Many thanks to JKR for the characters, and to those who had provided much inspiration for this story.
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With steady hands, Snape poured an oddly glowing liquid into a heavy glass vial. It was his newest assignment, ingredients for some vile amusement of Lucius Malfoy's. A pity he wouldn't force-feed it to his brainless son. Task completed, Snape locked the vial carefully and securely into a box. He would deliver it tonight, when the Dark Lord summoned.
Snape raked his hair back and stared grimly at the desk, unseeing. It was lucky for him, that Voldemort had not discovered his own treachery but the less serious breach by another Death Eater. Corinne Lavalois would be punished and most likely killed tonight, though Snape didn't doubt Voldemort might have more excruciating plans for her.
For a while at least, he needed to think about something else.
Unbidden, the image of Hana Hooch appeared. That woman. Why did she bother him so much? As a student at Hogwarts, he had indulged in a secret passion for Quidditch and followed the professional scene avidly. Hooch had been the Quidditch star of the time, one of the fastest and most fearless seekers ever to play. Everyone is Hogwarts had a poster of her, a team shirt, animated figurines or some such trinket.
From a high shelf, he pulled down an old album of wizard photographs. He kept precious few around, and mostly out of sight. Past a few pictures of his childhood and a few scattered papers, there was a photo taken at the Quidditch World Cup game just before his fourth year. Italy versus Moravia, billed as the match of the century and one of the most violent games on record.
Young Hana Hooch grinned wildly up at him, waving a fist with the golden snitch trapped inside. Her hair was short, dark brown and ruffled. She was a youthful 27 in this picture, only a few years away from her retirement. The eyes were exactly the same though. Snape spread his hands on the page, framing her face. It had shocked him to find her at Hogwarts when he arrived to teach Potions. That smile still teased the corners of her mouth, in an older face with graying hair. For one brief instant he imagined himself ten years older, and then ten years younger before he shook her hand.
Dreams, all swept away. Snape put away the album. Best not to dwell on such thoughts. There was much work to be done tonight.
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Once inside his room, Snape stripped off his robes, forcing himself to unbutton by hand every single article of clothing instead of whisking them off by wand. He set his jaw hard against the blood that streaked him, reddish brown on the green velvet. Much as he wanted to incinerate the garments, it might seem a trifle odd, and he was rather fond of these dress robes. Instead he tossed them into the floor, for later when he calmed.
For now, he needed to clean himself. Naked he strode into the bathroom to run a shower. Watching the water steam and run down the dark marble tub, his rage finally let loose.
"Damn," Snape hissed and slapped his hand into the wall. Scraped his knuckles repeatedly, an old bad habit, and old trick from before he learned how to control himself. Only rarely did he allow himself this. The rough stone tore the flesh of his knuckles. At least this time it was his own blood running down his arm.
He scrubbed until his skin burned, until all Corinne's blood was gone, even from his hair. Damn Malfoy for being so grandiose about it, he snarled silently. Flinging blood all over the place like holy water in a church. His affected fastidiousness saved him often, but not tonight. Voldemort had offered, demanded, that the others participate in Lavalois's punishment. Exhausted, Snape sat heavily under the spray.
Her crime? Exposure, a botched assignment, plans gone awry. Far lesser sins than any he held on his own soul, but enough to incur dreadful wrath. Voldemort had particularly wanted Hermione Granger's parents dead. Lavalois should have been able to execute the task without any trouble. She had whined in a pathetic pleading way, though she had to know it would do no good. Or perhaps she didn't.
Corinne expected the curse from Voldemort, expected the punishments, the castigation. She didn't expect to be given over to Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters. The sheer horror in her face had brought a terrible, sad smile to Snape's face. It was his fault after all.
After a little time, Voldemort had left them, sure that it would be finished to his liking. Malfoy's ministrations slowly became cruder, and Corinne's hoarse voice echoed like a ghost around them. Snape had cradled her head in the last minutes, watching her gray eyes bleed and her broken mouth move helplessly, soundlessly. He could not summon much pity for Corinne Lavalois, a woman who killed children before their parents for so many years. Yet, still...
Snape had betrayed Corinne. Arranged for her information to be wrong, and for Hermione's parents to be safely away. He held no particular affection for the Muggle girl and her family, but Dumbledore had been adamant. Never had he asked Snape to put himself so directly in danger by intervening in Voldemort's plans, but this involved one of Harry Potter's closest friends. Above all, Harry Potter and his friends must be protected, he said. They had argued for an hour at least, pacing the study until Snape had thrown his hands up in defeat. He could see the logic, he admitted. He could not admit that his heart felt the same way.