"Hail Mary, full of grace blessed are thou among women
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our deaths."
Chapter 3:Pray for us Sinners
Snape had to admire the beauty of the church. It was raining here and it covered the building in a veil of mystery. No wonder Muggles came here in times of trouble. The light, even the moon's, cast a gentle glow on the church's stained glass windows.
Beneath his mask, Snape smiled ruefully. If peace could be found on earth, perhaps it could be found here. Maybe that's why their were people who could devote their entire lives to the service of that Muggle he was staring at now. It was a male that looked beaten and dying; he was impaled to a cross. Such an odd scene to have in a place of peace, Snape thought he stood transfixed on the crucifix. He met the relic's eyes. The Muggle was wearing thorns on his brow and tiny droplets of blood formed beneath the crown, the eyes were clouded and deep but strangely those eyes were at peace.
Snape looked away suddenly. He hated the statue and raised his wand to destroy the Muggle deity but any curse died before they reached his lips. It was useless to curse the crucifix. The deity and its power, if it had any, were as untouchable and elusive as the peace he was seeking. Snape took one long last look at it before turning and fleeing, feeling suddenly very convicted and (although he scorned the idea) unworthy to be in the relic's presence. He felt foolish about avoiding the statue's gaze but something about it was fierce and terrifying. It made him feel uneasy. This uncertainty was swallowed in manufactured anger as Snape released his rage on the convent nuns. The Sires were enjoying tormenting the nuns and having their way with them before dealing any form of a death blow. Snape deplored rape but had no problem with torture. He lazily played with the Cruciatus Curse and other various forms of illusions. The nun he toyed with writhed under the pain, muttering prayers in English into Latin and back again form their pain-induced dementia.
That's right, Snape thought venomously, pray to a god for deliverance. Pray for a quick death! Pray to your idol of plaster and paint and see if he saves you! Pray against me!
Snape's thoughts weren't coherent, all at once he was attacking the Muggle woman who didn't even to deserve to live, her plaster deity who made him feel condemned, and third, an unnamed creature- a monster that needed to be destroyed. The creature destroyed and knew nothing else, it consumed humanity and balance and Snape swore to himself he'd destroy it or die trying.
"Pray to you god to save you." He sneered before muttering 'Crucio' again.
Snape felt something hit his arm and he spun around amused. He wasn't prepared for what was standing there. A boy was standing his ground defiantly, his hands gripping a makeshift club. He was short and surprisingly young. He could have only been about three years older then Alchemy. His frame was painfully thin, a result of growing up in this poor convent. Messy, long blond hair flowed over his shoulders and were swept away from his hazel eyes which were cold and determined. He was a fighter, Snape thought cooly, eyeing the boy and if he didn't have to kill him, Snape would have liked him.
The boy was foolish to face a man who towered over him in flowing robes and a mask. But his eyes were set in cold determination and he swung the club again.
Snape grabbed the club as it slammed into his palm. He jerked the club away from the boy and threw it down. The boy was alarmed but didn't flee, instead he took a dive for another weapon. It was a piece of glass, Snape discovered too late. The boy aimed and threw it like a javelin. Snape hissed as it tore his skin and he recoiled to protect his arm. The boy had ran to the woman and covered her from Snape.
A soft rapid, confused muttering came from them both. They were praying. The woman's eyes fluttered and closed. She died never saying anything but prayers. Snape had recovered and had turned back to the boy who was now praying alone.
"What are you doing?" Snape asked. "No god will save you, you will die as you lived- cowering alone and in filth. So pray if you must but nothing will save you from death."
"I am not praying for escape." The boy said softly. Snape met his eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes. "I am praying for you."
"Avada Kedavra." Snape whispered without thinking.
