This chapter is for Gedia because she a little ... *cough* upset at Voldemort. :) Also because I couldn't get online tonight to talk to her, (Sorry!) so this is my apology.
* * * *
Snape drifted along the ground, his chin resting gently on his chest and his hands limp at his sides. He followed Voldemort's wand without a fight, coming quietly and peacefully in his unconscious state. His exterior looked perfectly content, his dark eyes closed and his face, for once, not marred by a horrible sneer. But on the inside, all he could see were the briefest flashes of memories circling his mind until they became one memory. One simple and frightening memory of his past . . .
. . . He stood in the bedroom, staring down at the place she had fallen. His bedroom, his childhood home where he had felt safe . . . where he had belonged. Now all that was left was the empty house and the brown stain on the floor where his mother had died. The floor of his bedroom was stained with her blood, a mark that would never come out, no matter how much he scrubbed it.
Instead, Severus Snape stood over the mark and remembered the night he had stuck a dagger into his mother's heart. He remembered the times she had smiled at him, the times she had consoled him after coming home from another miserable year at Hogwarts. She had done everything for him and in turn he had killed her. His guilt was overwhelming, but his common sense fought back against it. If he hadn't killed her, Voldemort would have and that would have been a far more painful death that the one Snape had offered her.
He had spared her from being witness to a bloody battle. She never had to see her son at work as a Death Eater and for that reason, Snape was almost glad he had killed her. But now his house was empty, a testament to his life and what he had done with it. What was once full of happiness was now cold and dead, leaving him without a single person in the world to confide in.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," a sarcastic and bitter voice murmured inside his head. "Didn't you think it would be so much better than this Severus? Didn't you think Voldemort would lead you to the top?"
Snape shook his head. "Be quiet, father."
"Don't speak to me in that tone, Severus. I am your father after all, and you will listen to every word I have to say."
"You're dead," Snape murmured.
"Yes, I am, but did that stop your mother from haunting your memories? Hardly, so why should that stop me from haunting your mind?"
Snape closed his eyes against the voice. "You're not real, you're my guilty conscience adopting the voice of a loved one."
His father laughed inside his head. "I am hardly a conscience Severus, let alone a guilty one."
"Then what are you?"
"Your reminder of everything you sacrificed to follow your Dark Lord . . . the reminder of your family, the family you killed."
"You died of natural causes," Snape said fiercely. "I did not kill you."
Another laugh rattled his brain. "You're correct, Severus. You did not kill me, but your mother was all the family you had left and you did away with her so simply. Like she was nothing more than an annoying thorn in your side."
"Stop using those Muggle terms."
"Why? I am a Muggle after all, God forbid."
"I didn't mean," Snape began pitifully.
"What did you mean?" his father hissed, cutting him off. "Did you mean to kill your mother? Did you mean to leave her rotting body on your bedroom floor? Did you mean to destroy her before she died?"
"No!" Snape roared, slamming his hands over his ears. "I don't want to hear this anymore, I can't listen to you, can't take your voice inside my head."
"Then why don't you kill me too?"
"I'm sorry," the words escaped Snape's lips before he had a chance to realize what he was about to say.
"It's too late for apologies . . . what's done is done and you will never be able to take it back. You'll never earn the forgiveness that others think you may deserve. You'll never have another chance to prove yourself. You're finished Severus and, for the first time, I'm glad I didn't get to see you grow up."
The voice was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Snape shaking and scared. He dropped to his knees on the dirty bedroom floor, his fingers finding the stain and reaching toward it.
The ground was warm and sticky, the blood from so many years ago not yet dried. Snape stared at it in amazement as his hands were lost in the bloody mess, the warm, red liquid creeping over his fingers, staining his nails and the creases on the back of his hands. The dagger was suddenly in his fingers and a moment later, the fallen body of his mother lay on the floor.
Snape recoiled, drawing his hands back toward him. The dagger nicked the inside of one wrist and he stared as his own blood dripped onto the floor, mingling with the spilled blood of his mother.
"Severus," she murmured, her voice muted with the wetness rising in her throat.
"No," he whispered, forcing himself to look away. He scrambled backward, feeling more out of control than he had felt in years. His back hit the wall and still he tried to move, his hands and feet scraping uselessly at the floor. Finally, he stopped moving and stared back at his mother's dying form.
"Severus," she whispered again and the hand that was trying to stop her wound from bleeding reached out to him. Red and stained, she tried to grasp his ankle in her hand.
"No," he repeated, pulling his feet out of her reach. His eyes squeezed shut as he was forced to listen to his mother dying, the same woman he had murdered and left alone less than twenty years ago.
Her breathing grew ragged and harsh, rasping through her drowning lungs. She emitted a high pitched keening sound and reached for him again, reached past him to the doorway. She dragged herself a few feet, then stopped, her head slumping lifelessly to the ground. Her breathing slowed, then stopped altogether.
