A/N: I do not own HP. Duh! Something we all know. ;) This is my first HP fic actually. I was kinda afraid to delve into it because I didn't feel I had any ideas good enough for it. This one kinda came to me out of the blue. It has probably been done before but I hope mine is a bit different. Snape is a little out of character but when you read the story I think you'll understand why. Either way please give me your opinion on it. Reviews are a good thing. ;) Hope you all in enjoy it.
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It was late in the evening, as she walked down the cold dungeon corridors. Her foot steps echoed eerily off the wall. It was completely silent down there at this hour. There were no students moving about or talking on their way to potions class. Few students ever ventured down into the dungeons other than when forced to for potions class. They did not want to be around Professor Snape longer than was required, and for good reason. Snape loved to harass the students by scaring them out of their wits, deducting points for any reason imaginable, and giving all of them tons of homework. He was head of Slytherin house so he usually went easier on the Slytherin students but they still didn't get off that easy. It was just Snape that made it unpleasant to come down here. The dungeons held a dark, foreboding feel that did not invite one to stay down there long. This was her first time coming down here by herself. She would not admit it but she was scared.
Yet, the Ravenclaw 6th year had come down there, because she had forgotten her homework for the next class. She did not wish to turn it in late and spoil her good marks simply because she had been to absentminded to remember it. So far through the school year she had been on Snape's "good-side" by turning things in on time, doing her potions perfectly every time, and paying attention in class. She loved potions and hoped to pursue a career with it someday. She could not afford to get a bad mark. It would not be good if she ended up on Snape's "bad side" because she needed his good word for later career pursuits.
So here she was, negotiating the dark corridors, heading towards the potions classroom. She hated the dark; it made her uneasy and skittish. She was praying that Snape would be elsewhere when she made it to the classroom. If he found her down here she was sure it would not be a very pleasant experience. He might possibly deduct points just because she forgot her homework or simply because she had disturbed him. She could not risk anymore house points, Ravenclaw was already behind as it was. She might even end up getting detention with Filch. The very thought made her shudder with disgust. She paused in front of the classroom door, and took a deep breath.
Oh, please don't let Snape be in there, she begged silently.
She heard a scraping sound farther along the corridor and jumped. She shook her head, as a house elf scurried by her murmuring apologies, having just finished cleaning up some remote area in one of the other dungeon rooms. She forced herself to relax. This wasn't a big deal! So why was she getting jumpy? She just felt uneasy down here. She sensed something was wrong or out of place. She hoped to just grab her homework, and get out of there quickly.
She composed herself, and knocked softly on the door. Better not take any chances if he was in there. She waited a full minute and tried again. When no one answered another moment later, she shrugged and took as a sign that he was not there. She relaxed visibly and opened the door. She slunk quietly inside, glancing around then froze.
Snape was standing, half hunched over his desk as still as a statue mostly hidden by the deep shadows in the room. Her sense of some thing being wrong grew steadily. He did not seem to realize that she was there. In her shock, she had forgotten about the door. She seemed to be doing a lot of forgetting lately. It swung back on its hinges and slammed shut. The sound was loud enough to disturb the unnatural silence and alert him that he was no longer alone.
Snape turned slowly around to face her. His dark, piercing eyes found hers and held her like a mouse in a trap. She felt as though her legs had been turned to stone. He was still half shrouded in the shadows, giving him a sinister look. The glint in his eyes was clear even from the little light from the candles. It sent shivers of fear through her. Neither moved, nor seemed to breathe.
She noticed that his face was deathly pale, much more so than normal. His disheveled raven black hair hung like a limp curtain over part of face obscuring his features. Still she could make out the thin lipped scowl on his face and see the tension in his jaw. His whole stance was tense, cold, and unwelcoming. She could see him clutching his left wrist with it tucked up against him. Something was very, very wrong.
"Ms. Raissa….," his voice was low and a bit raspy with a dark undertone that put her on the edge.
He had called her by her first name. He never did that to anyone, not even the other professors. She stared at him wide eyed, wishing she had never come down here. She felt out of place and like she had intruded in on something unpleasant.
"Pro-Professor Snape…I…uh…I forgot my homewo….," she stammered and trailed off.
Her eyes had caught sight of a strange glistening on his hands in the candle light. A thin trail of red was streaming down his hands from between his fingers and dripping on to the floor. She followed the dripping to the small puddle on the floor, where it shimmered grotesquely in the weak candle light. She gawked down at it, knowing but not wanting to believe what it was. It was blood. His blood.
She felt a shudder run through her. Her eyes flew up to meet his again. He glared back at her, challengingly, but in those depthless, dark eyes she could see the pain reflected in them.
"Professor?" she whispered, finding her voice, and took a step forward despite her fear.
