Chapter 19 - It All Runs Full Circle


It All Runs Full Circle

The corridors were always so loud during the week, as was the common room, that the early mornings and late nights were Sev's favourite time of day. He had never been a good sleeper, and this new world had not done anything to change that.

Scorpius and Albus kept trying to get up early enough to run with him, but ultimately they were lucky to be awake by the time he came back from running.

The sun had only just come up, and he had already showered from his run and started changing. The other two were laying on their beds.

"You do realize that I can hear you whispering?" he said to Scorpius and Albus as he buttoned up his shirt. He raised an eyebrow at them. I am cursed to feel odd no matter what world I'm in…

Albus pointed in the general area of his own torso and ineloquently said, "You, erm, have scars."

It took more control not to roll his eyes in that moment than it did to get through an entire day in his own world. I need to stop thinking of it as my world. It's not anymore, of course…

"Some," he replied. "Some magical wounds leave scars no matter what you do. And you two need to remember that your eyes don't see everything." He tucked in his shirt tails and found the hole on his belt.

"What?" Scorpius asked, his brow furrowing.

"We're wizards. There's this thing called magic. Your eyes don't see everything. I've covered them before. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or answer what scar is what." He gave them a look, pulling his tie over his head, "Please don't ask. I still don't, really."

The two exchanged glances.

"And why are you putting all that on? It's Saturday," Albus said.

"Because I have detention with Professor Slughorn in a few hours. I can't show up in my hoodie and trackies, all sweaty…"

"You're weird, Sev."

"And how many times have you liked it when people have called you weird, Potter?" he said. "Do you imagine I like it any more than you do? Just because I don't show it, doesn't mean I don't mind. At the very least, I have a reason for my oddities, I am from another world. I wonder, whatever is your excuse?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, before pulling on his jumper.

Albus stared at him for a long moment. Maybe nobody had ever said something like that to him.

Sev settled his wand up his sleeve.

"Sorry. I don't mean it bad, really," Albus replied, quietly. "I mean, that detention is because of me and all. It's just…" He shrugged. "I don't know how else to tell you when you do things strange for here."

"Yeah, mate," Scorpius said. "I doubt Old Sluggie minds if you're dressed to the nines. I get not showing up all sweaty, but why bother so so much?"

"Trust me, most of the time, I already know, Al." As for Scorpius, Sev replied, "I mind. Professor Slughorn has been kind to me. He's old. Really old. It's disrespectful not to take him or a punishment seriously, though I don't expect you both to understand. What makes you think my way is wrong and yours is right just because mine is statistically odd here?"

And they both looked at him as if he was statistically odd.

He sighed.

"You're like the best person from that world, Sev, you know that?" Scorpius said, finally.

Albus had been nonexistent for that time, so he had no comment other than nodding along with Scorpius to nod along with Scorpius.

"You are lucky you only know me from here, Scorpius, because if you had lived more than a few days in that world, if you knew some of the things I've done, you would probably not think that." Or maybe Sev just did not want to think of it that way. Maybe thinking of it that way minimized some of the things he had to do there, but he did not want to minimize them. They did not deserve to be minimized.

He remembered every single person whose life he'd watched extinguished and that he'd extinguished himself.

They could never understand his reasons for being as he was nor his reasons for doing things the way that he did.

"I think I'd like you no matter what, Sev," Scorpius said. "In that world I was a psychopathic murderous teen cult leader, but I'm a good person, I think. You weren't like the Scorpion King, but that was me, somewhere somehow, me."

"Yes, but you didn't do those things, Scorpius. Another version of you did, with an entirely different life. I am one version of me in both places."

"But I think I did, in a weird way. Something in time changed, and that changed me, but I was me, I just didn't remember that life. There was no evil Scorpius running around simultaneously while I was there. It was me."

Albus blinked, "That's really…wow, Scorpius…I don't even think I get that, but I get it."

Sev did not say anything right away, choosing to whirl that around in his head while he sat down on his bed and tied his shoes.

"That is a strange observation, actually, Scorpion King," Sev said, with little smirk. "I'm glad you've left him behind."

The other two laughed appreciatively.

"Me too!" Scorpius said.

"Anyway, maybe I'll see you lot for lunch," he said, picking up his bag.

"Where are you going now? It's, like, 8?" Albus asked, yawning.

"I'm going to go make a muscle salve before my detention."