The boy crumbled noiselessly over the woman's body. It was cold and quiet now even with the rain pelting against the window pane. Severus walked to the couple and studied them with curiosity. The pain in his stomach groaned and flared up as he gaze into their eyes. They were calm and untroubled and Snape felt a pang of uncertainty rise up in his throat. It was looking at the elusive prize again and again Snape couldn't face it. Even death couldn't defeat it. Snape backed away as a wave of total fear swept over him.
He was shaking uncontrollably now. He disapparated in a vain attempt to flee. He clutched his robes, pulling and clawing at his shroud. He couldn't breath and this caused his instincts to panicked and betray him. He has apparated somewhere and had broken into a frantic, mad run. He had to escape because he couldn't fight it.
Finally cold air assaulted him face as he tore off his mask. He was back at the Coven's forest but he couldn't understand the sickness that had brought him here in his mad attempt to run from...what? He was running from the creature in the convent, from the monster he couldn't see or fight despite all his power.
Snape stopped in his tracks as the revelation struck him. His monster was his power. The sickness in his stomach, the emptiness, and his lofty position as Death Eater; his power where all wrapped into one tangible sin and it was so clear to him he would have laughed at it. What had chased him had been his change. That had been the monster. It had been a gradual and as careful as the setting sun. No one notices the dusk if they didn't make an effort to, they accepted it when it was complete and called it night.
It had grown in his stomach warm, protected and nourished on the lies Snape accepted and the deaths he caused. The change from man to monster, fell willed to automaton had not only been slow in coming but he had invited it! He, Severus Snape, had chose to become what he was: murderer, rapist, destroyer...Death Eater. The change had festered inside of him, coiled like a viper around his soul, eating and growing fat on his decaying humanity till all that was left was the perfect Death Eater, a creature too putrid for words, created in his master's image.
Self-contempt and revulsion welled up in his throat while his stomach churned. Snape fell to his knees, gripping his stomach and coughing violently to expel all the decay of his shallow life from himself.
After he had vomited, the pain in his stomach suddenly quelled but he felt empty inside and weary and still. A soft wind was blowing and it caressed his drenched face. He exhaled slowly allowing the cool wind to comfort him.
"Severus?"
He wanted for a moment to ignore the voice, to forget everything including his name and to just remain lethargic. He would just remain as still as he could and maybe he'd become nothing but a ghost, a shade of his former disgusting self.
"Severus, please?"
He lifted his head slightly straining to identify the voice. It was all at once gentle and firm. It called his name again and he could feel the fear lacing the words. He seemed he could only conjure up was fear. He laughed scornfully, it was what he was good at. It called again.
"I'm listening, Drucilla."
"I saw you apparate, Drucilla began. "Are you okay? I saw you running, you looked so scared."
He started to laugh again and Drucilla took a step back uneasily. He continued like a madman for a few moments, the laughter sweeping through like a banshee. Slowly, he rose wearily, kneeling laboriously as if each movement brought him pain. Drucilla searched his body for scar or wound but could see none, confused she met his tortured gaze as he turned to face her.
"Scared?" He asked in his smooth, silky deep voice. "What is there possibly to be afraid of when every time I look at my reflection I see the monster people pray against."
There was loathing in his voice that was unmistakable.
"Your reflection should be enough to be scared of then."
Drucilla saw Snape's mouth curl into a small, shallow smile. "Ah, I see." He mused.
"But then again, if there are fears perhaps they could be redress," She ventured. "Perhaps something could be changed..."
Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Drucilla could see his curiosity and brainwashing struggling against themselves. For a minute, she considered her options. Before her was Severus Snape, one of Voldemort's most trusted and faithful servants. He was one of Voldemort's own bodyguards and personal aide countless times. If he chose to, he could destroy Drucilla without so much as a second thought.
But he was also tortured right now. He was also once a teenaged boy called "Alchemy" who might have been quiet but was always loyal. He was always there when she needed him, even if she didn't want him to be. He was her friend. He was hurting. He was drowning in despair and it tore her apart... She wondered for a moment why but it came to her quickly. She loved him. She had for some time. Since before his and Melanie were married. That's why it tore her apart to see him like that.
