I've done
Disclaimer: You know, JK's, not mine.
I'm still alive! Sadly, Thievery has hit a rut, and I'm slowly but surely forcing my way out of it. But, until then, I thought I'd introduce this, a short spate from Snape's point of view. The first bit of it, up until the star, I actually used for an English story (though I never handed it in, come to think of it.) I'm sorry for the shortness, and Thievery will get somewhere eventually.
~/*\~/*\~/*\~
What have I done?
Oh God - there is blood. It's on my hands; and they're lying there, barely breathing.
What have I done?
"I'm sorry - are you all right muggle?" There's no answer, other than a choked sound. They are crying - I am crying. The tears are washing all the blood off of my hands now, so that it runs in a pinkish stream along the puddled ground. Such a soft colour for such a harsh reality. I did this. I'm a monster. Maybe if I just heal you, I can reverse it - yes, good idea.
Where's my wand gotten to? It was here only a moment ago - aha, there it is - it must have rolled when they tried to kick it away.
Wait; the others will be watching. If they see me... I'll be no better off than the muggle.
I'm paralysed. What shall I do? Heal and die, or kill and live? My conscience is crying and my inner demons are laughing, and I'm so confused now, what do I do?
Green light - harsh words uttered loudly somewhere near. They twitch, and then fall completely still, still forever. Good. Now they're out of their misery, and I am out of mine at long last. The others won't have to see me kill, or see me fail.
See me kill... NO!
What have I done? It was me! I did it, I killed! Without knowing... innocent blood is on my hands. No, no, I take it back, come back to life muggle. I'll die, you can live, you can get up and walk away like it didn't happen. There must be a potion I have. Somewhere - where are the ingredients?
Oh God.
They're back at school. Innocent blood is mixing with more tears now, so pale it is almost clear. Pale skin is showing through the red layer; I have to turn them over. Have to see - have to check...maybe it didn't work, and they're playing dead. I reach out, recoil, reach again and using all my courage, turn them over.
And then I scream.
~*~*~*~
I wake up, and look wildly about me, wondering why it is suddenly so warm and dry around me. Then, I remember. I remember who I am now - where I am now. Safe, and warm, at least for the moment, in the darkest recesses of the Hogwarts dungeons. A green fire crackles in the hearth at the end of the bed, supplying the room with warmth not associated with the dungeons. The coverlet is all twisted where I suppose I have been turning and moving in sleep. Every night, the same dream - every night, I see a different face.
Countless faces...all of whom I have ended the lives of, in one way or another.
I sigh, and shake my head. There's no point in thinking about them. They were just unlucky, and I was doing a job, just like anyone else in this world. It was all for survival, and ensuring that I was able to wreak my revenge over my enemies.
At least, that is what I used to tell myself at first.
Now, it's only to help Dumbledore - that man. He was born to be a saint, and no doubt he shall leave this world as a martyr to wizards and witches all over the world. He adopts a death eater, gives him a job at his school, and trusts him with secrets no sane wizard would dare to tell another living soul.
Severus Snape doesn't argue. He accepts this. He does what he is told, just as he always has, and always will, to pay for what he did before.
I'm a monster. Yes, I know I am. And, not the monster that terrorises first year students - I have killed - in sport - in battle. I have tortured, and I have driven people mad, all with a smile fixed upon my face as though it were a game.
It ceased being a game that day - when I turned *them* over. When I saw what I thought was a muggle. No...she wasn't even close to a muggle.
Mother.
Father delighted in it. His son finally had the spirit to be counted as one of the inner circle. He had proven himself worthy of the role, in dealing away with the only friendly, decent thing he'd ever had in his life. Now, Severus was a real man, with no namby pamby woman to fuss over him, and smother him with something so ridiculous as love.
What time is it I wonder? Anything to take my mind off of all this. Is it time for me to wake up, and start the usual routine, or must I endure this room for longer?
Six o'clock.
May as well get up - I'm not going to attempt to go back to sleep anyway - any more dreamless sleep potion, and I might end up in a coma. At least Potter and his friends would be happy; actually, make that most of the students would be ecstatic.
