In the Ground to Be Laid

by Memento Mori

We are all human inside, some simply hide it more than others. Severus Snape finds that forgiveness comes at a terrible price, but brings unimaginable gain and finds his own humanity again in the arms of a beloved. Sequel to Lost Lamb Returning. *NEW C.8*

1. Potions- Past and Present

Please be a responsible reader and review.

Disclaimer: You should know the drill by now. If you recognize it, it's JKR's. If you don't, it's mine, so hands off.

A/N: For those of you who have been following me from the start, this will seem rather familiar to you. The following chapters used to be 8-11 of what is now Lost Lamb Returning. I decided, upon Silene's suggestion, to make the story two seperate fics. Lamb used to be called In the Ground to be Laid, which became this one, the sequel, instead. Confused yet? Don't worry about it, just read Lost Lamb Returning before this one and you'll be all set. I'm going to reload the first 4 chapters one at a time so I can do a complete overhaul on 'em.

In the Ground to be Laid

-MM-

~*~

Bring me a shovel, bring me a spade,

Let the dead remain dead, in the ground to be laid.

I live with remembrence, with the people I've slain,

That's the cost of ambition, the price of my gain.

They hold back from me peace, until vengence they reap,

Only then will their terror cease haunting my sleep.

So bring me a shovel, bring me a spade,

Let the dead remain dead, in the ground to be laid.

~*~

"Lyd?"

Lydia Johnson looked up from the book she was reading. "Thomas," she said in mock annoyance. "How many times have I told you not to call me Lyd? I'm always afraid you're going to try and use me to cover up a saucepan." She rose up from the couch and stretched, throwing her book on the table. "Is it time to go down already?"

"Yup." Thomas grinned and held the portrait door open for them both. "You've been sitting up here for over two hours already. What are you reading that's so interesting, anyway?"

Lydia pulled a wry face as they left the Ravenclaw common room. "Nothing you'd be interested in," she said. "Illusion de Réalité; it's an old French novel. You wouldn't like it even if you could read it."

"Gah, you're in England now, remember? We speak English here, not that blasted French."

"Just because you only speak on language," Lydia retorted, punching Thomas in the arm. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were an American."

"Ugh, Lydia, I'm hurt!" Thomas clutched at his chest above the heart and they both laughed. Still laughing, they pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and took their places at the Ravenclaw table, immersing themselves in the noisy chatter of the thousand plus students.

Soon after they entered, Dumbledore stood and gestured for quiet. Almost immediately, a respectful silence descended over the gathered students. Dumbledore smiled.

"Now," the old Headmaster addressed the assembly. "You're probably all wondering why I called you here today, on this wonderful September afternoon. It is because today, I am pleased to extend the Hogwarts' hospitality to a student who was unable to attend the Sorting Ceremony for a number of reasons. Though she has been living in France and attended Beauxbatons up until now, due to a decision on the part of her parents, both whom attended Hogwarts, she will be completing the remainder of her school days with us." He turned to smile at the Ravenclaw table. "I am pleased to introduce: Miss Lydia Johnson, fifth year in House Ravenclaw!"

Lydia flushed red as Thomas poked her in the arm. She stood a bit shyly amidst the applause and half nodded to the gathered students. When the noise died down again, Dumbledore spoke.

"I trust that you all will make certain that she feels welcome. But that, of course, goes without saying. Now-" Dumbledore beamed at all the tables. "Since I have taken so much of your time already, and since it's already rather late-" he glanced up at the enchanted ceiling which had already begun to show signs of the stars appearing, "I call for an impromptu feast!"

He clapped his hands and the golden plates appeared before each student and the tables were soon laden with all manner of good food. Soon Lydia was laughing and talking with the rest of her table.

"So why d'you decide to come t' 'Ogwarts, anyway?" a sixth year beside her asked, his mouth full of potato.

"My parents are still working back in France," Lydia explained, reaching for a platter of boiled ham and chicken. "But they wanted me to go to the same school they had when they were young. Beauxbatons is a nice school, but a lot of the girls are pretty snotty. It's really competitive too, not like here."

