"It was wonderful, the time we spent together," Snape told his old friend. "I went to see her every chance I could. It was- cleansing- to be with someone so pure. She required nothing of me but my friendship." He paused in thought. "Do you understand, Albus? She was the only thing in my life that was not tainted with evil. She never questioned why I had to leave abruptly when I was summoned. She never demanded reasons when I would return to her tired or injured or distraught. I was doing horrible things, and they weighed heavily on me, but when I was with her, I was whole again.
"Then I learned that Voldemort had demanded, and received, the lives of her father and mother. It had nothing to do with Medea. Her father had discovered a spy, a Death Eater, in his staff. But I had had enough. That's when I came to you."
"I remember," Dumbledore replied, nodding. "You told me of your disillusionment. You needed redemption. You did it for this woman?"
"No, I did it because of her." He crossed the room and poured himself a drink. "I was accepted by her with no strings attached. I was not expected to be anything I was not. I was not expected to do her bidding. Her only expectation was that I would not hurt her in any way."
"Tell me more about her."
"I returned to her as soon as I left you."
Snape apparated in her flat from just outside the school grounds. He was tired, had lived through the worst memories of his life in the few days he had spent with Dumbledore, but he needed to see her. Needed to tell her. Her living room was completely dark except for a few candles above her fireplace.
"Medea?" he called softly.
"I'm here, Sev." He turned to find her sitting in a dark corner across the room, cradling a wine glass in the palm of her hand. He crossed the room to her.
"Medea, I need to talk to you."
"Dea?" A man's voice emanated from a back room. Blood pounded in Snape's ears. "Is someone there with you?" The man appeared a moment later. He was a few inches shorter than Snape, dressed in a black robe, as both he and Medea were. Black hair hung to his shoulders. He had the same thin face and silver eyes.
"Jaken, this is my friend, Severus. Severus, my brother, Jaken."
Jaken bowed his head slightly in greeting, his eyes, Snape noticed, watching him carefully.
"I see the resemblance," Snape commented.
"You should," he replied coldly. "We're twins."
"Jaken, don't be rude," Medea said sadly. She stood from her chair. "Would you like a drink, Sev? I have wine."
"Thank you."
"Dea, I hardly think you need another drink."
She spun to face him. "Jaken, our mother and father are dead. I think if any time calls for alcohol, it is this one."
"Dea-"
She waved him off. "I'm not leaving. And I know you and Sev here will take care of me should I need it." She disappeared into the kitchen. Snape could hear the tink of glasses touching each other.
"So how do you know my sister, Sev?" A slight sneer was on the man's lips.
"We met on the roof," came Medea's voice from the kitchen. She reappeared with a glass of wine for Severus. "He stopped to ask for directions."
"On the roof?"
"He was on a broomstick."
"I see. And what do you do when you're not riding a broomstick where all of Paris can see you?"
"Jaken, this is the second time I'm had to tell you not to be rude to my guest. Next time, I will ask you to leave."
"No need. I'm leaving now. I will see you tomorrow, Sister." He bent and kissed her lightly on the check. "Severus, a pleasure." Before Snape could reply, he had taken out his wand and disapparated from the room. Medea frowned, then wandered off into the depths of her home, reappearing with her wand. She lit the fireplace, then several more candles around the room. The walls danced with the specters of the flames. Then, she sat on the sofa and patted the cushion for him to join her.
"You said you needed to talk?"
Suddenly, Snape remembered why he had come and became uneasy.
"Another time, perhaps. You already have much to deal with."
"No. You have something important on your mind. I saw it in your eyes when you came in. What is it?"
"I really don't know how to begin."
"Is it bad?"
He felt himself nodding before he could reply. "It is."
She stood then and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the bottle of wine.
"Tell me," she said, pouring herself more wine, and adding more to his own glass. He was uncomfortable sitting next to her, knowing all he had to tell. He stood and began pacing the room, his hands pressed together, fingertips to his lips.
"Medea, you have never questioned me on why I was here that night we met. No, wait. Let me go further back."
"Take your time."
