same, just a different site. I will be updating here as well. With the Occlumency site, I wanted to start the story over fresh and really make the entire thing quality. So I am rewriting the earlier chapters and posting them there. It was more of a precaution in case this site goes down. Thank you for reading!

Sportzjunkie: Once again, your insight has astounded me. You always manage to pick up on everything I try to express. With this story, I wanted the readers to see inside both the character's minds, not just the Heroine's. Snape is so complex, and just as difficult to write. He exhausts me. This chapter, I'm afraid, is not as humorous as the last. But it is more important than anything I have written so far. Claira's love has been put to the ultimate test here. Next chapter we will see if her love forgives all. But when Snape's feelings are challenged, will his love prevail? That has yet to be seen. Thank you, so very much, for taking the time to tell me your thoughts. Your comments are so dear to me.

Floppyears: Cute name! Thank you for reading.

Queen of the Sacred Flames: Hmmm, interesting theory. We shall see... Thank you for reviewing!

Shadow of the Jyuunishi: Interesting name! Thank you for taking the time to read the story. There will be more sauciness soon, I promise. But things are getting complicated now. Too many feelings are involved and choices must be made. There is so much more to a relationship than sex, as Snape is learning. The feelings he has for her don't seem to go away after he is done, and he is trying to find out what it all means, and what to do about it. I hope you keep reading!

Pinklittlewitch: It is here, but this site won't allow URLs so you'll have to subtract the spaces: http / occlumency . sycophanthex . com /. I hope you like the revisions. And thank you for reading!

SevyHero: Good question! I don't think men ever stop thinking with their 'ahem'! LOL. Keep reading, and all your questions will be answered. Thank you for reviewing, as always.

Run Wild: Of course, thank you for all that you do!

Jade shintz: You know, I think Severus has now adopted that phrase and will forever be known as saying, "Suffice it to say...". LOL. I love it! Thank you for reading!

Courtney Anne: Right you are! But is she strong enough to resist his charms? We shall see... Thanks for reviewing!

Indomita: Your encouragement has urged me on. And I will continue until the end. Don't worry. As long as I know people are reading, I will keep writing. Thank you so much.

Whew! Thank you all for taking the time to tell me your thoughts. You have no idea how precious they are to me. Until next time...