"How did you get here from France?" a tiny first year asked timidly. The girl was so small she could barely see over the table.

"Oh, train, just like everyone else," Lydia said. She handed the girl a bowl of potatoes that was sitting too far across the table for her to reach. "I stayed with my friend Thomas here in Kent, then took the train from London."

The talk went on for a long, long time. When the main courses were finished, platters of desserts appeared and students helped themselves to pastries, puddings and ice cream. In the midst of the meal, Lydia's eye was caught by a dour figure sitting slightly apart from the rest of the teachers, his sharp eyes glaring.

"Thomas," she whispered, interrupting her friend who was trying to balance an enormous pile of bread pudding on top of a treacle tart. "Who's that man there, the teacher in black?"

"Mrph?" Thomas looked up. "Oh," he said, swallowing his mouthful. "That's Ol' Snape the Potions Master." He shuddered as the cold eyes darted his way. "Don't get on the wrong side of him. Actually, don't get on any side of him. Stay away from him completely, if you can. He's not a man to cross, Snape." Suddenly, he turned and brightened. "Butterscotch!" he exclaimed and immediately began pouring generous amounts of the gooey golden sauce over his plate.

Lydia wasn't about the let the subject drop so easily, but she knew how Thomas was about his food. So she decided to bide her time; she'd corner him later in the common room.

Sure enough, after the feast came to an end and they all retired to their respective Houses, Lydia brought it up again.

"What did you say his name was again?" she asked, staring into the fire. Thomas looked up, startled.

"Who?"

"That teacher- the Potions Master."

"Oh, him. Severus Snape." Thomas looked at her strangely. "Why is this so important to you?" he asked. "What's so interesting about that greasy git?"

"I don't know." Lydia shrugged. "He seems familiar. Like I know him or something. I don't know, maybe I heard one of my parents mention him before."

"Maybe. He's not someone you're likely to forget." Thomas shuddered in mock horror. "Greasy, nasty, sneaky, mean, cruel, sadistic, heartless-"

"Okay, okay! I think I get the point!" Lydia laughed and stretched, catlike, on the chair. "We've got him for Potions tomorrow afternoon, right?"

"Yeah. Double. With the Slytherin snakes. Should be fun." His tone clearly indicated just how "fun" he expected it to be. "I'd rather work with Hufflepuffs than those slimy bastards."

"Mhm, my father told me stories about them," she mused. "I'll be sure to watch out."

"You may need to do more than that," Thomas warned. "Ugh." He fell back with a look of dazed pain in his eyes. "I don't feel so well."

Lydia snorted. "I'm not surprised, eating as much as you did. What possessed you to try and tackle an entire steak and kidney pie right after that blood pudding?" She snickered unmercifully as Thomas' eyes glazed over as he held his aching stomach. "And then that ham and chicken? And did you really need all those potatoes? And dessert! Where do I even start?"

Thomas looked at her reproachfully. "You, Lydia Johnson, are a cruel, cruel girl."

"Oh, you'll feel fine in the morning," she said gaily. "If not, you can always get your dearly loved Potions Master to mix you something that'll make you feel right better."

"Thank you, I'd rather die of indigestion than whatever it is that old coot would fix up for me," Thomas grumbled. In fact, he grumbled the entire way to the stairs where they parted to go up to bed, and Lydia could have almost sworn she could hear him still at it as she climbed into her four poster bed.

As she lay in the dark, though, the mirth she had felt down in the common room dissolved, leaving her feeling not exactly empty, but- anticipating something. Whatever it was, it kept her up long past the time when everyone else had gone to sleep, staring at the ceiling and trying to pin down her thoughts. And whatever it was, she had a feeling she'd know more tomorrow during double Potions...

Snape was just putting the final touches on his truth potion when the first of his students arrived. Without looking up, he carefully arranged the bundle of Jobberknoll feathers on the table in front of his desk. It wasn't until the last student arrived and took their seat that he looked up.