Albus laughed again.

Scorpius supplied for the both of them, "You're going to detention two hours early?!"

Sev laughed, "No, the muscle salve is for me. It only takes about an hour to make, and I'm almost out. Professor Slughorn is not precisely an early riser on the weekend. I'll be alone."

And Sev now knew how to get in everywhere since the ancient Potions master had made the deal with him to manage the stock and do some brewing in exchange for his running and freedoms.

They stifled some chuckles.

"I know, you lot think I should still be sleeping." He rolled his eyes, "Sleeping is not the restful, glamorous, most desirous activity to me."

He might have left off the spells that hid his scars, because at some point someone was going to know and see, but he would never forget to make sure they could not hear him if he had a nightmare.


When Professor Slughorn finally wandered down to the dungeons about a half an hour before he had set the detention, he smelled the familiar wafting of something brewing. That might have been alarming for a Saturday once upon a time, but he was now used to the young Snape being in the classroom at all sorts of hours. He was absolutely as fastidious as his father, and Horace found no reason to worry about it.

"Good morning, Severus," he said. The boy was cleaning something up. Something thick, minty, and resinous - in a less than piney way – which now resided in squat jars.

"Good morning, sir." He looked up. "I put a jar of this on your desk. It's a muscle salve, but it works equally well for any kind of pain or stiffness."

It was very difficult to feel cross with the boy in the least. Rules were rules and all, but Horace was known for his soft spots and this boy wasn't even playing his soft spots. It was just the way little Snape was wired. Thus, he could not resist the typical old man praise of, "You're a good boy."

Which garnered a little smile as Severus finished cleaning up his work and then put his jars in his bag.

"What would you like me to do for my detention, Professor?" the boy then asked, without a hint of typical trepidation.

"Come over. Let's talk for a minute, Sev." He did not bother to ask the boy to sit, because he'd already learned that did not put him at any ease.

He continued when the boy came to stand by his desk, "You see, you are something of a unique case, my boy. I think you like the vast majority of things I would have most students do…"

Sev nodded, "Probably true, sir." Certainly nothing to do with Potions or ingredients would bother him, and nor did cleaning said things either. Not to mention, he already did that.

"I'm not quite sure what you would dislike enough to impress upon you not to do spells in the corridors, because I do understand your point, but the headmistress' point is that not everyone can be trusted with that same judgment or responsibility. If you do spells in the corridors for your friends, which I'm happy you both have friends and want to stand up for them, then it encourages others to do the same. Next thing we have spells going every which direction. I am sure you can understand that your fellow students are very irresponsible by comparison. Yes?"

"Yes, sir. I understand that. And I understand now why that is a rule, too, sir."

The professor smiled and said, "But it is a rule you would break again?"

Severus did not have any problem answering honestly, "Yes, sir. But I understand that I'll get no special treatment and detentions for it to deter others from doing the same."

"Well, it is my hope then, that you'll at least think twice before doing it whenever you wish just because there aren't any Cruciatus Curses waiting at the end of it," he replied.

An old Slytherin could understand Sev far better than the others.

"I would think twice simply because I do not wish to inconvenience you and create more work for you, sir."

And, again, it was very difficult to feel cross with the boy. It made him feel a layer of guilt in the back of his mind about things far past, but he'd accepted a layer of maudlin in his older life.

"Be that as it may, another level of pause will hopefully do some good. This world is nowhere near as chaotic or dangerous as your old one."

Thankfully, Professor Slughorn was not asking him to never do it again, because he surely could not have promised that.

"Yes, sir," he replied, raising an eyebrow in anticipation of his sentencing.

Having achieved great success with a handful of Slytherins and Ravenclaws with overactive brains using the method over the years, Professor Slughorn said, "You're going to spend your detentions looking at the wall."

Sev suddenly could not breathe, like he had been knocked right in the chest, in that place where all the nerves for your breathing met.

It was an uncommon sensation for him.

As was the sensation of burning in the back of his nose and twinges in his throat and pressure behind his eyes.

"Severus?" Whatever he had said to the boy had a profound impact, surprisingly so.

"Yes, sir," he said, not with dejection, but with something else more difficult, as he moved to do what he was told.

Horace reached a hand out and took hold of the boy's wrist gently, "Are you all right, Severus?"

"Yes, sir. I'm fine." But he was not fine, but it made little difference. Punishments were not supposed to be fun.

