A/N: I don't have much to say. I got this idea after reading one of the many, many stories I read... But I think this one was called "You Gotta Breathe." I don't remember who wrote it. It wasn't really anything in particular about the fic itself, but she/he kinda had Snape as almost human, one of the only times I'd read it and NOT been reading an HG/SS fic (or a supporter of those, like sorceress). It got me to thinking about how maybe, just maybe, there was a very simple reason that Severus had turned to the Dark Lord...
Disclaimer: I don't own Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy, Star Wars, or Voldemort a.k.a. He Who Must Not Be Named a.k.a. the Dark Lord. Live with it.
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Severus shivered almost unconsciously, despite the heavy black cloak he wore, following Lucius to their destination: a dark, quiet graveyard. He couldn't believe that he was doing this, doing what his family had campaigned against for so long, doing what his teachers would detest, doing what Professor Dumbledore…
The black-haired boy of eighteen shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts from his mind. It was too late to back out now anyhow. He had already decided—he would enter the service of the Dark Lord, of He Who Must Not Be Named.
It was all thanks to that blasted Potter, the Golden Boy, pride of Professor McGonagall, who would never stop gushing about how marvelous it was to win the Quidditch and House Cups two, then three, then four years in a row… Pride of Professor Dumbledore, who, although he never did so as vocally as McGonagall, was obviously proud of his young protégé, the great grandson of one of his closest friends. And it wasn't as though James Potter was faultless.
No, Potter had been a troublemaker, right along with Sirius Black, whose handsomeness even the Slytherin girls couldn't shut up about. Both dark and dangerous, which was exactly how the girls wanted them. One of the things that had surprised Severus was that despite having had devotees in every house, he had chosen Lily Evans, a Muggleborn from his own house, to fall in love with, date, and, no doubt, marry.
Meanwhile, he, Severus Snape, had been kept in the shadows. He had stayed with his potions, lamenting about lost circumstances, promises, and possibilities. It had seemed that no matter what he did, Potter would always outshadow him. Potter had joined the Quidditch team as a Chaser in his third year, and after that the Gryffindors hadn't lost a match, despite their admittedly bad Seeker.
Severus, who joined the Slytherin team in his fourth year, had always been a good flyer. Hell, forget good—he had been wonderful. He probably would have been able to make it into professional Quidditch…
Had it not been for James Potter.
James Potter was the cause of everything he did. He was the reason he got up in the morning, because no matter how bad he felt, he couldn't stop fighting. He had to stay and get up, if only to face Potter again and again.
Potter was the reason that he worked late into the night on his assignments, even when he was still fatigued from the last night.
Potter was the reason he had scored so high on his OWLs—and yet, not high enough to beat Potter. No, never good enough to beat him.
Potter was the reason he had qualified to study Potions at an advanced laboratory at the Ministry… It was perhaps the only thing Potter had not done. But he knew that, had Potter tried, the Gryffindor would have beaten him, if only because it was the way of the world.
Even this was being done for Potter, in a round-a-bout sort of way.
Severus was brought back to the present by an almost feral hiss, and he jumped unwillingly. Looking for the origin of the sound, he shivered.
"Scared, Severus?" a silky voice asked.
The Slytherin looked into the face from which the voice had originated. "Of course not, Lucius," Severus said, albeit with a bit of fear embedded—very deeply—into his voice.
Lucius raised one pristine blond brow. "Oh," was all he said. The blond turned around and began walking again. Suddenly, he came to a stop and sunk to his knees, his head down. "My lord," the twenty-five-year-old man purred, and Severus gasped as the Dark Lord came into view.
He wasn't anything like the press had described him. From Yvette Skeeter's reporting, he had expected a monster with two heads and fangs coming out of its eyes… And yet, it looked almost human.
Almost.
There was a hiss from nearer the ground, and Severus gasped again, this time a bit softer. It was a snake. Severus shivered, again. He hated snakes. Oh, he might have been a Slytherin, but it didn't have to make him like snakes.
"Nagini," the Dark Lord purred, his scaly hand rubbing softly against the reptile's head. His own head was hidden within his dark black coat, unseen in the shadows. Had Severus been a Muggle movie-watcher, he would have said the Dark Lord looked like the Emperor from Star Wars. "So," he said, drawing himself to his full height, "we have a new initiate tonight, do we not, Lucius?"
"We do, my lord," Lucius purred.
As the Dark Lord lifted his head to gaze at Severus, the black-haired young man, no more than a boy really, had to remember why he was here.
This was the only thing that James Potter would never, could never, have. Power.
And that was all that mattered.
~fin~