In a green leather wing backed chair, Severus sat, staring at the
wall. His long hands gripped the arms tightly. He had tried reading, he had
tried playing chess, he had tried sleeping. Nothing helped. Nothing could
make the delusions go away. Faces loomed before him, desperately asking him
to help them.
Severus sank backwards into the chair, his melancholy face twisted in pain. "Leave me be, damn you!" he screamed, and then whispered, almost inaudibly, "How can I save you if I can't even save myself?"
How much blood would they put on his hands before all this was through? Maniacally, he leapt from the chair. There was blood on his hands, he had to wash his hands. He ran, staggering, desperate steps, to the small bathroom in his quarters. He turned on the tap, ice water flowing over his hands.
The water was cold, cold like his blood. Cold water would not make the blood go away. He turned of the cold water, turned on the hot. The water was steaming as it hit his hands. Severus closed his eyes, groaned in pain as the scalding liquid ran all over his hands. After nearly ten minutes under the water, he reached out and turned off the tap.
Pulling gauze out from the bathroom closet, he bound his hands. Then, with a bitter moan, he sat on the side of the tub. Still, the images danced before him.
His first year at Hogwarts. He was on the train, riding there. He was walking from car to car, looking for companionship. The first people he came upon were the ones he remembered. A girl and a boy. She was a pretty green-eyed redhead, Severus remembered. Even eleven year old boys, famous for the phobia of girls, thought so. The one she was sitting with apparently thought so too. He had sloppy black hair, probably never combed it before in his life, and glasses.
In his fourth year. He hesitantly approached her. She was so beautiful, with auburn curls and emerald eyes. The Valentine's Day ball was only a week away. He was only a few feet away from her, he opened his mouth to call her name, and then he froze. That strutting idiot, James, the boy with the black hair, had walked up to her and took her hand. She smiled at him, kissed his cheek. No! Severus was left alone, standing in the hallway with his mouth agape.
His sixth year. Sirius Black told Severus how to find out what was wrong with Remus Lupin. 'Just push the knob in the trunk!' He tried it, started traveling through the subterranean tunnel. Suddenly, there was James yet again, running after him. 'Don't go in there! He's dangerous, a werewolf!' he had said, out of breath, dragging him back. He was in on the prank; Severus could tell by the fear in his eyes. For days afterwards, he strutted about, proud to have 'saved' Severus's life.
The worst scene of all of them would go here, but for some reason, it did not come. Not yet. It would come last in his cycle of visions, like it always did.
The first day of school four years ago. A boy walked in. He had sloppy black hair and strutted as he walked in. He looked for all the world like the other boy, but his eyes were green, and there was a scar on his forehead.
A day a few years later, midterm. The same boy, with the scar, tells him to shut up. Screams, really. 'My dad didn't strut, and neither do I!' he had shouted. Then, he found a spare bit of parchment in the boy's possession. They taunted him in writing. All four of them, including Prongs. Especially Prongs. The bastard!
Nearly the present. Dumbledore comes in, into this room. 'Severus, something has happened.' He could tell that Dumbledore was worried. 'What, Albus?' The old man just shook his head, a lone tear sliding down his cheek. 'It's Harry Potter. He has just committed suicide.' Severus sank numbly into a chair. It couldn't be. 'Are you sure?' The old man nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and left, saying, 'I must inform the other teachers.' What would befall them now?
Then, IT came. The horrible memory. It was clearer than the others, as though he was really there, Fourteen years ago. He was wearing a black robe, standing beside Voldemort. The robe of a Death Eater. "Another glorious victory about to occur, Snape."
He tried to keep his voice in a monotone as he spoke, "Yes, Master. Who gave the Potters away?" He did not know, Dumbledore would want to hear it from his lips, would want him to save them if he could. But somehow, he knew he could not. They would die, all three of them. Part of him should have been glad, the part that had hated James since they were children. Yet, he did not. In the end, he would not be able to save them.