"You're sure?" He was not sure he had ever seen that much emotion from the boy, even mostly stuffed away.

"I'm sure, sir." Then Sev pointed at the nearest wall, "Here, sir, or…?"

Feeling as if he had just done something unconscionably cruel, although he had no idea why, Professor Slughorn nodded, "Yes, yes, that's fine, my boy."

And after the first half an hour, old Horace Slughorn was sure he nearly felt as punished as the punishee. The boy had not moved nor made much a sound, which was why in some of the isolated pauses of his writing he could hear just the barest of a stifled sniff. He was fairly certain Severus did not have a cold or allergies.

There would have been a cold remedy and a muscle salve if that had been the case.

Professor Slughorn had very little idea that this was the favoured way that his father had made him spend his detentions because he hated it beyond measure.

And now Sev hated it even more for more profound reasons. As he stood there trying to be unaffected, his mind was replaying a lot of memories that were now painful, not in a physical sense, but in a sense he had little experience with at all from his old world.

He could ignore that he was living something of his worst nightmare most of the time, because there were good things about this world; but it did not change the fact that he had been prepared for every torturous, painful eventuality than surviving alone. That – this - was never supposed to happen, and now and again it came back to him in a way that made him feel epically weak.

Here he was in this somewhat benevolent world, and he could not even control himself here.

And even as his mind tried to zero on that thought, on some logic and focus, the piece of him that really, really missed his dad was screaming and stabbing at him in a way that hurt far more than any Dark Arts class he had ever suffered through.

And that was real and this was all just his emotions, barreling out of control inside, even if encased within a well-trained, solid exterior.

But that solid exterior was not going to save him from much in this world. And without the lifelong necessity of avoiding the most horrid death imaginable for not just himself, but his whole family, that well of strength felt like it was collapsing on him while he fought mercilessly not to let it.

When Professor Slughorn finally dismissed him at noon, he did not really hear the repeated question if he was okay, nor his response that he was.

He did not process the sentiment of "wish you would tell me what's wrong because something clearly is."

His mouth gave some polite responses, of which he was mostly unaware, and he exited the room without his bag.

As grey eyes lighted on Scorpius and Albus waiting for him, something inside just flipped.

He pushed between them and ran. He ran as fast as he could.

Some prefect yelled after him, "Stop running, Snape, you're going to knock out a firstie!"

Professor Slughorn heard it and toddled out of the classroom as quickly as his old, squat legs would allow.

Scorpius and Albus looked at him and then at each other, clearly not knowing what to do or what had happened.

"Sir….." Scorpius' question rather hung in the air without being said. Absolutely everyone involved had already realized Sev did not find detention horrible at all, and now he had just run out of one.

Run. Without a word. Albus was still rubbing his elbow where it had knocked the stone wall.

"What kind of a detention did you give him, sir?" Albus asked, wide-eyed.


Sev did not break stride even as he took steps two at a time, wove between gaggles of girls, and heard two more prefects and one professor yelling at him about running and points.

He broke into a further sprint a soon as his feet hit the grass and expanse of the grounds, and before he knew it his legs took him down the same path he had run that night.

The same burn went up his legs as he pushed and pushed harder, taking his wand out of his sleeve. There may as well have been Dementors chasing him.

Only when he reached that spot that was always going to be empty now, did he not cast a Patronus as he had previously, but hacked up some quick warding and a disillusionment to conceal himself before he collapsed on the ground, chest heaving, gasping for air, until he threw up nothing but acrid bile with tears streaming down his face. Gripping the grass for dear life.


AN - We all know Snape Sr. did not pick up any parenting tips or skills from his own parents, so at least a few of his tactics had to come from somewhere. One of those former Slytherins it worked for was clearly Sev's father, and if you paid close attention Snape Sr. has pointed out in the FBs how easy it is to discipline his son because they have he same dislikes as schoolboys.

Duj - Poor Slughorn just tortured him nearly as badly and he has absolutely no idea how or why, and I don't think Sev's gonna willingly tell anyone why anytime soon. He doesn't want to admit how much he misses his dad.

J & Guest1 - Hope you enjoyed the latest chapters!

I hope everyone else is keeping positive and staying away from all the nasties going around! I'm trying to provide reading entertainment to keep people's minds off it. Drop me a note to keep me going - I can see lots of you are reading along :D