Chapter 8: Discussions in the Dungeons
Author's Note: Major apologies that it took me so long to get this chapter out. It has been written and re-written at least four times, and I'm still not 100% happy with how it turned out. But I've finally decided that this is the best it's going to get (in this century, anyhow) so it's getting posted. *grin*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Head bowed, deep in thought, Snape made his way down to his quarters. There had been a short meeting of all the staff, during which Dumbledore had informed them that he had removed the memory block from Seona MacGinty and that what it had revealed had upset her quite badly. They were all to watch out for any signs of abnormal behaviour, etcetera, etcetera.
Just like that. No explanation of what it was that had upset her so much, although the old wizard undoubtedly knew. To make matters worse, the daft old fool had left abruptly when the meeting ended, giving no opportunity for anyone to ask questions. It was still two days before their scheduled advanced potions class, so he would have to wait until then to talk with her privately. Of course, he could always go and find her now and ask... He allowed himself a small smile at the uproar his arrival in the Gryffindor common room would cause. No, he would have to wait until Saturday.
His musings had carried him to the secret door that hid his quarters. His own natural caution made him pause before he reached for the catch that opened it, and in the silence he heard a muffled sound coming from further down the corridor. Wondering who would be down here at this hour, he turned and began walking quietly towards it.
Tracing the sound to an alcove that was sometimes occupied by one of the castle's many suits of armour, he peered into it and found that it was now inhabited by the very student who had been occupying his thoughts moments before. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting on her knees. Her long hair hung around her in an almost solid curtain and contributed somewhat to the muffling of her sobbing. Standing there looking at her, Snape felt a stab of pity for whatever it was that had tormented her to the point where she felt she had to hide in the darkness and cry.
Kneeling carefully in front of her, he reached out a hand and touched her arm. She started violently, looking up with wild panic plain on her face. In hindsight, he realised he should have announced his presence before touching her, since she obviously wasn't in a position to notice much of the environment around her. She had relaxed a bit as she recognised him, and now looked at him with eyes that held a mixture of sorrow and embarrassment. Softly, voice breaking, she murmured, "I didn't think anyone would be down here this late."
"My rooms are down here." He mentally cursed himself for sounding so abrupt, but she didn't seem to have noticed. How did you go about comforting someone, anyway? It had been a very long time since he had dealt with anyone on such a personal level, but he knew that he couldn't just send her back to her dorm. He would just have to hope for the best, he decided. Reaching out again, he took her hand and tugged it gently. "Come, I'll get you something to drink. You will need it if you've been crying for a while."
She rose shakily and followed him back down the corridor. Her feet dragged listlessly against the stone floor, and her whole body seemed to have drawn in upon itself. Snape remembered feeling like that himself many years ago, he reflected as he opened the door to his rooms and led the girl to the couch in front of the fire. The house elves had been in again, he noted absently. For once he wasn't going to complain.
As he made a pot of tea for them, he remarked, "The Headmaster said that he had removed the block from your memory. He said you might be upset by it, but I don't think he had any idea you were this upset." His hand hovered briefly over a calming potion, but he decided to wait. It might do her more good to talk about it.
He was rewarded with a sniffle and a quiet, "No one knew. I came down here so that no one would know." She was sitting staring into the flames, but looked up with a haunted expression as he moved to sit beside her with the tea. "Have you ever woken up, Professor, and realised that you've done something so terrible that you can never forgive yourself?"
"Yes." He spoke softly, but she jerked back as if he had shouted at her. That obviously wasn't an answer she had expected. Maybe this was the way to help her deal with it all: letting her know that she wasn't alone in feeling this way. He baulked for a moment at the thought of sharing his past with someone. Yet he knew somehow, on some strange level, that she wouldn't betray his confidence. Besides, it might be good to talk about it himself. "I caused the deaths of a great many people, both directly and indirectly," he continued. "I was never entirely comfortable with it, but I was always able to find justification in my own mind that it was right and just. But it kept getting harder to find those justifications, and finally I realised that I had been very wrong. It hadn't been right for those people to die. I had been in a position where I could have stopped it, but I did nothing."