"Oh, that is of no consequence. Just a long time helper of mine." Who was it? Probably Sirius Black. The foul, conniving bastard. He WOULD betray his best friend.
"What do you want of me, Master?" Please, don't make me kill them. Not me.
Voldemort laughed, a high-pitched, terrible laugh. "I just want you to wait outside while I do this. You are to stand guard, and listen to their glorious screams!"
"Yes, Master," Snape whispered, his head bowed and filled with self loathing. His hand rested on the wand tucked in his belt. Stop him, his mind screamed. The killing curse, the crucio, anything, freeze him in place, DO SOMETHING! He could not and he knew it. There was a shield around him at all times, a reflector. Any negative spell cast on him would automatically rebound on the caster.
That gave him an idea. He crept up to the window, raised his wand. He had to wait until Voldemort was distracted. There was a sudden flash of green light, and James fell. He was not glaring at Voldemort anymore, not telling Lily to run. He was looking out the window, staring at Severus. James hated him then, hated him with his last breath.
Snape did not have time to shake his head, could not let James know it had not been his fault, not let him know he was trying to save them. He was too busy casting the spell. Then he had to pick a target. He had to choose between mother and child. He waited, tensely, for Voldemort to choose his target. He killed Lily. She died screaming in the green light, casting a minor spell to protect her child. It would not be enough and Severus knew it. He chose his target. Little Harry had now received a reflection spell. It would only last for about half an hour, but hopefully that would be enough.
Voldemort pointed his wand at the baby, who was wailing incredibly loudly. A third flash of green light, and this time Voldemort fell. He never turned around, he never knew that Severus had been the one. At least, Severus hoped Voldemort did not know.
The cycle of visions stopped then. They would repeat soon, from the beginning.
Left with a few minutes of clarity before the delusions came again, Severus realized he was trembling and had broken into a cold sweat.
No one, not even Dumbledore, knew Severus had been there that night. Everyone assumed that "The Mother's Blessing", as the protection spell Lily or James, presumably Lily, had cast, had been what had finished Voldemort off. No one knew that it was Severus who killed Voldemort.
He was cursed. That would explain everything. He had killed Voldemort, to save Harry's life. But Voldemort was not really dead, and Snape knew it. He had tried to tell Dumbledore, but the old man had told him to just celebrate the victory over evil. He had tried to explain that Voldemort might have known that he had betrayed his Master, and Dumbledore tried to assure him otherwise.
Now, he is still alive, teaching successfully at Hogwarts. Meanwhile, the evil being he brought down had been suffering for fourteen years might now know that Severus was responsible for that downfall. And now, just to rub salt in the wound, the child he had been trying to save in his efforts had run off and killed himself. It had all been in vain. The dark lord was not dead, the person Severus had been trying to save was, and Voldemort was calling him.
Severus looked down at his forearm. There was a black tattoo there, the dark mark. The night he had killed Voldemort, Snape had tried to remove the bloody tattoo in every way he could think of. He had tried to cut it off, scratch it off, even burning had not worked. It had taken Madame Pomfrey several hours to fix all of the cuts and burns on his forearm, as well as a skin graft. Yet somehow, the dark mark was still there. It had become more and more visible over the past hour. Voldemort was requesting his presence.
Shivering, Severus tapped his wand to the stone wall. "Communico!" The wall shimmered, and then looked like a mirror. "Dumbledore!" he barked, and the wizened old headmaster suddenly appeared before him.
"Yes, Severus?" he asked kindly, noting in passing that his potions teacher was not looking well.
"Headmaster, I must take a vacation. It's a family affair, my grandmother is not feeling well. I have no idea what condition she is in, and thus am not sure how long I will be gone."
Dumbledore nodded. He understood; they had made a code several months ago. A trip to visit his sick grandmother (both of Snape's grandmothers had been dead for years) meant that Voldemort was calling him. "I understand. You may go. I myself will teach the class until you return."