"Turn your back on Voldemort!" She found herself stammering. "Let go of the lies and deceit he has told you!"
"Drucilla!" He said concerned and bewildered. He grabbed him and held her head to his chest protectively. "Stop! Don't say things like that...they'll hear you."
"Let them hear me! I don't care what they can do. Allow me help you out of darkness."
"What could you know of darkness like mine?" His voice was barely a whisper. "You don't understand what I have done or what I have sworn to upheld...any humanity I have left has been decayed and left hidden behind a mask."
"Only cowards wear masks."
He snorted like a defeated bull. "Perhaps your right." He was holding her tightly but for who's benefit was anyone's guess. He was gripping her shoulder for dear life. He looked so confused.
She grasped his hands and met his eyes. "Let me help you, Severus." She had to tell him. There wouldn't be another chance. "I love you."
"Why?"
"Because I can see the good in you struggling to get out."
He stepped away from her while keeping a firm grasp on her hand. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Let's review...." He said hoarsely, all his struggling had worn him out. "You want me to betray my master, the one I swore to die for. To turn my back on everything I believed to be true because...you see the good in me." His tired eyes dimmed even more. Then, they lit up softly. "Okay, I'll do it."
Drucilla felt relief flood her.
"On one condition."
"What?"
He turned steadily and determined. "I want Alchemy out." His voice was cold and unyielding, a starch contrast to his stance a few moments later. "I don't want her to become like me."
Drucilla's mind was already searching for options. "Alright. I know who to go to." She met his questioning face. "Dumbledore." A pained expression crossed his face. He knew he had hurt his former headmaster. "He is the one who told me to try and reach you. He said he knew in his heart you were good." She paused, then added, "Whatever happens, don't let go of my hand..."
Snape almost smiled. His gripped tightened and he nodded like a child took to wait and let someone bigger and wiser take care of the situation. But he was relieved to have at least guidance on this journey. "Be careful." He whispered.
"I will be. Just don't let go."
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour of our deaths."
Chapter 3:Pray for us Sinners
Snape had to admire the beauty of the church. It was raining here and it covered the building in a veil of mystery. No wonder Muggles came here in times of trouble. The light, even the moon's, cast a gentle glow on the church's stained glass windows.
Beneath his mask, Snape smiled ruefully. If peace could be found on earth, perhaps it could be found here. Maybe that's why their were people who could devote their entire lives to the service of that Muggle he was staring at now. It was a male that looked beaten and dying; he was impaled to a cross. Such an odd scene to have in a place of peace, Snape thought he stood transfixed on the crucifix. He met the relic's eyes. The Muggle was wearing thorns on his brow and tiny droplets of blood formed beneath the crown, the eyes were clouded and deep but strangely those eyes were at peace.
Snape looked away suddenly. He hated the statue and raised his wand to destroy the Muggle deity but any curse died before they reached his lips. It was useless to curse the crucifix. The deity and its power, if it had any, were as untouchable and elusive as the peace he was seeking. Snape took one long last look at it before turning and fleeing, feeling suddenly very convicted and (although he scorned the idea) unworthy to be in the relic's presence. He felt foolish about avoiding the statue's gaze but something about it was fierce and terrifying. It made him feel uneasy. This uncertainty was swallowed in manufactured anger as Snape released his rage on the convent nuns. The Sires were enjoying tormenting the nuns and having their way with them before dealing any form of a death blow. Snape deplored rape but had no problem with torture. He lazily played with the Cruciatus Curse and other various forms of illusions. The nun he toyed with writhed under the pain, muttering prayers in English into Latin and back again form their pain-induced dementia.
That's right, Snape thought venomously, pray to a god for deliverance. Pray for a quick death! Pray to your idol of plaster and paint and see if he saves you! Pray against me!