"Did you hate yourself?" she asked quietly. He nodded. She appeared to think for a moment, then she spoke again in a voice that was thick with pent-up tears. "Did you want to die too?"
This was a serious question, and he gave it due consideration. He needed to be careful here, or he might end up with another death on his hands. The pain and self-loathing in her voice was something he had never thought to hear from someone so young. Finally he replied, "Sometimes, yes. Sometimes it's hard not to think that it would be so easy if you could just stop. But that won't fix anything. That won't bring anyone else back. I came here instead. I spoke with Albus Dumbledore and told him what I had done. He helped me find ways in which I could make up for what I did, and what I failed to do." He fell silent, waiting to see what her reaction to this would be.
It turned out to be a single sentence in a voice that was as flat an emotionless as any he had ever heard: "I've killed lots of people, too."
Snape sat in stunned silence for a moment, trying to find an appropriate response to this. At last he settled for the safe, "Do you want to tell me about it?"
She simply sat and stared at the fire for a few minutes. The silence stretched out until he considered speaking again just to make sure she was still aware of her surroundings, but she began to speak quietly. "It was during the summer break. I'd been spending a few weeks with this guy I knew from school. He'd just graduated and was all set to take up some high- flying job with the Australian Ministry of Magic. He was brilliant, he was handsome, and he said he was in love with me. He made all these promises, about how he'd make enough of a name for himself that he'd get quick promotions and by the time I graduated he'd have enough money to keep us both living really well, how he'd marry me and we'd have a grand house and all of that sort of thing. I believed him.
"Technically there were a bunch of people on this holiday, mainly friends from his year, one or two from mine. We were staying at his parent's country house... they were fairly well off themselves. He and I managed to slip off for a few days by ourselves to a little cottage at the edge of the property. He said he wanted to show me something. He'd gotten hold of these old books, he said. There were secrets in them that could give us anything we wanted, but he didn't know how to read them. He knew I was always reading, and that I knew a whole bunch of old languages well enough to puzzle them out, so he wanted me to try and translate these old spells.
"I was flattered, naturally. I agreed to try. And I did. Even though just touching those books gave me an uncomfortable feeling, but I wanted to please him. And it did please him when I managed to make sense of them, a bit at a time. After a few days we'd managed to get through most of the work he'd collected. I didn't fully understand what most of it meant, but I had the feeling that it wasn't the sort of thing I ought to be involved with. Yet I didn't want to not be involved, because it was making him so proud of me, that I could help him this way. So proud...
"Finally he said that we should try some of the spells, just to see if we have translated them correctly. He wanted me to try one, said that I was such a good witch that it couldn't possibly go wrong. I didn't want to try, but he insisted. He held me and kissed me and told me everything would turn out OK. He just wanted me to try casting this one spell on our friends in the main house, just for laughs, then I wouldn't have to do any more if I didn't want to. I believed him, and I agreed to do it.
"It was a very complicated spell he had chosen. I almost wasn't surprised that he had asked me to test it instead of him, because if I was being honest with myself I was actually better than him at this sort of magic. So we stood on the hill behind the house and I began to recite the words. I was only halfway through when I realised exactly what sort of spell this was. No, not spell. Curse. It was a curse the like of which I'd never even dreamed existed. Little surprise it was so complex. You wouldn't want someone to just be able to snap it off in an instant. I wanted to stop, but I could feel a build up of power and I wasn't sure if I could stop, or what would happen if I did. So I finished it."
Her voice had slowly risen over the course of her recitation, starting low and detached and working its way up to something just short of hysterical. Now Snape could only stare at her in shock as she broke off and buried her face in her hands, sobbing wildly. What sort of curse was this that she had found? He pushed the thought away and turned his attention back to the girl beside him. What was he supposed to do now? Awkwardly he reached out and put and arm around her shoulders, barely stifling a gasp of surprise when she turned in towards him and buried her face in his shoulder.