His eyes took on a look of rage that stopped her in her tracks. Yet, the look did not stay long before it was replaced by pain once more. He swayed slightly as he shifted his gaze down to the wrist he was clutching to his chest. She threw all fear and caution to the wind and ran to him, grabbing his arm as he staggered into the desk. He tried to shake her off but she refused to let go of him. She pried savagely at his fingers to pull them off his wrist. She felt a wave of nausea as she stared down at what she had discovered. The underside of his wrist was sliced open in a nasty gash that gushing blood in a small river.
She glanced up at him, and quelled under the defiant, angry look he gave her. She forgot for a moment why she had risked his wrath. What was she doing here? She felt scared and helpless once again. She saw a gleam of metal on his desk, and looked over to see a short, wicked looking knife lying there soaked in his blood. Her mouth fell open in shock at the sharp blade. What had he done?
"You did this to yourself?" she asked in a small voice.
"Yes," his voice was thick with pain and emotion.
She was stunned. "Why?"
He did not answer her; she hadn't really expected him to. She kept one hand clamped on his wounded wrist, trying desperately to stop the blood flow as she dug through her cloak pockets with her free hand. Her searching fingers found a rumpled hand kerchief in one pocket. She pulled it out and began to wrap it tightly around his wrist.
"What are you doing!?" he growled, venomously, struggling to pull his arm out of her grasp.
"Hold still!" she snapped, fiercely, and much to her amazement he did. The tone of her voice had surprised him. It had been a long time since he'd had someone talk to him that way. She glanced up seeing the startled, agitated expression on his face. She took advantage of his confusion, quickly steering him around the desk to his chair. She shoved him gently down into it. He blinked a few times surprised by the sudden shift of positions.
"I don't know why you did this, Professor, but I'm not gonna let you die because of your own foolishness," she finished wrapping his wrist.
She had sounded just like her mother for a moment. Had she just said that to a professor? And not just any but the one that took pleasure in dealing out harsh punishments to those that even dared cross him. Who was she to do such? She was acting twice her age when inside she felt like a frightened little girl. She couldn't believe the pluck she had just shown towards him. They both seemed a little taken aback by her words.
She was snapped out of her thoughts by the warm feel of blood on her fingers. His wrist was still seeping blood at an alarming rate. It was leaking through the kerchief and staining her hands. She felt panic grip her, as she pressed down on the wrist just above the wound. This couldn't be happening to her!
Why had he done this!?
His breathing had become slow and ragged. His eyes had become glassy as he stared down at his wrist. There was a look in his eyes that made her want to run from him. He seemed very near losing consciousness.
"Professor? Professor Snape?" she shook him, hoping to snap him out of it. He didn't respond. She thought frantically of something that would make him listen to her. "Severus!" the name leapt out of her mouth before she could stop it.
He blinked and raised his eyes to hers. She took a deep breath, feeling relief sweep through her. He needed more help than she could give him. She was reluctant to leave him like this, but else could she do?
"I've got to go get Madam Pomfrey," she told him, quietly.
She gently let go of his wrist, and turned to run out of the room. His right hand shot up with surprising speed to clamp down on her wrist. His grip was like a vice, jerking back towards him. She spun back to face him, astonished and not sure what to do.
"Professor, please let me go. I have to get help," she pleaded, panic rising in her voice, as she pried at his fingers.
He seemed not to even see her. His eyes had taken on a dazed look. "Severus," he murmured to himself. "No one ever calls me that but Dumbledore. Only my mother used to ever call me that."
She paused in her struggles, staring at him. He went on in a soft voice that sent chills through her.
"I killed her, you know," he stated blandly. "I did it, because Voldemort told me too. It was how we were showed him complete loyalty when we first became Death Eaters."
She swallowed hard, listening with horrified fascination. She had heard from one of her Slytherin friends that Snape had once been a Death Eater but she had not thought to long on it. She figured he must be ok if he was being allowed to teach at Hogwarts. Now the reality of this truth scared her. She had never wanted to think to much about it. She did not like knowing that such evil had and still did exist in the world. Yes it was naïve of her but she couldn't help it.
"I can still see the fear and horror in her eyes as she died. I can still feel the blood," he paused, pulling her closer. She came to him, reluctantly, wanting nothing more than to get away from him now. His glazed, haunted eyes found hers and held them. "I still hear her screams. Hers and the others. The screams of the girls I ravished then murdered some of them no older than you. Most of them just innocent muggles. I can still smell their fear."
She felt her throat closing up and tears welling up in her eyes. He was a monster. A murderer. He had done appalling things. What had made him do such things? Why had he ever wanted to join Voldemort? For the power? It made her sick just thinking about it. She tried to make him let go of her once more, but he would not.
"I was a fool to listen to Voldemort," Snape hissed, his fist tightening on her wrist.