Snape opened his eyes carefully and all that was left was the brown stain. He had imagined everything, his guilty mind had forced him to relive his mother's death, the death that he had caused and then fled from.
"I'm sorry," he murmured once more, then drew his shaking hands into his lap.
They were still stained with her blood . . .
* * * *
Kendra reached out for Harry's arm and caught it tightly in her hand. Her eyes glazed over a second later and a pained expression crossed her face. The Five stopped to watch as she struggled with whatever she was seeing. They had begun the walk back toward the Inn they'd been staying in, they had no where else to go as they tried to decide what they would do.
"Snape's house," she murmured a moment later. "That's where they'll be."
"Where's that?" Ron asked.
Kendra pointed to the north. "Not far from here, an hour away maybe."
"We know where we're going," Hermione said, "but not what we're going to do once we get there."
"You know we can't give him the pearl," Parvati said softly. "That's like giving up completely. Handing the world over to him to destroy."
Kendra nodded. "I know that, but we can't leave Snape to die either. It's just not right."
Harry sighed. "He really didn't give us much choice, did he?"
"Don't say that, it's like telling me that we have to let Snape die to save the world," Kendra said.
"That might be what we have to do," Hermione murmured gently. "We can't let Voldemort win to save one life because . . . he'll wipe out everyone and it won't matter in the end because Snape will still be dead. And so will we."
"There has to be another way," Kendra said.
Hermione shook her head. "I really don't think there is."
"We'll think of something," Kendra insisted, then began to lead them in the direction of Snape's childhood home.
"How do you think she'll react if Snape really does die?" Ron asked, catching Harry's arm and falling behind the group.
Harry stared at Kendra sadly, then looked at Ron. "I think she might go out of her mind."
"He really might die," Ron murmured.
Harry nodded. "I know."
"You really think it'll drive her insane?"
"She'll be heartbroken."
Ron frowned. "Why?"
Harry paused, then shrugged. "I don't know exactly. Through all this mess and her parents' death, he's been the only authority figure around. Maybe she's become attached to him in that sense . . . or maybe it's just because of their connection. She can hear his thoughts Ron, that's a pretty personal experience. She looks up to him, despite everything he's done to her."
Ron stared at the dark haired girl leading the group. "I just hope she can put her hand on that necklace when it comes down to the world or Snape."
"She might care for him, but she knows the right thing to do," Harry said.
Ron sighed. "I certainly hope you know what you're talking about. Because if she balks when it's time to finish this . . ." he trailed off.
"She won't," Harry said ardently. "I promise, Ron, she won't."
* * * *
* * * *
Snape drifted along the ground, his chin resting gently on his chest and his hands limp at his sides. He followed Voldemort's wand without a fight, coming quietly and peacefully in his unconscious state. His exterior looked perfectly content, his dark eyes closed and his face, for once, not marred by a horrible sneer. But on the inside, all he could see were the briefest flashes of memories circling his mind until they became one memory. One simple and frightening memory of his past . . .
. . . He stood in the bedroom, staring down at the place she had fallen. His bedroom, his childhood home where he had felt safe . . . where he had belonged. Now all that was left was the empty house and the brown stain on the floor where his mother had died. The floor of his bedroom was stained with her blood, a mark that would never come out, no matter how much he scrubbed it.
Instead, Severus Snape stood over the mark and remembered the night he had stuck a dagger into his mother's heart. He remembered the times she had smiled at him, the times she had consoled him after coming home from another miserable year at Hogwarts. She had done everything for him and in turn he had killed her. His guilt was overwhelming, but his common sense fought back against it. If he hadn't killed her, Voldemort would have and that would have been a far more painful death that the one Snape had offered her.
He had spared her from being witness to a bloody battle. She never had to see her son at work as a Death Eater and for that reason, Snape was almost glad he had killed her. But now his house was empty, a testament to his life and what he had done with it. What was once full of happiness was now cold and dead, leaving him without a single person in the world to confide in.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," a sarcastic and bitter voice murmured inside his head. "Didn't you think it would be so much better than this Severus? Didn't you think Voldemort would lead you to the top?"
Snape shook his head. "Be quiet, father."
"Don't speak to me in that tone, Severus. I am your father after all, and you will listen to every word I have to say."
"You're dead," Snape murmured.
"Yes, I am, but did that stop your mother from haunting your memories? Hardly, so why should that stop me from haunting your mind?"
Snape closed his eyes against the voice. "You're not real, you're my guilty conscience adopting the voice of a loved one."
His father laughed inside his head. "I am hardly a conscience Severus, let alone a guilty one."
"Then what are you?"
"Your reminder of everything you sacrificed to follow your Dark Lord . . . the reminder of your family, the family you killed."
"You died of natural causes," Snape said fiercely. "I did not kill you."
Another laugh rattled his brain. "You're correct, Severus. You did not kill me, but your mother was all the family you had left and you did away with her so simply. Like she was nothing more than an annoying thorn in your side."
