Part V

"Now don't only show us by the argument that justice is stronger than injustice, but show what each in itself does to the man who has it that makes the one bad and the other good." Plato. The Republic (367b).

Severus Snape sat relaxing calming in his rooms. He had cast off his robes, and his overcoat lay over the back of his couch. Having comfortably unbuttoned his shirt halfway down and kicked off his boots, he was now slumped casually on his couch, staring moodily into his fireplace.

Normally Severus found the dark, brooding tones of his rooms relaxing. He had deliberately chosen dark, lush fabrics for his couch and chairs, and dark woods for his many bookcases, fireplace, and desk. Even the rugs strewn across the stone floors carried the tone. Dark greens, silvers and black created a calming environment in which he could rest, and recover from the outside world.

He had gotten very little sleep the night before, having torn himself roughly from the recurring nightmare of his return to Voldemort's side. The memory of what he had allowed, simply so that he could continue to spy for Albus, caused him to shudder. He truly believed that Albus thought he exaggerated the brutality of the Death Eaters when giving his reports. No one, with the exception of Poppy Pomfrey, knew of all the scars that laced his body. He was covered in scars, both from his recent encounters, and scars that he had acquired before Harry Potter's defeat of Voldemort. He kept them carefully hidden, both with heavy clothing, and with charms when circumstances required it.

Eventually, he'd even given up taking lovers, as the strain of hiding them became more effort than the encounters seemed worth to him. Only here, in his quarters, could he let down the illusions, both physical and magical, and simply be.

Sitting up slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, tossing it to join his overcoat. His slacks soon followed. Finally, he allowed himself to lie back on the couch, feet hanging off the end, with only his boxers as covering. He could see the scars tracing over his arms, chest and legs.

He reached a hand out and lifted his mug of tea from the table in front of his couch. Sipping slowly, he allowed the warm tea to soothe his body. The potions he had mixed in should allow him a few hours of undisturbed rest before Potter arrived to serve detention tonight. Returning his mug to the table, he found himself smirking at the true maliciousness of assigning detention over the holiday break. That was his last conscious thought before he drifted off to sleep.

His first thought as the dream took shape around him was that he definitely needed to up the dosage of his potions if they failed this quickly. His second was more along the lines of relief. This dream he knew well, and it wasn't as horrifying as many of the others he suffered with nightly.

He stood, all of fifteen, in the Great Hall. Moving forward, he was quickly reminded of the fact that while as an adult he was graceful, at fifteen, he had been too tall, too thin, and unbelievably awkward. No trace of his usual sweeping glide could be seen in his ungraceful walk to the Slytherin table. He found himself joining Malfoy, Avery and a few others he would later come to loathe and despise.

"Severus, you're late." Lucius Malfoy's voice was like steel, cold, and clean.
"Got held back in Transfiguration, you know that." His response was cool, and calm. His students would have been surprised to realize how little his verbal mannerisms had changed since his youth. That armor had been in place firmly, long before he'd ever arrived at Hogwarts. His parents had seen to that.

"What on earth possessed you to transfigure Black's desk into a Komodo Dragon Severus? You're lucky McGonnagall let you off with nothing but a firm lecture. Although the look on Black's face when it started lunging at his legs was more than worth it."

"He started it, as you very well know Lucius. I was the one who woke up with pink hair, if you'll kindly remember?"

"How can you be so sure it was Black?" Avery simply couldn't sit the conversation out. Annoying as always.

"Because Potter or Lupin would have chosen Gryffindor red." Severus couldn't believe that after all this time his "friends" still seemed so dense. These were the great threat to the wizarding world today?

Deciding that he wasn't hungry after all, Severus stood up and strode away from the table. Moving carefully down the hallway, toward the staircase, he tried determinedly to change the course of the dream. He should have known better by now.

The first blow caught him at the top of the staircase that descended into the dungeons. It sent him flying down the stairs, head over heels. He could feel the air being pushed from his lungs in the repeated impacts. Finally he came to rest at the bottom. Before he could bring himself to sit up, he was kicked firmly in the side, forcing him to roll onto his back.

Sirius Black stood above him, anger making his eyes snap. He planted his boot firmly on Severus' throat, and glared down at him.

"Greasy bastard, I should break your neck for that little trick. Of course, its nothing I wouldn't expect from a Slytherin. Did you enjoy gloating about it with your bastard friends?"

Rather than replying, Severus put some of his well-earned knowledge to work, and planted his fist right between Black's legs. As Black doubled over, Severus rolled away from him, and slowly got to his feet. Both the worse for wear they glared at each other from opposite sides of the hallway.

"Black, even an ignorant fool like yourself should know well enough by now that playing tricks like that on me is guaranteed to provoke a response."

"What are you talking about, you stupid git? I haven't gotten you good since I set you on fire in Potions last month." Black stared at Severus with confusion in his eyes.
Severus stared at Black for a minute, and then, without a word, turned and walked away. Reaching the entrance to the Slytherin common room, he gave the password. As the door opened, a snippet of conversation reached his ears, before it was quickly stifled.

"Can you believe Snape fell for it? The greasy bastard was convinced Black was the one who charmed his shampoo."

There was no mistaking that steel cold voice. Pretending not to have heard, Severus entered the common room, climbed the stairs to his dormitory, and threw himself down on his bed. Before his head could hit the pillow, the sound of his alarm jerked him roughly upright.

Severus fell abruptly off the couch and onto the floor between the couch and the coffee table. A muttered word silenced his alarm, and he realized he had slept longer than he had thought. Potter would be here in less than an hour.

Upstairs, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry snapped awake and fell out of the chair he had been napping in, while basking in the warmth of the fire. As he sat on the floor gasping, the dream came back to him. What caught his attention the most was the sheer sense of pain and betrayal that Snape had felt when throwing himself down on the bed.

The realization that he had been manipulated, for the entertainment of others, by those who claimed to be his friends. The burning question of whether he could have been friends with the Marauders, and if their conflicts had been staged by others, and could have been avoided.

One look at the clock snapped him out of his thoughts. He had to hurry and get ready, or he would be late for detention.