Potter. That boy - he'll be the death of me, I can sense it. When it comes to the end, to the final battle, I'll have to break away, show what I've been doing for so long to his Lordship's ranks. And, his Lordship will not be pleased at all. Oh no. I've stopped many a fun night of his, killing muggle-borns and ministry officials who are clever enough to realise that he is back. Alas, I couldn't stop every one of those. It would have been too obvious.
I couldn't stop Black's death.
Selfishness and childhood hatred make strong webs, and the web woven about me that day was one of the strongest. I couldn't bring myself to help that *thing*. That man, who tried to maliciously kill me at such a young age - who was more vicious than I ever was, or have been.
And yet, now I lament his death, and I see his face in the dreams, because I know I may as well have held the wand to his head and yelled the death curse. It was my fault - I didn't waylay the others long enough from finding them.
Useless Severus. Must try harder, must do better next time.
If there is a next time - which there won't be for Black. Lupin laments his death almost as much as I do, though I warrant it's for different reasons. They were closer than mere friends; I may not know much about love, having never experienced it for myself, but I can recognise it. Like an all consuming virus, that storms through the world, and yet I'm immune.
Which helps in my line of work. Attachments only make it harder when you must turn tail and abandon someone, in order to help someone more important. Which at the moment would be Potter. I have to duck and dive and follow that boy around to make sure he doesn't get himself killed - though I doubt he appreciates my constant shadowing this year, when his pubescent hormones are probably going into overdrive. Tough luck boy, if you want to stay alive.
The sun's already coming up. Looking down, I can see the mark resting there on my arm, almost moving as the sunlight dances across the skin there. It's almost as though that isn't my arm at all. Even when I pinch it, it doesn't really register. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that I'm a normal person, with a normal life, and everything is fine.
But then the mark burns, and it reminds me.
And the dream comes, and it reminds me.
It reminds me of what I've done.
Of what I still have to do.
And that I will never, ever, be able to repay the world the debts I owe. But, until the very day that I fall down and die like those I have killed, I will keep on trying to. Because I know what I've done.
And though I cannot undo it...I'm still going to try to.
~/*\~/*\~/*\~
Tada! R+R
Soda
Disclaimer: You know, JK's, not mine.
I'm still alive! Sadly, Thievery has hit a rut, and I'm slowly but surely forcing my way out of it. But, until then, I thought I'd introduce this, a short spate from Snape's point of view. The first bit of it, up until the star, I actually used for an English story (though I never handed it in, come to think of it.) I'm sorry for the shortness, and Thievery will get somewhere eventually.
~/*\~/*\~/*\~
What have I done?
Oh God - there is blood. It's on my hands; and they're lying there, barely breathing.
What have I done?
"I'm sorry - are you all right muggle?" There's no answer, other than a choked sound. They are crying - I am crying. The tears are washing all the blood off of my hands now, so that it runs in a pinkish stream along the puddled ground. Such a soft colour for such a harsh reality. I did this. I'm a monster. Maybe if I just heal you, I can reverse it - yes, good idea.
Where's my wand gotten to? It was here only a moment ago - aha, there it is - it must have rolled when they tried to kick it away.
Wait; the others will be watching. If they see me... I'll be no better off than the muggle.
I'm paralysed. What shall I do? Heal and die, or kill and live? My conscience is crying and my inner demons are laughing, and I'm so confused now, what do I do?
Green light - harsh words uttered loudly somewhere near. They twitch, and then fall completely still, still forever. Good. Now they're out of their misery, and I am out of mine at long last. The others won't have to see me kill, or see me fail.
See me kill... NO!
What have I done? It was me! I did it, I killed! Without knowing... innocent blood is on my hands. No, no, I take it back, come back to life muggle. I'll die, you can live, you can get up and walk away like it didn't happen. There must be a potion I have. Somewhere - where are the ingredients?
Oh God.
They're back at school. Innocent blood is mixing with more tears now, so pale it is almost clear. Pale skin is showing through the red layer; I have to turn them over. Have to see - have to check...maybe it didn't work, and they're playing dead. I reach out, recoil, reach again and using all my courage, turn them over.
And then I scream.