"Stop using those Muggle terms."
"Why? I am a Muggle after all, God forbid."
"I didn't mean," Snape began pitifully.
"What did you mean?" his father hissed, cutting him off. "Did you mean to kill your mother? Did you mean to leave her rotting body on your bedroom floor? Did you mean to destroy her before she died?"
"No!" Snape roared, slamming his hands over his ears. "I don't want to hear this anymore, I can't listen to you, can't take your voice inside my head."
"Then why don't you kill me too?"
"I'm sorry," the words escaped Snape's lips before he had a chance to realize what he was about to say.
"It's too late for apologies . . . what's done is done and you will never be able to take it back. You'll never earn the forgiveness that others think you may deserve. You'll never have another chance to prove yourself. You're finished Severus and, for the first time, I'm glad I didn't get to see you grow up."
The voice was gone as quickly as it had come, leaving Snape shaking and scared. He dropped to his knees on the dirty bedroom floor, his fingers finding the stain and reaching toward it.
The ground was warm and sticky, the blood from so many years ago not yet dried. Snape stared at it in amazement as his hands were lost in the bloody mess, the warm, red liquid creeping over his fingers, staining his nails and the creases on the back of his hands. The dagger was suddenly in his fingers and a moment later, the fallen body of his mother lay on the floor.
Snape recoiled, drawing his hands back toward him. The dagger nicked the inside of one wrist and he stared as his own blood dripped onto the floor, mingling with the spilled blood of his mother.
"Severus," she murmured, her voice muted with the wetness rising in her throat.
"No," he whispered, forcing himself to look away. He scrambled backward, feeling more out of control than he had felt in years. His back hit the wall and still he tried to move, his hands and feet scraping uselessly at the floor. Finally, he stopped moving and stared back at his mother's dying form.
"Severus," she whispered again and the hand that was trying to stop her wound from bleeding reached out to him. Red and stained, she tried to grasp his ankle in her hand.
"No," he repeated, pulling his feet out of her reach. His eyes squeezed shut as he was forced to listen to his mother dying, the same woman he had murdered and left alone less than twenty years ago.
Her breathing grew ragged and harsh, rasping through her drowning lungs. She emitted a high pitched keening sound and reached for him again, reached past him to the doorway. She dragged herself a few feet, then stopped, her head slumping lifelessly to the ground. Her breathing slowed, then stopped altogether.
Snape opened his eyes carefully and all that was left was the brown stain. He had imagined everything, his guilty mind had forced him to relive his mother's death, the death that he had caused and then fled from.
"I'm sorry," he murmured once more, then drew his shaking hands into his lap.
They were still stained with her blood . . .
* * * *
Kendra reached out for Harry's arm and caught it tightly in her hand. Her eyes glazed over a second later and a pained expression crossed her face. The Five stopped to watch as she struggled with whatever she was seeing. They had begun the walk back toward the Inn they'd been staying in, they had no where else to go as they tried to decide what they would do.
"Snape's house," she murmured a moment later. "That's where they'll be."
"Where's that?" Ron asked.
Kendra pointed to the north. "Not far from here, an hour away maybe."
"We know where we're going," Hermione said, "but not what we're going to do once we get there."
"You know we can't give him the pearl," Parvati said softly. "That's like giving up completely. Handing the world over to him to destroy."
Kendra nodded. "I know that, but we can't leave Snape to die either. It's just not right."
Harry sighed. "He really didn't give us much choice, did he?"
"Don't say that, it's like telling me that we have to let Snape die to save the world," Kendra said.
"That might be what we have to do," Hermione murmured gently. "We can't let Voldemort win to save one life because . . . he'll wipe out everyone and it won't matter in the end because Snape will still be dead. And so will we."
"There has to be another way," Kendra said.
Hermione shook her head. "I really don't think there is."
"We'll think of something," Kendra insisted, then began to lead them in the direction of Snape's childhood home.
"How do you think she'll react if Snape really does die?" Ron asked, catching Harry's arm and falling behind the group.
Harry stared at Kendra sadly, then looked at Ron. "I think she might go out of her mind."
"He really might die," Ron murmured.
Harry nodded. "I know."
"You really think it'll drive her insane?"
"She'll be heartbroken."
Ron frowned. "Why?"
Harry paused, then shrugged. "I don't know exactly. Through all this mess and her parents' death, he's been the only authority figure around. Maybe she's become attached to him in that sense . . . or maybe it's just because of their connection. She can hear his thoughts Ron, that's a pretty personal experience. She looks up to him, despite everything he's done to her."
Ron stared at the dark haired girl leading the group. "I just hope she can put her hand on that necklace when it comes down to the world or Snape."
"She might care for him, but she knows the right thing to do," Harry said.
Ron sighed. "I certainly hope you know what you're talking about. Because if she balks when it's time to finish this . . ." he trailed off.
"She won't," Harry said ardently. "I promise, Ron, she won't."
* * * *