He glared at the seated students, his black eyes clouded and unreadable. Ravenclaw and Slytherin. His mind wandered back to the day of his own Sorting and he almost smiled at the irony of it all. How perfectly fitting. Drawing himself up, he gazed coolly at the students and began his introductory speech which hadn't changed in all the years he had been teaching at Hogwarts.

"I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

He didn't really have his hopes up with regards to the last part. As his eyes flicked over the call sheet he recalled most of the names from previous years. Marissa Hain, the Ravenclaw who had managed to somehow shrink her own cauldron while brewing a swelling solution; Andrew Morrowi, Slytherin. He had nearly killed himself last year when a fellow Slytherin had dared him to drink a potion that was only half completed. Snape snorted to himself. Andrew was the son of his old housemate Jake Morrowi, a hopeless idiot. Unfortunately, it looked as if Andrew was following in his father's footsteps.

There was Alicia Kenny, who'd strewn the classroom with rat tails; Mosco Vinnet who shattered a jar of leeches on the floor; and-

"Lydia Johnson."

Snape froze for as he read the name from the sheet and nearly dropped the parchment. Coincidence, he told himself fiercely as he stared at the named marked in black ink. It's a common enough name. It's just a coincidence. He looked up sharply, searching for the girl.

"Sir."

For a moment, it seemed as if time stood still. It was her face that looked back at him, her face just as he remembered it all those years ago. The heavy black braid hung over her left shoulder, her head lifted just so as she raised her hand. For a moment, he thought it was her.

Don't be ridiculous, the voice in his head said sharply. That was almost fifteen years ago. Get your head on straight, some of the students are starting to stare.

Abruptly Snape brought himself back to the present and finished the rest of the list with his usual curtness. When he had finished, he set the students to work creating truth serums and within moments the room was filled with fire, steam, yells and floating blue speckled feathers everywhere. Meanwhile, Snape stood back to watch his newest batch of students, one girl in particular.

As he studied her more carefully, Snape realized that she was not, in fact, as similar to the girl he remembered as he had first thought. The hair and build was the same, but this girl's nose was rather flat and her eyes were spaced just a tad too far apart to be attractive. Still, the resemblance was startling. Even as he watched, he felt the memories overtaking him, but this time there was no fear, no pain...

* * *

"You again?" The familiar teasing voice startled Severus out of his thoughts. "I thought your kind mostly hid in the grass. I see that someone has yet to step on your tail."

"And I see that you're just a bird brained as ever." Severus looked up from his plate as Julia took the seat next to him.

"You're more right than you think," she groaned as she buried her head in her arms. "Ugh, if I'm smart enough to be put in Ravenclaw, then how come I can't even make a bloody shrinking solution?" She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. Today it was out of its normal braid and she let it hang loose to her shoulder blades. "I've been going to tutoring and everything, but nothing seems to work! It comes out red when it's supposed to be green, it's runny when it should be thick, clear when it should be milky- I don't know what to do!" She pounded the table out of pure frustration, making the plates and goblets shake and dance.

"You could start by letting me finish my meal without wearing it," Severus said blandly. Julia just rolled her eyes. "Seriously," he continued. "What's so difficult about it? You just add the ingredients and follow the steps. If you're a wizard- or a witch- it should come out fine. I don't understand why people have so much trouble with it."

"Because maybe some of us don't spend all our time down in the dungeons," she retorted. "It's not so easy for the rest of us, y'know."

"Yes, so I gathered." Snape toyed with a piece of bread then sighed. He stood and glared at Julia. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you coming?" he snapped, turning and heading towards the doors.

"Coming where?" Julia half rose, uncertain.

"To the dungeons, of course. Do you want to learn how to make a potion or not?" He strode onwards, not waiting.

"Fine, fine. Hey, wait up! Wait!" Julia ran after him as he laughed.

"Okay, so now you wait until it turns a light blue color...not yet...not yet...now! Add the daisy roots all at once!"

Yelping with startlement, Julia dropped in her bundle of roots and watch wide-eyed as the bubbling liquid turned light gold then darkened into a berry red. "I did it!" she squealed. "I did it!"

