Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season Nine
Round Three
Team: Puddlemere United
Position: Captain
Task: Write about an action or event that has major consequences.
Word count: 1297
Warnings: slight suicidal thoughts, ooc Snape, slight au
Revenge.
The moment Severus decides that he will avenge his love.
The Dark Lord has not announced which boy is the chosen one yet: Potter or Longbottom. It could easily be Longbottom and then Severus would have nothing to worry about. But word from the Dark Lord's inner circle says otherwise, and Severus worries. What if he decides that it is Potter after all, the child of the prophecy? Born as the seventh month dies, born to those who have thrice defied him? What would he do then? He would do anything to save Lily — his Lily, who is in danger now because he had told the Dark Lord of the prophecy he had overheard — but would he be able to defer the wrath of Lord Voldemort?
Severus is not someone who is easily scared. His childhood has given him a thick enough skin that not much can get through. But has never felt this scared in his life. Scared for Lily, scared for the woman he loves.
He tries to think of a reason for the Dark Lord to spare Lily's life. He can't find any. None that would satisfy Voldemort. In fact, he thinks, asking to spare her life would probably get Severus punished himself — she is a mudblood, why is he feeling so strongly for a mudblood? Besides, Lily had chosen her path the way Severus had chosen his; she had chosen James Potter and his extremely arrogant friends over him. Why should he want to save her life at all?
Because you love her.
He does. He has tried not to, several times, but he does, he does and he hates himself for it a little bit. She had betrayed him, and yet … yet he is standing in the study of the Malfoy manor, before the Dark Lord, looking him in the eye with what he is sure is a ludicrous request.
"...please, spare her." He finishes evenly, though he is very nearly about to collapse, and he knows for a fact that the Dark Lord can see it, see his nervousness and everything inside his head. Any other time he would have tried to push him out of his head but this time he finds that he cannot.
The Dark Lord folds his hands calmly, retreats from Severus's head, and assumes a simple smile.
"Why, Severus?" he asks, malice hinting in his voice, and Severus realizes that he is playing with him the way a cat would play with a mouse before it ate it.
Still, he perseveres. "She was a dear friend," he says, and it is true. She was.
"She is a mudblood, Severus, you could do much better."
The smile has not left his face. Severus tries to think of a response and fails, the steadily mounting silence the calm before the storm that is sure to come, but then, quietly, the Dark Lord unfolds his arms and leans back is his chair.
"Fine," he says, and Severus cannot believe his ears. He looks up, hope in his eyes and naivety in his head, forgetting for a moment that he is talking to Lord Voldemort, and leaves the study thanking him profusely.
He is halfway back home before he remembers the odd grin on the Dark Lord's face, and at his doorstep when he realizes where he had seen it before (right before he had decided to murder an entire muggle village), and his heart tightens once more. Surely he wouldn't do that to Lily. Not when he had promised otherwise.
There is a cliff right beside Spinner's End, and Severus is standing on its edge despite the dangerously raging winds and the pitch black night, silently willing himself to keep standing and not jump into it. It would be easier, he thinks, so much easier, to just die and not think about how Lily is dead, dead, and it is his fault, all his fault.
The loud crack behind him startles him enough that he nearly loses his balance, almost tumbling down the cliff before a hand steadies him, and he turns around to see Albus Dumbledore standing before him, looking at him sadly. He looks down.
"What message does the Dark Lord have for me, Severus?" Dumbledore asks mildly.
Severus looks up, sees the coldness in his former headmaster's eyes, and sighs. "There is no message," he says, looking at his hands. "I've come here by myself."
He doesn't need to look up to know that Dumbledore is looking at him with justified scepticism. He looks up with effort, and forces out a single sentence, hoping that it would convey the discord that his life has become in the past two days.
"He killed Lily." He turns away from Dumbledore so that he is facing the cliff once more, trying to blink away the stinging in his eyes. Dumbledore gives a sympathetic hum which somehow only makes him feel worse. Severus doesn't remember the last time he had cried. It was probably when he was a little child, living with his dysfunctional family. He hadn't shed a single tear throughout his time in Hogwarts, nor after that when he joined the Death Eaters. Not even when Lily cut ties with him. Not even when he received the news of the Potters' death.
"What do you want?" Dumbledore asks plainly, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Severus closes his eyes, trying and failing to keep his tears from falling. They come down hot and heavy until he is all but sobbing, doubled up on himself, still trying to reign himself in. He absently notes Dumbledore conjuring a mat which he seats himself on, and a few minutes later he presses a bottle in his hand.
Dumbledore does not try to sooth him or shush him, not does he try to make him talk. He sits while Severus cries out all that he possibly can, sitting in silence the whole time, waiting.
Severus's head is hurting by the time he is able to lift his head back up again, but he grips tightly the bottle that he has in his hand, fumbles as he opens it and takes a long swig before even checking what it is. He had expected it to burn. He had expected it to be a firewhiskey. The liquid is sweet. He checks the label. Oak-matured mead.
"Right now is not the time to drown yourself and your sorrows in whiskey, son," Dumbledore says conversationally, not missing Severus' disappointment.
Severus takes another sip of the mead just so that he has something to do. "He told me he wouldn't do it," he says, looking upwards at the canopy of stars stretched over them. "He promised he wouldn't hurt Lily." He takes another sip, swallows too fast, and coughs. "I begged him not to," he continues when his cough has passed, "and yet…"
"Promises mean nothing to Tom Riddle," Dumbledore states, "nor any life that is not his own. You went to him seeking a favour, some goodwill. He has none to give out." He pauses, then continues, "Tom Riddle could never love the way you do. He'll never be able to understand it either. But he will do anything to destroy it."
Severus hums, not trusting himself to speak, and after that there is silence. The two men sit and stare at the brightly shining stars. For a moment, Severus fancies that Lily is up there in one of them, looking down at him. He raises up a single hand to reach for her, then, sighing, puts it back down.
He stands up, staggering a little bit, but steady for the most part. He looks at Dumbledore, still seated on the mat, looking at him. Severus wipes his face with his sleeve, composing himself.
"Revenge," he says. "I want revenge."