Tears sprang to her eyes, as his fingers dug into her shooting pain up her arm. He was hurting her without even realizing it.
"I want to die," he whispered in an emotionless tone that turned her blood to ice. "I should pay for the sins I've committed. If I were a muggle you know I would have been put to death by now. I deserve to die."
"No…," she whispered, her voice thick. Tears streamed freely down her face now. "Please stop…."
"I do," he didn't seem to hear her. "I wish I could change every wrong decision that I made. So I could take back the pain. If I could take it all back I would, but I can't."
She was trembling now and crying freely. "Please, Professor, let me go!"
She couldn't bear to hear anymore. She had to get away from him. She knew know why he had tried to kill himself. She had stopped him from getting his other wrist. He was ashamed and disgraced by the things he had done. She did not want to think about it anymore. She had to get away. She felt like she was suffocating. She couldn't' think clearly. She begged him to let her go, but he seemed caught up in a trance like state brought on by his own horrific memories.
"Please…Severus," she gasped, using anything to make him focus on her.
He blinked again, and his eyes seemed to clear. His hand dropped from her wrist. Blood rushed back into her nearly numb fingers and her hand throbbed painfully. Angry bruises were already appearing on her skin from his finger prints. She backed away from him, snatching up the knife so he could not use it again. Then she turned and dashed out of the room, then away down the corridor. She kept running, blood pounding in her ears and chest heaving with each breath she took. She clinched the knife in her hand as she ran. Kids jumped out of her way, as she raced by, in fear. Tears still coursed down her face, blurring vision. She ran all the way to the hospital wing and threw the door open with a loud bang.
She leaned against the doorway, shaking from fear and exhaustion, gasping for breath. Madam Pomfrey whirled about in surprise. Her hand flew up to her mouth as she caught sight of Raissa standing there covered in blood and holding a vile looking knife. Raissa hung onto the door frame as though it was the only thing keeping her from collapsing. She let the knife fall from her nerveless fingers. It clattered to the floor, gleaming evilly in the light still soaked in blood. She stared back at the medi-witch for a long moment without saying anything for a moment.
"Professor Snape," she whispered, when she had caught her breath somewhat.
Madam Pomfrey looked sick. "What did he do to you!? If he hurt you….! I kept telling Dumbledore that man was not to be trusted!"
"No…," she shook her head, trying to make the medi-witch listen to her. "It's him. He needs help! He…He slit his wrist!"
This news made Pomfrey blanch and turn a shade paler. She got over her shock quickly and leapt into action. She snatched up her medicine bag, and ran to her cupboard. She began to madly shove bottles, bandages, and the like into her bag. At the same time she hurled questions at Raissa, trying to figure out what happened. Raissa tried to answer as best as she could but felt as if she were being of little help.
"Where is he? How bad is it?" Pomfrey asked.
"He's down in the potions classroom where I left him. It was still bleeding very badly when I came to get you," she replied.
"Come on!" Madam Pomfrey grabbed her by the arm, and whirled her about.
Pomfrey steered her back down toward the dungeons, the last place she wanted to be at again. They hurried down the halls, scattering students once more. Some of the students were the same ones Raissa had seen before. They were all giving them curious, weird looks. The medi-witch shouted at a Hufflepuff prefect to go get Dumbledore and send him down to the dungeons. The prefect took off at a run and the other students began to whisper loudly as they swept by. What could possibly be going on?
Pomfrey continued down toward the dungeons with out even noticing the other students. She had only one thing on her mind, and that was getting to Snape. She stormed down the corridors like a whirl wind. All Raissa could do was scramble along behind in her wake, trying to keep up with her fury pace. There was no stopping the medi-witch when she got like this. Madam Pomfrey barged into the potions classroom, and paused mid-step. Raissa skidded to a halt, nearly knocking the medi-witch over. She peeked around Pomfrey's shoulder to see Snape slumped over on his desk, wrist laying before him on the desk and blood pooling around it. The blood was crawling ever closer to Snape's face as though trying to reach out and consume him.
"Oh, Professor Snape!" Pomfrey gasped, rushing over to him.
She pushed him back up against the back of his chair. His face was white and his breathing shallow. He seemed to have passed out, except the fact that his eyes were still wide open and glassy. It was creepy to see him sitting her so motionless like that. Pomfrey tried to revive him with little luck. He remained staring straight ahead. Raissa had never seen the medi-witch look this worried and sick at the same time. She didn't think Pomfrey had ever had to deal with a suicide case.
Raissa hung back, feeling helpless and unwilling to get involved again. She knew that Pomfrey would not be able to wake him. He would not listen to Pomfrey. He had listened to her though. She didn't know why but maybe he would now. She felt her legs carrying her forward without her telling them to. She soon found herself at Snape's side once more, and reached out, touching his arm. Snape stirred slightly and blinked.