Severus smiled as he watched the Ravenclaw girl dance around the potions classroom. Professor Carroay had lent them the use of the room when Julia asked; Severus suspected that a good deal of the reason Carroay had agreed so quickly was because that way he would not have to tutor Julia himself. It wasn't that she was such a terrible student so much as the fact that Carroay took little to no pleasure in his teaching subject, something that earned him no little scorn from Severus.

"You're not done yet," he reminded her when she wound down slightly. "You've still got the peel the shrivelfig and add the sliced caterpillar, remember?"

Julia made a face. "How about you add the caterpillar for me while I do the shrivelfig. There's just something about all those legs that really gets to me."

"I rather think not," Severus told her with a smirk. "This is your potion, remember? That means you get to do every step all by yourself." He ducked the blow she aimed in his direction. "Hey!"

"Patronizing bastard," she muttered as she pulled a knife from one of the desks. Carefully, she lay the shrivelfig down on the table and began peeling away the skin. "You know, though, I think this is the first time I've ever had a potion go right for me before. It's amazing, really. I wonder what Carroay would think?"

Severus snorted. "He'd probably take one look and pack up, leaving me behind to take his place," he said. "That man may know what he's doing, but it certainly doesn't show half the time. I wonder if there's anything he does care about."

"Who knows? He certainly doesn't look like he's enjoying himself at all during cla- ouch!" Julia dropped the knife and quickly stuck her fingers in her mouth.

"What is it? What happened?"

"Cut myself," she said, taking her fingers out to look at her hand. "Startled me more than anything, I think. It doesn't really hurt- just a scratch."

"You're bleeding." Gently, Severus took her hand and pressed a damp cloth to the place where the blood had gathered. "Hold this here until it stops." He caught her eyes for a split second and felt his face heating. "Don't get any blood into the cauldron," he said, looking away. He stared at the boiling potion, but slender fingers caught his gaunt cheekbone and turned his face back.

"Thank you, Severus," Julia said, her voice low and strange. She leaned forward slightly until their faces were almost touching and Snape could feel her warm breath on his lips. Then she kissed him.

Caught off guard, Severus nearly stumbled backwards, catching himself at the last moment on the side of the desk. Her lips were warm on his, gentle, and he tasted the faint trace of cranberries. He found his hands reaching up as he kissed her back, hesitantly at first, then with greater confidence.

When they finally broke apart, she smiled at him shyly. They said nothing for some time, the only sound the constant dripping from somewhere in the dungeons and the hiss of the fire beneath the cauldron. Finally, Julia spoke.

"I hope you don't-" She stopped and searched for the words. "I mean, I don't often just- you see I- oh damn!"

"Don't worry about it," Severus told her. "I think I get what you're trying to say." He looked at her for a moment remembering the soft touch of her lips, the smell of her hair. He licked his lips and tasted cranberries. He caught her glance and felt himself turning red again. Quickly, he looked away and his gaze fell on the cauldron. He felt his eyes widen.

"Get the fire!" he shouted, hurrying to lift the frothing pewter cauldron off the flames. Some of the red liquid splattered onto his hands, but he grit his teeth against the pain and heaved. The heavy cauldron landed on the floor and rocked on its base, but eventually it steadied enough for Severus to let go. Meanwhile, Julia had managed to put out the fire and rushed over to help him. Once they had gotten everything under control, she leaned back against the stone walls and wiped her brow with the sleeve of her robe.

"Damn," she swore. "And it was going so well, too! Bah," she flicked a piece of shrivelfig onto the floor, where puddles of potion had formed when the crimson liquid had boiled up over the rim of the cauldron. "Maybe I was just never meant to be good at potions."

"Rubbish. You just need to concentrate. Spend a little more time with it. You did just fine today until all this."

"Maybe." She didn't sound convinced.

Just at that moment, Professor Carroay entered the room. He stopped, eyes widening as took in the mess of his classroom. At that moment, Severus noticed that in their haste one of them had knocked over both the bag of shrivelfigs and the jar of caterpillars; the contents of both were strewn all over the floor.