The wall slowly faded back to stone. He grabbed his broomstick then, which had been suited with an invisibility glamour, activated when he flew it. Donning his heavy cloak, Severus flew out into the night.
Severus sank backwards into the chair, his melancholy face twisted in pain. "Leave me be, damn you!" he screamed, and then whispered, almost inaudibly, "How can I save you if I can't even save myself?"
How much blood would they put on his hands before all this was through? Maniacally, he leapt from the chair. There was blood on his hands, he had to wash his hands. He ran, staggering, desperate steps, to the small bathroom in his quarters. He turned on the tap, ice water flowing over his hands.
The water was cold, cold like his blood. Cold water would not make the blood go away. He turned of the cold water, turned on the hot. The water was steaming as it hit his hands. Severus closed his eyes, groaned in pain as the scalding liquid ran all over his hands. After nearly ten minutes under the water, he reached out and turned off the tap.
Pulling gauze out from the bathroom closet, he bound his hands. Then, with a bitter moan, he sat on the side of the tub. Still, the images danced before him.
His first year at Hogwarts. He was on the train, riding there. He was walking from car to car, looking for companionship. The first people he came upon were the ones he remembered. A girl and a boy. She was a pretty green-eyed redhead, Severus remembered. Even eleven year old boys, famous for the phobia of girls, thought so. The one she was sitting with apparently thought so too. He had sloppy black hair, probably never combed it before in his life, and glasses.
In his fourth year. He hesitantly approached her. She was so beautiful, with auburn curls and emerald eyes. The Valentine's Day ball was only a week away. He was only a few feet away from her, he opened his mouth to call her name, and then he froze. That strutting idiot, James, the boy with the black hair, had walked up to her and took her hand. She smiled at him, kissed his cheek. No! Severus was left alone, standing in the hallway with his mouth agape.
His sixth year. Sirius Black told Severus how to find out what was wrong with Remus Lupin. 'Just push the knob in the trunk!' He tried it, started traveling through the subterranean tunnel. Suddenly, there was James yet again, running after him. 'Don't go in there! He's dangerous, a werewolf!' he had said, out of breath, dragging him back. He was in on the prank; Severus could tell by the fear in his eyes. For days afterwards, he strutted about, proud to have 'saved' Severus's life.
The worst scene of all of them would go here, but for some reason, it did not come. Not yet. It would come last in his cycle of visions, like it always did.
The first day of school four years ago. A boy walked in. He had sloppy black hair and strutted as he walked in. He looked for all the world like the other boy, but his eyes were green, and there was a scar on his forehead.
A day a few years later, midterm. The same boy, with the scar, tells him to shut up. Screams, really. 'My dad didn't strut, and neither do I!' he had shouted. Then, he found a spare bit of parchment in the boy's possession. They taunted him in writing. All four of them, including Prongs. Especially Prongs. The bastard!
Nearly the present. Dumbledore comes in, into this room. 'Severus, something has happened.' He could tell that Dumbledore was worried. 'What, Albus?' The old man just shook his head, a lone tear sliding down his cheek. 'It's Harry Potter. He has just committed suicide.' Severus sank numbly into a chair. It couldn't be. 'Are you sure?' The old man nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and left, saying, 'I must inform the other teachers.' What would befall them now?
Then, IT came. The horrible memory. It was clearer than the others, as though he was really there, Fourteen years ago. He was wearing a black robe, standing beside Voldemort. The robe of a Death Eater. "Another glorious victory about to occur, Snape."
He tried to keep his voice in a monotone as he spoke, "Yes, Master. Who gave the Potters away?" He did not know, Dumbledore would want to hear it from his lips, would want him to save them if he could. But somehow, he knew he could not. They would die, all three of them. Part of him should have been glad, the part that had hated James since they were children. Yet, he did not. In the end, he would not be able to save them.
"Oh, that is of no consequence. Just a long time helper of mine." Who was it? Probably Sirius Black. The foul, conniving bastard. He WOULD betray his best friend.