It felt strange to sit there and let her cry against him. He tried to keep his mind detached from what was happening, reminding himself that she was a student, and a Gryffindor at that, and therefore none of his concern. Yet in a strange way, it was his concern. He'd grown to respect her, both for her quick mind and the easygoing way she had of assuming that he was a person worth being nice to. To be perfectly honest with himself, he thought wryly, he'd also grown to enjoy her company. She had an almost uncanny ability to find just the right response to his sarcasm that caused him to really have to think fast to come back to. It had been far too long since anyone had made him stretch himself that way.
Her sobs had quieted now, but she didn't seem to be in a hurry to pull away so he let her stay where she was. Soon enough she would have to return to her classmates, people who couldn't possibly hope to understand what she had gone through. Let he take what comfort she could. It was something he could have done with himself, in the days following his realisation of the atrocities he had permitted and been involved in. And, in an odd way, comforting her was also comforting him.
He wasn't sure how long they sat there, but the fire had burned low by the time he looked down and found that his charge had drifted off to sleep. He frowned slightly. Now what? He really ought to wake her and send her back to the tower, but would that be the best course under the circumstances? He doubted that the horror of the memories she had found was going to have disappeared already, so in all probability she wouldn't be able to sleep. Even that potion wouldn't be likely to help.
Snape carefully slid away from her, laying her gently on the couch where he had been sitting. Covering her with the rug that was draped over his armchair, he stood back and watched her for a moment. She looked peaceful, the lines of distress and pain smoothed away in sleep. Only the tear- stained blotchiness of her cheeks gave any hint to what had happened earlier in the night. With the sadness of having been in this position himself, he knew that it would probably get worse for her before it got better.
"Poor child," he whispered softly. Shaking his head, he made his way into the adjoining bedroom to seek his own bed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
REVIEWERS TRIBUTE:
Many Thanks to:
Kawaii Phe chan
Skyfire - OK, I took pity and made this one fairly self-explanetory (I think).
Caytebelle
Little Miss Insane - Dare you to say it's funny now... *grin*
Melanie C - This is probably the most difficult chapter I've written to date. *sigh*
AniMourner
Beth the Fox - OK, I did.
LupinLover
Zephyrel
Author's Note: Major apologies that it took me so long to get this chapter out. It has been written and re-written at least four times, and I'm still not 100% happy with how it turned out. But I've finally decided that this is the best it's going to get (in this century, anyhow) so it's getting posted. *grin*
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Head bowed, deep in thought, Snape made his way down to his quarters. There had been a short meeting of all the staff, during which Dumbledore had informed them that he had removed the memory block from Seona MacGinty and that what it had revealed had upset her quite badly. They were all to watch out for any signs of abnormal behaviour, etcetera, etcetera.
Just like that. No explanation of what it was that had upset her so much, although the old wizard undoubtedly knew. To make matters worse, the daft old fool had left abruptly when the meeting ended, giving no opportunity for anyone to ask questions. It was still two days before their scheduled advanced potions class, so he would have to wait until then to talk with her privately. Of course, he could always go and find her now and ask... He allowed himself a small smile at the uproar his arrival in the Gryffindor common room would cause. No, he would have to wait until Saturday.
His musings had carried him to the secret door that hid his quarters. His own natural caution made him pause before he reached for the catch that opened it, and in the silence he heard a muffled sound coming from further down the corridor. Wondering who would be down here at this hour, he turned and began walking quietly towards it.
Tracing the sound to an alcove that was sometimes occupied by one of the castle's many suits of armour, he peered into it and found that it was now inhabited by the very student who had been occupying his thoughts moments before. She sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting on her knees. Her long hair hung around her in an almost solid curtain and contributed somewhat to the muffling of her sobbing. Standing there looking at her, Snape felt a stab of pity for whatever it was that had tormented her to the point where she felt she had to hide in the darkness and cry.
Kneeling carefully in front of her, he reached out a hand and touched her arm. She started violently, looking up with wild panic plain on her face. In hindsight, he realised he should have announced his presence before touching her, since she obviously wasn't in a position to notice much of the environment around her. She had relaxed a bit as she recognised him, and now looked at him with eyes that held a mixture of sorrow and embarrassment. Softly, voice breaking, she murmured, "I didn't think anyone would be down here this late."