"I see you two have been busy," he remarked. He glanced at Severus. "Was there any problem?"

"Er-"

"No, sir," Julia interrupted. "The cauldron heated up more quickly than I thought. Caught me by surprise. Severus had his back turned at the time."

"I see." Carroay sighed. "Well then, just get this mess cleaned up before you leave. I have a class in ten minutes."

"Yessir," they both said as he left. In a matter of moments they had the mess more or less cleaned up, although there were still caterpillar parts stuck in between the stones of the floor. As they gathered up their bags to go, Julia caught Severus' hand in hers.

"Thanks again," she said, rising up on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the cheek. She gave his hand one final squeeze, then disappeared up the stairs to the Ravenclaw Tower. Snape watched her go, an odd expression in his eyes and the taste of cranberries on his lips.

* * *

Snape was suddenly startled out of his memory by a peal of laughter. He looked over sharply. The Johnson girl was smiling at something her friend had said, a rather mournful looking boy Snape remembered as having cracked three cauldrons the year before. Her black eyes flashed as she laughed, and suddenly Snape found himself irritated for no particular reason.

"Mr. Applegate," he said icily. "I do believe that's your cauldron that's about to boil over, isn't it?"

The girl's companion looked over, startled, then panicked as he tried to lower the flames heating the liquid. Snape sat back, somewhat satisfied until he caught the girl looking at him strangely. The look in her eyes reminded him of that other girl from years ago as she told him off down in the Hogwarts fields. He felt something inside him twist uncomfortably.

The minutes dragged by intolerably, and it seemed to Snape that hours had passed when he finally called the students up to hand their potions over to him. They lined up in front of his desk for his critique like prisoners lining up for their executions.

"The solution is supposed to be clear, Jamus, not blue. You should be able to pour a potion; why, then, Marissa, does yours appear almost solid? You've got crystals in yours, Mr. Applegate. If I made you drink it next time, would it improve your performance? Miss Johnson-"

Snape paused, holding the crystal phial up to the light. The liquid was perfectly clear and just the right viscosity. He stared harder. Nothing caught his eye that was not supposed to be there. The potion was flawless.

"Well done, Miss Johnson," he said curtly, handing the phial back to her. "The rest of you could take a lesson from this," he said, raising his voice. As much as it pained him to admit it, he was impressed. Only a few fifth years had been able to create such a potion before, and one of those had been Snape himself back in his days as a student.

The rest of the class went one by one through his scathing evaluation, some coming out on the brink of tears although on the whole it was the Slytherins that fared slightly better. Although it was only the first day of class, Snape had found reason to take a total of forty five points from the Ravenclaw house, whereas he awarded fifteen to a Slytherin student who had made a potion nearly as good as Lydia Johnson's. He heard the students muttering and casting dark glances over their shoulders at him as they filed out, but he ignored them. He'd had enough practice at it, after all.

When the last student had departed for their next class, Snape shut the door with a minor spell and leaned back, eyes closed. He tried to recall the heavy braid of dark hair, the brown eyes that could flash with laughter at a moment's notice. Or the clean scent of her skin and hair. Or the taste of cranberry.

It was useless. His mind was empty and blank; try as he would he could not dreg up a single memory, good or bad, with any clarity. What he could remember were no more than faded images, pictures with blurry faces and empty voices.

After sitting there for an immeasurable time, searching the farthest corners of his mind any memory, Snape gave up. With a small sigh, he retired to his office and sat at his desk facing a plain wall mirror. His own image stared back at him, a mouth twisted from too many lies, a jaw clenched so long he couldn't remember it any other way. He stared at his reflection for as long as he could, then turned away angrily, as if he couldn't bear looking at his own face.

"Can you believe that bloody git?" As soon as they were clear the dungeons, Thomas exploded. "Forty five points on the first day! And for what? Nothing he'd ever blame his precious Slytherins for, that's for sure."

"Mhm." Lydia nodded absently as they headed out to their next class, Herbology.