"What do you want of me, Master?" Please, don't make me kill them. Not me.
Voldemort laughed, a high-pitched, terrible laugh. "I just want you to wait outside while I do this. You are to stand guard, and listen to their glorious screams!"
"Yes, Master," Snape whispered, his head bowed and filled with self loathing. His hand rested on the wand tucked in his belt. Stop him, his mind screamed. The killing curse, the crucio, anything, freeze him in place, DO SOMETHING! He could not and he knew it. There was a shield around him at all times, a reflector. Any negative spell cast on him would automatically rebound on the caster.
That gave him an idea. He crept up to the window, raised his wand. He had to wait until Voldemort was distracted. There was a sudden flash of green light, and James fell. He was not glaring at Voldemort anymore, not telling Lily to run. He was looking out the window, staring at Severus. James hated him then, hated him with his last breath.
Snape did not have time to shake his head, could not let James know it had not been his fault, not let him know he was trying to save them. He was too busy casting the spell. Then he had to pick a target. He had to choose between mother and child. He waited, tensely, for Voldemort to choose his target. He killed Lily. She died screaming in the green light, casting a minor spell to protect her child. It would not be enough and Severus knew it. He chose his target. Little Harry had now received a reflection spell. It would only last for about half an hour, but hopefully that would be enough.
Voldemort pointed his wand at the baby, who was wailing incredibly loudly. A third flash of green light, and this time Voldemort fell. He never turned around, he never knew that Severus had been the one. At least, Severus hoped Voldemort did not know.
The cycle of visions stopped then. They would repeat soon, from the beginning.
Left with a few minutes of clarity before the delusions came again, Severus realized he was trembling and had broken into a cold sweat.
No one, not even Dumbledore, knew Severus had been there that night. Everyone assumed that "The Mother's Blessing", as the protection spell Lily or James, presumably Lily, had cast, had been what had finished Voldemort off. No one knew that it was Severus who killed Voldemort.
He was cursed. That would explain everything. He had killed Voldemort, to save Harry's life. But Voldemort was not really dead, and Snape knew it. He had tried to tell Dumbledore, but the old man had told him to just celebrate the victory over evil. He had tried to explain that Voldemort might have known that he had betrayed his Master, and Dumbledore tried to assure him otherwise.
Now, he is still alive, teaching successfully at Hogwarts. Meanwhile, the evil being he brought down had been suffering for fourteen years might now know that Severus was responsible for that downfall. And now, just to rub salt in the wound, the child he had been trying to save in his efforts had run off and killed himself. It had all been in vain. The dark lord was not dead, the person Severus had been trying to save was, and Voldemort was calling him.
Severus looked down at his forearm. There was a black tattoo there, the dark mark. The night he had killed Voldemort, Snape had tried to remove the bloody tattoo in every way he could think of. He had tried to cut it off, scratch it off, even burning had not worked. It had taken Madame Pomfrey several hours to fix all of the cuts and burns on his forearm, as well as a skin graft. Yet somehow, the dark mark was still there. It had become more and more visible over the past hour. Voldemort was requesting his presence.
Shivering, Severus tapped his wand to the stone wall. "Communico!" The wall shimmered, and then looked like a mirror. "Dumbledore!" he barked, and the wizened old headmaster suddenly appeared before him.
"Yes, Severus?" he asked kindly, noting in passing that his potions teacher was not looking well.
"Headmaster, I must take a vacation. It's a family affair, my grandmother is not feeling well. I have no idea what condition she is in, and thus am not sure how long I will be gone."
Dumbledore nodded. He understood; they had made a code several months ago. A trip to visit his sick grandmother (both of Snape's grandmothers had been dead for years) meant that Voldemort was calling him. "I understand. You may go. I myself will teach the class until you return."
The wall slowly faded back to stone. He grabbed his broomstick then, which had been suited with an invisibility glamour, activated when he flew it. Donning his heavy cloak, Severus flew out into the night.