"My rooms are down here." He mentally cursed himself for sounding so abrupt, but she didn't seem to have noticed. How did you go about comforting someone, anyway? It had been a very long time since he had dealt with anyone on such a personal level, but he knew that he couldn't just send her back to her dorm. He would just have to hope for the best, he decided. Reaching out again, he took her hand and tugged it gently. "Come, I'll get you something to drink. You will need it if you've been crying for a while."
She rose shakily and followed him back down the corridor. Her feet dragged listlessly against the stone floor, and her whole body seemed to have drawn in upon itself. Snape remembered feeling like that himself many years ago, he reflected as he opened the door to his rooms and led the girl to the couch in front of the fire. The house elves had been in again, he noted absently. For once he wasn't going to complain.
As he made a pot of tea for them, he remarked, "The Headmaster said that he had removed the block from your memory. He said you might be upset by it, but I don't think he had any idea you were this upset." His hand hovered briefly over a calming potion, but he decided to wait. It might do her more good to talk about it.
He was rewarded with a sniffle and a quiet, "No one knew. I came down here so that no one would know." She was sitting staring into the flames, but looked up with a haunted expression as he moved to sit beside her with the tea. "Have you ever woken up, Professor, and realised that you've done something so terrible that you can never forgive yourself?"
"Yes." He spoke softly, but she jerked back as if he had shouted at her. That obviously wasn't an answer she had expected. Maybe this was the way to help her deal with it all: letting her know that she wasn't alone in feeling this way. He baulked for a moment at the thought of sharing his past with someone. Yet he knew somehow, on some strange level, that she wouldn't betray his confidence. Besides, it might be good to talk about it himself. "I caused the deaths of a great many people, both directly and indirectly," he continued. "I was never entirely comfortable with it, but I was always able to find justification in my own mind that it was right and just. But it kept getting harder to find those justifications, and finally I realised that I had been very wrong. It hadn't been right for those people to die. I had been in a position where I could have stopped it, but I did nothing."
"Did you hate yourself?" she asked quietly. He nodded. She appeared to think for a moment, then she spoke again in a voice that was thick with pent-up tears. "Did you want to die too?"
This was a serious question, and he gave it due consideration. He needed to be careful here, or he might end up with another death on his hands. The pain and self-loathing in her voice was something he had never thought to hear from someone so young. Finally he replied, "Sometimes, yes. Sometimes it's hard not to think that it would be so easy if you could just stop. But that won't fix anything. That won't bring anyone else back. I came here instead. I spoke with Albus Dumbledore and told him what I had done. He helped me find ways in which I could make up for what I did, and what I failed to do." He fell silent, waiting to see what her reaction to this would be.
It turned out to be a single sentence in a voice that was as flat an emotionless as any he had ever heard: "I've killed lots of people, too."
Snape sat in stunned silence for a moment, trying to find an appropriate response to this. At last he settled for the safe, "Do you want to tell me about it?"
She simply sat and stared at the fire for a few minutes. The silence stretched out until he considered speaking again just to make sure she was still aware of her surroundings, but she began to speak quietly. "It was during the summer break. I'd been spending a few weeks with this guy I knew from school. He'd just graduated and was all set to take up some high- flying job with the Australian Ministry of Magic. He was brilliant, he was handsome, and he said he was in love with me. He made all these promises, about how he'd make enough of a name for himself that he'd get quick promotions and by the time I graduated he'd have enough money to keep us both living really well, how he'd marry me and we'd have a grand house and all of that sort of thing. I believed him.
"Technically there were a bunch of people on this holiday, mainly friends from his year, one or two from mine. We were staying at his parent's country house... they were fairly well off themselves. He and I managed to slip off for a few days by ourselves to a little cottage at the edge of the property. He said he wanted to show me something. He'd gotten hold of these old books, he said. There were secrets in them that could give us anything we wanted, but he didn't know how to read them. He knew I was always reading, and that I knew a whole bunch of old languages well enough to puzzle them out, so he wanted me to try and translate these old spells.
