Chapter Three – Absolution

Severus remembered the winding path up to the castle with a greater clarity than he had expected. Once he'd taken the first step it was as if he had become a student again, sneaking back to the castle after some midnight adventure. The trees, scattered stones, and the worn path itself seemed exactly the same as they had ever been. The same sounds echoed across the dark grounds, and the castle still looked like a dream itself, lit up against the night sky. Even now, with nothing but dark thoughts circling through his mind, the sight of it brought a lightness to his heart. Everything but his eyes told him one thing and on thing only about the sight before him--and that was that he had finally come home.

            The halls were quiet as he entered the castle, the front doors opening as if he was a welcomed guest. The torches all flickered to life as he made his way through the winding hallways, and the paintings he passed all watched him silently, shifting uneasily in their frames as if they could see through the cloth of his robe to the monstrous mark burnt into the flesh of his arm. Even the gargoyle forewent formality and leapt aside at the sight of him, revealing the spiraling staircase beyond that suddenly seemed longer than ever before.

            At the top of the staircase, he paused, face as pale as new-fallen snow, as he stared at the dark oaken door as if hidden behind were all the unspoken horrors of the world. And then, after sucking in a deep breath, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. The sound echoed several times through the emptiness of the night, or perhaps it was merely his imagination, and the door creaked slowly open.

            "Severus Snape?" the old, strangely wakeful voice of the headmaster inquired. He was clad in deep purple robes decorated with many shining golden stars, with a matching pointed nightcap perched atop his silver hair.

            "Evening, Headmaster," Severus replied, not quite able to look the older wizard in the eyes. But Dumbledore only smiled and waved Severus into the office with one age-worn hand.

            "Please, have a seat, dear boy. I was just about to have some tea. Would you care for a cup?" Albus asked, the perfect picture of calm as he motioned toward a chair with a cup already set beside it. Only then, as he took his seat in the chair and considered the tea, did he realize just how horribly he was shaking. His hands looked pale and skeletal as he curled them tightly around the arms of the chair, struggling to hide the tremors still coursing through his body.

            "Thank you, Headmaster. I apologize for the lateness of the hour…." Severus began, at last meeting Dumbledore's gaze as he offered him an apologetic glance.

            "Think nothing of it. I am usually up quite late, and I never refuse a visit from a former student," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling just as merrily as they always had. "However, I sense that this is more than simply a social visit." Severus stiffened at the last, conscious of the nervous sweat that had begun trickling down his brow.

            "That...that would be correct, Headmaster," Severus stuttered, somehow more intimidated by Dumbledore's knowing stare than he'd ever been by any aspect of the Dark Lord.

            "Then what is it that I can do for you, Severus?"

            In one swift motion Severus rose to his feet, knelt before the Headmaster, bared and outstretched his left arm like a silent offering. Dumbledore neither moved nor spoke, and Severus' hardened gaze never left the floor before him.

            "I have destroyed the life my mother gave me, Headmaster. I've come with the hope that you, perhaps, could find a better use for it than I," he said hoarsely, his mind and body strangely still, frozen in his offering. Dumbledore remained standing before him, his presence both like the harsh, condemning jury and that of a benevolent deity.

            "You are aware of the consequences for what you have done," the Headmaster spoke at last, the words ringing soft yet prevalent in the suddenly tiny office. Severus lowered his arm to the floor, his head still bowed in admission.

            "Yes. Death, Azkaban, and an eternity existing soulless--I've come with full knowledge of my fate," he acknowledged, swallowing to wet his parched throat. It was suddenly as if he was a small child again, crouched before his father after having been caught after some travesty or another.

            "Why?" Albus asked, and his voice sounded pained, tinged with an emotion that was quite possibly guilt. And Severus paused, considering the man before him before finding the strength to answer. Why would Dumbledore feel guilt, he wondered. Why would the ancient man feel guilty for the decisions that Severus himself had made?

            "Because I am weary of death, and pain, and seeing people who were once my friends cut down like beasts at a slaughter. Once the vision of the world the Dark Lord seeks was enough...but I realize now that nothing is worth the price that would be paid for it. The cost is already far too high," Severus admitted softly, his voice almost breaking at the last. There were too many faces in his mind, too many voices of people who had died for no reason save for the careless whims of one man, and the blindness of his followers.

            "Then, dear boy, you have realized that such a world is not possible, for by the end there would be none left to live in it," Dumbledore said icily, and Severus could only guess at the atrocities that Dumbledore himself had seen in his lifetime. If Voldemort was evil incarnate, then Grindelwald had been the devil himself, and Dumbledore had slain that creature himself.

            "I have," Severus whispered in reply, his tension easing in the older wizards strangely comforting presence. But at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder at the trust the man was putting in him.

            "You have been marked forever, Severus, that is not something can be easily be undone," Dumbledore said as he leaned back against his desk, his eyes never ones moving from Severus still form. It was then that he saw the bright orange and yellow plumage out of the corner of his eyes. Fawkes the phoenix was sitting happily on his perch, black eyes focused on the scene with vague disinterest. Ah, Severus thought, of course. A phoenix would never allow anyone untrustworthy near its master. Raising his head at last, Severus cast his gaze first to the phoenix and then to Dumbledore.

            "I don't ask for freedom or forgiveness, my life is already forfeit. My life is now yours to do with as you please," he said firmly. The Headmaster seemed surprised at first, but then nodded in understanding.

            "Then I believe I do have a use for it,"