"Severus," she whispered, using the name she knew he would respond to.
He blinked yet again, and the glassy look faded a little. "So much blood," he murmured, staring down at the blood on the desk with a morbid gleam in his eyes.
Madam Pomfrey sighed in relief that he was at least aware now. She immediately went to work on his wrist. He did not even notice her, his eyes were fixed on Raissa. Raissa didn't know what to do. Pomfrey waved at her to keep him talking. If he passed out again he would probably not wake up again. He had lost to much blood. Don't let him pass out, Pomfrey mouthed at her. She nodded in understanding.
"Professor," she murmured, shaking him gently.
"Severus," he corrected, absently.
She gaped at him in astonishment. He wanted her to call him Severus. She had only done it before because it was the only thing he seemed to respond to. She felt an odd sort of honor, yet strangeness in being allowed to call him by his first name with his permission. It was just so unlike him. She was sure once he was well again he would kill her if she did. That thought brought a smile to her face.
"Severus," she repeated with a smile. "Don't die on us."
"I deserve to," he answered in raspy voice. "Forgiveness is not given to those who murder innocent people."
He kept his eyes looked on her. Her face and her voice was the only thing keeping him aware.
"No…no, you don't deserve to die. You are wrong," she told him, vehemently. "Everyone makes mistakes in their lives." Once again she was acting much older than she felt. She wondered how she kept doing that.
Snape shook his head slowly with a chilling smile that seemed to make her blood run cold.
"Where would Hogwarts be with out its potions master?" Pomfrey remarked, pouring a potion over his wrist. The wound began to fizzle and the blood stopped an instant later. She began to wrap it carefully with a fresh bandage.
He ignored Pomfrey and remained concentrated on Raissa. Raissa glanced over at Pomfrey, and the medi-witch shrugged just as confused as her. Why was he so focused on her? What was it about her?
"Listen to me, Severus!" Raissa snapped, when he seemed to be close to unconsciousness again.
He did.
"You are a good man. Do not die on us. I forgive you," she whispered, fervently, feeling tears falling anew from down her face.
His dark eyes seemed to pierce through her right down into her soul. She felt like he could see right through her and was examining her. He nodded, slightly, and a new light came back into his eyes. A strange look that she had never seen before. Pomfrey forced him to drink a sleeping draught that would dull the pain as well. He was stable enough now that the medi-witch was sure he would be just fine. He closed his eyes and his whole body relaxed. He slipped away into the depths of sleep, away from the pain and into peaceful unawareness.
"Well, I think he'll be just fine now," Pomfrey sighed in relief.
"Yes, Poppy, I think he will be just fine now," a raspy, wizened old voice said behind them.
Both looked up to see Professor Dumbledore standing there, hands folded in his sleeves.
"Professor!" Raissa jumped up.
Dumbledore patted the air in a soothing manner. "Calm down, Raissa. What happened here?"
Raissa swallowed, wiping the tears from her eyes. She told him all that had taken place. He listened with the gentle patience he was known for and did not interrupt her once. When she had finished she felt completely drained of energy. All she wanted to do was go to her nice, warm bed and sleep. Maybe when she woke up this would all just be a bad dream.
"I'm proud of you, Raissa," Dumbledore smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling. "You were very brave tonight."
"Professor?"
"Yes?"
She looked down at the blood staining her hands. "Do you know why he did this tonight?"
"Tonight was the anniversary of his mother's death. I had hoped he was recovered enough from that tragedy, but I was wrong. The pain is still to strong for him. I should have known better," Dumbledore sighed. "I'm glad you found him or else we may have not had our potions master tomorrow morning."
She looked back at Snape with sadness in her eyes that did not escape the medi-witch's notice.
"You did a great service to him tonight," Pomfrey touched her shoulder. "He needed someone and you were courageous enough to stay with him. I know of few others who would have done so."
Raissa gave her a weak smile. Pomfrey gently steered her toward the door. "Go get some rest, dear. You've earned it."
Raissa nodded and walked away down the hall. She could not forget what had happened though. That night would be forever remembered in her mind. The things he had told her would always haunt her. She had not lied when she said she forgave him but that did not mean she could so easily let go of the nightmares he had exposed her to. Her mind was a confused mess of tangled thoughts. But one kept coming back to her. What was it about her that had made him listen? Why her? Would she ever know the answer to that question? It seemed unlikely. She wondered if life could ever go back to normal after this. Would potions class be the same? Would he treat her any differently? She doubted that. Still she would never forget that he had asked her to call him Severus. That was probably the only time he had ever asked anyone to call him that.
She wondered down the corridor, lost in her thoughts. Then she stopped suddenly. She had forgotten the one thing she had gone down there for in the first place. The whole problem that had gotten her involved in this crisis.
Her homework.
The end.
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