"I was flattered, naturally. I agreed to try. And I did. Even though just touching those books gave me an uncomfortable feeling, but I wanted to please him. And it did please him when I managed to make sense of them, a bit at a time. After a few days we'd managed to get through most of the work he'd collected. I didn't fully understand what most of it meant, but I had the feeling that it wasn't the sort of thing I ought to be involved with. Yet I didn't want to not be involved, because it was making him so proud of me, that I could help him this way. So proud...
"Finally he said that we should try some of the spells, just to see if we have translated them correctly. He wanted me to try one, said that I was such a good witch that it couldn't possibly go wrong. I didn't want to try, but he insisted. He held me and kissed me and told me everything would turn out OK. He just wanted me to try casting this one spell on our friends in the main house, just for laughs, then I wouldn't have to do any more if I didn't want to. I believed him, and I agreed to do it.
"It was a very complicated spell he had chosen. I almost wasn't surprised that he had asked me to test it instead of him, because if I was being honest with myself I was actually better than him at this sort of magic. So we stood on the hill behind the house and I began to recite the words. I was only halfway through when I realised exactly what sort of spell this was. No, not spell. Curse. It was a curse the like of which I'd never even dreamed existed. Little surprise it was so complex. You wouldn't want someone to just be able to snap it off in an instant. I wanted to stop, but I could feel a build up of power and I wasn't sure if I could stop, or what would happen if I did. So I finished it."
Her voice had slowly risen over the course of her recitation, starting low and detached and working its way up to something just short of hysterical. Now Snape could only stare at her in shock as she broke off and buried her face in her hands, sobbing wildly. What sort of curse was this that she had found? He pushed the thought away and turned his attention back to the girl beside him. What was he supposed to do now? Awkwardly he reached out and put and arm around her shoulders, barely stifling a gasp of surprise when she turned in towards him and buried her face in his shoulder.
It felt strange to sit there and let her cry against him. He tried to keep his mind detached from what was happening, reminding himself that she was a student, and a Gryffindor at that, and therefore none of his concern. Yet in a strange way, it was his concern. He'd grown to respect her, both for her quick mind and the easygoing way she had of assuming that he was a person worth being nice to. To be perfectly honest with himself, he thought wryly, he'd also grown to enjoy her company. She had an almost uncanny ability to find just the right response to his sarcasm that caused him to really have to think fast to come back to. It had been far too long since anyone had made him stretch himself that way.
Her sobs had quieted now, but she didn't seem to be in a hurry to pull away so he let her stay where she was. Soon enough she would have to return to her classmates, people who couldn't possibly hope to understand what she had gone through. Let he take what comfort she could. It was something he could have done with himself, in the days following his realisation of the atrocities he had permitted and been involved in. And, in an odd way, comforting her was also comforting him.
He wasn't sure how long they sat there, but the fire had burned low by the time he looked down and found that his charge had drifted off to sleep. He frowned slightly. Now what? He really ought to wake her and send her back to the tower, but would that be the best course under the circumstances? He doubted that the horror of the memories she had found was going to have disappeared already, so in all probability she wouldn't be able to sleep. Even that potion wouldn't be likely to help.
Snape carefully slid away from her, laying her gently on the couch where he had been sitting. Covering her with the rug that was draped over his armchair, he stood back and watched her for a moment. She looked peaceful, the lines of distress and pain smoothed away in sleep. Only the tear- stained blotchiness of her cheeks gave any hint to what had happened earlier in the night. With the sadness of having been in this position himself, he knew that it would probably get worse for her before it got better.
"Poor child," he whispered softly. Shaking his head, he made his way into the adjoining bedroom to seek his own bed.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
REVIEWERS TRIBUTE:
Many Thanks to:
Kawaii Phe chan
Skyfire - OK, I took pity and made this one fairly self-explanetory (I think).
Caytebelle
Little Miss Insane - Dare you to say it's funny now... *grin*
Melanie C - This is probably the most difficult chapter I've written to date. *sigh*
AniMourner
Beth the Fox - OK, I did.
LupinLover
Zephyrel