"My father died when I was very young. I don't even remember him. My mother grieved for him a long time, so long that my grandmother took care of both of us. I lived for several years with those two women, one, old and frail, the other, young and-" He paused, searching for the right word. "Ill. I was sickly, as a child. Kept indoors to read books from my grandmother's library. By the time I left for school, I'd never been away from either one of them for more than a few minutes."
"Sev, why are you telling me this?"
"Just let me finish." He took his glass from the table and emptied it. Medea watched him, then refilled the glass. "I was placed in a House with some boys, boys who were very different from me. They ran in crowds and did what they wanted. They had been raised in powerful families to do great things. That's what I wanted. They protected me, and in return, I helped them with their homework. Did it, actually."
"Protected you from what?"
"The boys in the other houses. I was weak and sick. Laughed at. Thanks to my upbringing, I had no idea how to take care of myself. My friends taught me how to stand up for myself, how to be powerful. I had never had any power before. It became an obsession for me." He paused again, gathering his thoughts. "When we graduated, one of them, Lucius, approached me about joining a group to which he and several others already belonged. He thought I was perfect for it. A sort of fraternity of powerful witches and wizards. I considered it an honor." He sat back down on the couch, his elbows on his knees, staring into the fire. "I learned the most wonderful things. At least, that's what I thought at the time. I learned to control people, to make them do what I wanted. I could make people fear me. And when I was ready, I was initiated."
"Sev?"
He was unbuttoning the sleeve on his left arm. Her eyes never left as he solemnly pulled his sleeve to his elbow, revealing the Dark Mark burned into the inside of his forearm. She could only stare in silence, her lips trying to form words, but emitting no sound. Finally, she leaned forward and drank her glass of wine, then refilled it, and drank a little more. Snape could only watch her, willing her to say something, but thankful she did not. "This is why you leave so suddenly? To serve Him?" He barely heard the question, didn't believe she had spoken until he found her eyes searching his.
"It is."
"Did it hurt?"
"It is the most painful experience of my life." He began pushing his sleeve down again, but was restrained by her touch.
"Leave it."
Snape obeyed. "My body felt as if it were engulfed in flames, to my very bones. And for all that heat, I have felt cold inside since." He took his glass into his hands, but drank none of it. He simply stared down at the burgundy liquid swishing against the sides in his trembling hands. "I have done the most terrible things. Things no man should ever do to another human being. I have tortured and killed loved one's in front of victims to make them talk. I destroyed lives. And I enjoyed it for a while. I enjoyed the power I had over my victims. And then, several months ago, I just-" He stopped, unable to continue. He swallowed hard, trying to make the lump in his throat go away, willing the tears not to fall. "I can still see all of their faces. Every single one, when I close my eyes." He felt her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her fingers slipping through his long hair, comforting him.
"That's why you were here that night. You did kill that man." She whispered those words. They were not accusatory, but merely mirroring his own thoughts.
"I had to. I had to. For all the power I wanted. All the power I had, I am his servant. I am nothing."
For a long time, she held him while he cried. They were the first tears he had shed since he was a child, and he could hold none of them back any longer. They took control of him, demanding to be released. When there were no more left, he remained in her arms and finished his story.
"I learned about your parents on the night it happened. There was nothing I could do to save them. It was already done. When I left His circle, I went to Hogwarts. My old headmaster there has been fighting Voldemort for years. I told him everything, every detail. I thought he would turn me in, send me to Azkaban. He thought I would be more useful if I were free."
"You're a spy."
"I am."
"But if Voldemort finds out-"
"He will destroy me. But at least I am helping to bring him down as well."
"It's dangerous."
"It's the only way I cannot protect those I love."
Her eyes locked onto his. She had read into his words what he had intended to say. Medea leaned forward, drying his cheeks where the tears had slid to his jaw, then gently brushed his lips with her fingertips. Finally, she kissed him gently. Snape brushed her hair from her face and pulled her close. Now she was the one crying. He tasted the salt of her tears on her lips. They held hungrily together, as if they had been starving for each other's touch since their first meeting.
Snape only broke off when the pain in his arm became unbearable.
"I have to go."
"No. No, Severus. Please stay."
"He'll kill me if I don't go." He held her face in his hands. "I'll come back. I promise."