Snape's thoughts weren't coherent, all at once he was attacking the Muggle woman who didn't even to deserve to live, her plaster deity who made him feel condemned, and third, an unnamed creature- a monster that needed to be destroyed. The creature destroyed and knew nothing else, it consumed humanity and balance and Snape swore to himself he'd destroy it or die trying.
"Pray to you god to save you." He sneered before muttering 'Crucio' again.
Snape felt something hit his arm and he spun around amused. He wasn't prepared for what was standing there. A boy was standing his ground defiantly, his hands gripping a makeshift club. He was short and surprisingly young. He could have only been about three years older then Alchemy. His frame was painfully thin, a result of growing up in this poor convent. Messy, long blond hair flowed over his shoulders and were swept away from his hazel eyes which were cold and determined. He was a fighter, Snape thought cooly, eyeing the boy and if he didn't have to kill him, Snape would have liked him.
The boy was foolish to face a man who towered over him in flowing robes and a mask. But his eyes were set in cold determination and he swung the club again.
Snape grabbed the club as it slammed into his palm. He jerked the club away from the boy and threw it down. The boy was alarmed but didn't flee, instead he took a dive for another weapon. It was a piece of glass, Snape discovered too late. The boy aimed and threw it like a javelin. Snape hissed as it tore his skin and he recoiled to protect his arm. The boy had ran to the woman and covered her from Snape.
A soft rapid, confused muttering came from them both. They were praying. The woman's eyes fluttered and closed. She died never saying anything but prayers. Snape had recovered and had turned back to the boy who was now praying alone.
"What are you doing?" Snape asked. "No god will save you, you will die as you lived- cowering alone and in filth. So pray if you must but nothing will save you from death."
"I am not praying for escape." The boy said softly. Snape met his eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes. "I am praying for you."
"Avada Kedavra." Snape whispered without thinking.
The boy crumbled noiselessly over the woman's body. It was cold and quiet now even with the rain pelting against the window pane. Severus walked to the couple and studied them with curiosity. The pain in his stomach groaned and flared up as he gaze into their eyes. They were calm and untroubled and Snape felt a pang of uncertainty rise up in his throat. It was looking at the elusive prize again and again Snape couldn't face it. Even death couldn't defeat it. Snape backed away as a wave of total fear swept over him.
He was shaking uncontrollably now. He disapparated in a vain attempt to flee. He clutched his robes, pulling and clawing at his shroud. He couldn't breath and this caused his instincts to panicked and betray him. He has apparated somewhere and had broken into a frantic, mad run. He had to escape because he couldn't fight it.
Finally cold air assaulted him face as he tore off his mask. He was back at the Coven's forest but he couldn't understand the sickness that had brought him here in his mad attempt to run from...what? He was running from the creature in the convent, from the monster he couldn't see or fight despite all his power.
Snape stopped in his tracks as the revelation struck him. His monster was his power. The sickness in his stomach, the emptiness, and his lofty position as Death Eater; his power where all wrapped into one tangible sin and it was so clear to him he would have laughed at it. What had chased him had been his change. That had been the monster. It had been a gradual and as careful as the setting sun. No one notices the dusk if they didn't make an effort to, they accepted it when it was complete and called it night.
It had grown in his stomach warm, protected and nourished on the lies Snape accepted and the deaths he caused. The change from man to monster, fell willed to automaton had not only been slow in coming but he had invited it! He, Severus Snape, had chose to become what he was: murderer, rapist, destroyer...Death Eater. The change had festered inside of him, coiled like a viper around his soul, eating and growing fat on his decaying humanity till all that was left was the perfect Death Eater, a creature too putrid for words, created in his master's image.
Self-contempt and revulsion welled up in his throat while his stomach churned. Snape fell to his knees, gripping his stomach and coughing violently to expel all the decay of his shallow life from himself.
After he had vomited, the pain in his stomach suddenly quelled but he felt empty inside and weary and still. A soft wind was blowing and it caressed his drenched face. He exhaled slowly allowing the cool wind to comfort him.
"Severus?"