~*~*~*~
I wake up, and look wildly about me, wondering why it is suddenly so warm and dry around me. Then, I remember. I remember who I am now - where I am now. Safe, and warm, at least for the moment, in the darkest recesses of the Hogwarts dungeons. A green fire crackles in the hearth at the end of the bed, supplying the room with warmth not associated with the dungeons. The coverlet is all twisted where I suppose I have been turning and moving in sleep. Every night, the same dream - every night, I see a different face.
Countless faces...all of whom I have ended the lives of, in one way or another.
I sigh, and shake my head. There's no point in thinking about them. They were just unlucky, and I was doing a job, just like anyone else in this world. It was all for survival, and ensuring that I was able to wreak my revenge over my enemies.
At least, that is what I used to tell myself at first.
Now, it's only to help Dumbledore - that man. He was born to be a saint, and no doubt he shall leave this world as a martyr to wizards and witches all over the world. He adopts a death eater, gives him a job at his school, and trusts him with secrets no sane wizard would dare to tell another living soul.
Severus Snape doesn't argue. He accepts this. He does what he is told, just as he always has, and always will, to pay for what he did before.
I'm a monster. Yes, I know I am. And, not the monster that terrorises first year students - I have killed - in sport - in battle. I have tortured, and I have driven people mad, all with a smile fixed upon my face as though it were a game.
It ceased being a game that day - when I turned *them* over. When I saw what I thought was a muggle. No...she wasn't even close to a muggle.
Mother.
Father delighted in it. His son finally had the spirit to be counted as one of the inner circle. He had proven himself worthy of the role, in dealing away with the only friendly, decent thing he'd ever had in his life. Now, Severus was a real man, with no namby pamby woman to fuss over him, and smother him with something so ridiculous as love.
What time is it I wonder? Anything to take my mind off of all this. Is it time for me to wake up, and start the usual routine, or must I endure this room for longer?
Six o'clock.
May as well get up - I'm not going to attempt to go back to sleep anyway - any more dreamless sleep potion, and I might end up in a coma. At least Potter and his friends would be happy; actually, make that most of the students would be ecstatic.
Potter. That boy - he'll be the death of me, I can sense it. When it comes to the end, to the final battle, I'll have to break away, show what I've been doing for so long to his Lordship's ranks. And, his Lordship will not be pleased at all. Oh no. I've stopped many a fun night of his, killing muggle-borns and ministry officials who are clever enough to realise that he is back. Alas, I couldn't stop every one of those. It would have been too obvious.
I couldn't stop Black's death.
Selfishness and childhood hatred make strong webs, and the web woven about me that day was one of the strongest. I couldn't bring myself to help that *thing*. That man, who tried to maliciously kill me at such a young age - who was more vicious than I ever was, or have been.
And yet, now I lament his death, and I see his face in the dreams, because I know I may as well have held the wand to his head and yelled the death curse. It was my fault - I didn't waylay the others long enough from finding them.
Useless Severus. Must try harder, must do better next time.
If there is a next time - which there won't be for Black. Lupin laments his death almost as much as I do, though I warrant it's for different reasons. They were closer than mere friends; I may not know much about love, having never experienced it for myself, but I can recognise it. Like an all consuming virus, that storms through the world, and yet I'm immune.
Which helps in my line of work. Attachments only make it harder when you must turn tail and abandon someone, in order to help someone more important. Which at the moment would be Potter. I have to duck and dive and follow that boy around to make sure he doesn't get himself killed - though I doubt he appreciates my constant shadowing this year, when his pubescent hormones are probably going into overdrive. Tough luck boy, if you want to stay alive.
The sun's already coming up. Looking down, I can see the mark resting there on my arm, almost moving as the sunlight dances across the skin there. It's almost as though that isn't my arm at all. Even when I pinch it, it doesn't really register. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that I'm a normal person, with a normal life, and everything is fine.
But then the mark burns, and it reminds me.
And the dream comes, and it reminds me.
It reminds me of what I've done.
Of what I still have to do.
And that I will never, ever, be able to repay the world the debts I owe. But, until the very day that I fall down and die like those I have killed, I will keep on trying to. Because I know what I've done.
And though I cannot undo it...I'm still going to try to.
~/*\~/*\~/*\~
Tada! R+R
Soda