"And then he had the gall to give that bastard William Syrus fifteen points for his potion! And yours was better than his by far!" Thomas growled and banged his fist against the walls as they passed. "I don't know how I'm going to stand that class for the rest of the year. What about you, Lydia?"

But Lydia was no longer listening. "Did you see the look he gave me today?" she asked, her eyes distant. "It was as if he was trying to see something about me that wasn't there. It was so strange..."

"Huh. Probably trying to find something he could take more points off for," Thomas scowled. "Don't know why Dumbledore keeps him on. I'm surprised he hasn't been given the boot from the sheer number of complaints Dumbledore must get about him! Honestly!"

"Thomas, you're really a big nit sometimes, you know that?" Lydia asked absently as they picked their way over to the huge greenhouses. "Give it a rest, will you?"

"Hmph. Fine. I just don't see where he gets off doing-"

"Thomas." Lydia turned a steely gaze on her friend. "Shut it. I'm trying to think." She shook her head. "My mum once told me something about him once. Of course, he wasn't a teacher then." She pondered a moment longer. "Nope. No good, can't think of it. S'bothering me, though. Wish I could remember what it was."

"Unless it's the secret of how to get on his good side without changing Houses, I don't want to hear it. Okay, okay!" He threw up his hands when she gave him a Look. "I'll drop it. Don't worry. Herbology with the Hufflepuffs will give me more than enough to complain about tonight at supper."

"I'll look forward to it," Lydia responded dryly.

Herbology was not as bad as Thomas made it out to be; in fact, Lydia found most of the Hufflepuffs to be rather endearing, though a bit thick in their steadfast refusal to think any way but linearly. True to his word, though, Thomas kept up his endless litany of complaints the entire way back to the castle and through most of supper. The only thing Lydia was thankful for was that he couldn't eat and talk at the same time.

As she toyed with a bit of carrot, she happened to glance up at the High Table where the teachers sat. There at the end, his sallow face twisted in its usual sneer, was Severus Snape.

Tonight there was something pointed about his stare. It was obvious he was directing his hate at someone specific. Lydia could almost feel the hostility and resentment radiating from the tall Potions Master in waves. She followed his eyes to the unfortunate who was on the receiving end of his dubious attentions.

She was surprised to find that it was directed at a rather small, scruffy black haired boy with glasses sitting at the Gryffindor table. When she looked harder, however, she realized that she recognized the boy, for even in the far reaches of France they had heard the name of this boy echoed through the streets and in every wizarding household. The boy who had defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he was only an infant, destroyed the Dark Lord before he could walk. The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter.

All at once, Lydia realized that she had been staring and immediately turned her attentions back to her food. As she ate, she realized with a small grin that she was vaguely disappointed. Harry Potter, the boy who the entire wizarding world knew about, was as plain and ordinary looking as a boiled potato. She snickered quietly as she speared one on the end of her fork.

"What's so funny?" Thomas demanded as he devoured a large portion of chicken and dumplings. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Nothing, and no." Lydia plopped the potato onto her friend's plate and pushed her own away. "A good first day, don't you think?"

"Huh, if you discount class with that greasy git, Snape, then I guess so."

"Is that class going to be like that all year? Does he ever loosen up?"

"Snape? Loosen up?" Thomas snorted. "That'll be the day when the grass turns purple and the kelpies start singing. And I guarantee you that if it does happen, it'll long after I'm dead. That man's so stubborn he'll probably outlive us all just out of spite."

"Mm." Suddenly, Lydia grinned. "It's going to be a good year," she announced. "I can feel it."

"Uh oh, don't tell me you're turning into Trelawney," Thomas moaned.

"Who?"

"The Divinations Professor." Thomas pulled a face. "Don't worry, you'll meet her in time. I hope you don't anticipate living a long life or dying peacefully in bed."

"Half the time I don't understand a thing you're saying, you know that?"

"Never mind. You'll see what I mean when you have her class." His eyes lit up. "Dessert!"

The rest of the meal passed in relative quiet.