He wanted for a moment to ignore the voice, to forget everything including his name and to just remain lethargic. He would just remain as still as he could and maybe he'd become nothing but a ghost, a shade of his former disgusting self.
"Severus, please?"
He lifted his head slightly straining to identify the voice. It was all at once gentle and firm. It called his name again and he could feel the fear lacing the words. He seemed he could only conjure up was fear. He laughed scornfully, it was what he was good at. It called again.
"I'm listening, Drucilla."
"I saw you apparate, Drucilla began. "Are you okay? I saw you running, you looked so scared."
He started to laugh again and Drucilla took a step back uneasily. He continued like a madman for a few moments, the laughter sweeping through like a banshee. Slowly, he rose wearily, kneeling laboriously as if each movement brought him pain. Drucilla searched his body for scar or wound but could see none, confused she met his tortured gaze as he turned to face her.
"Scared?" He asked in his smooth, silky deep voice. "What is there possibly to be afraid of when every time I look at my reflection I see the monster people pray against."
There was loathing in his voice that was unmistakable.
"Your reflection should be enough to be scared of then."
Drucilla saw Snape's mouth curl into a small, shallow smile. "Ah, I see." He mused.
"But then again, if there are fears perhaps they could be redress," She ventured. "Perhaps something could be changed..."
Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Drucilla could see his curiosity and brainwashing struggling against themselves. For a minute, she considered her options. Before her was Severus Snape, one of Voldemort's most trusted and faithful servants. He was one of Voldemort's own bodyguards and personal aide countless times. If he chose to, he could destroy Drucilla without so much as a second thought.
But he was also tortured right now. He was also once a teenaged boy called "Alchemy" who might have been quiet but was always loyal. He was always there when she needed him, even if she didn't want him to be. He was her friend. He was hurting. He was drowning in despair and it tore her apart... She wondered for a moment why but it came to her quickly. She loved him. She had for some time. Since before his and Melanie were married. That's why it tore her apart to see him like that.
"Turn your back on Voldemort!" She found herself stammering. "Let go of the lies and deceit he has told you!"
"Drucilla!" He said concerned and bewildered. He grabbed him and held her head to his chest protectively. "Stop! Don't say things like that...they'll hear you."
"Let them hear me! I don't care what they can do. Allow me help you out of darkness."
"What could you know of darkness like mine?" His voice was barely a whisper. "You don't understand what I have done or what I have sworn to upheld...any humanity I have left has been decayed and left hidden behind a mask."
"Only cowards wear masks."
He snorted like a defeated bull. "Perhaps your right." He was holding her tightly but for who's benefit was anyone's guess. He was gripping her shoulder for dear life. He looked so confused.
She grasped his hands and met his eyes. "Let me help you, Severus." She had to tell him. There wouldn't be another chance. "I love you."
"Why?"
"Because I can see the good in you struggling to get out."
He stepped away from her while keeping a firm grasp on her hand. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Let's review...." He said hoarsely, all his struggling had worn him out. "You want me to betray my master, the one I swore to die for. To turn my back on everything I believed to be true because...you see the good in me." His tired eyes dimmed even more. Then, they lit up softly. "Okay, I'll do it."
Drucilla felt relief flood her.
"On one condition."
"What?"
He turned steadily and determined. "I want Alchemy out." His voice was cold and unyielding, a starch contrast to his stance a few moments later. "I don't want her to become like me."
Drucilla's mind was already searching for options. "Alright. I know who to go to." She met his questioning face. "Dumbledore." A pained expression crossed his face. He knew he had hurt his former headmaster. "He is the one who told me to try and reach you. He said he knew in his heart you were good." She paused, then added, "Whatever happens, don't let go of my hand..."
Snape almost smiled. His gripped tightened and he nodded like a child took to wait and let someone bigger and wiser take care of the situation. But he was relieved to have at least guidance on this journey. "Be careful." He whispered.
"I will be. Just don't let go."