THE LEAVING STORY
~*~*~
Summary- Severus Snape remembers a promise. Albus Dumbledore makes a sacrifice. Hermione Granger is spared. Something new has begun.
Warning- Tiny reference to suicide and dark themes. That's all.
Disclaimer- You know what is owned by J.K. Rowling. The title is taken from an A.F.I, song called The Leaving Song. Care to guess the inspiration here?
~*~*~
The Light Side-
I made a decision many years ago that I now find myself regretting. I promised myself I would never let another innocent young girl, muggle or witch, die while I sat by, maybe just capable of preventing it. Why do I regret that oath now? Because Albus Dumbledore sits here telling me he is willing to sacrifice you. Because I will have to give up everything I have. But maybe you are not such an innocent. I dare not hope, but I must know.
"Is she a virgin?" I ask. Albus Dumbledore looks at me. Harry Potter looks at me. Neither of them understands. Harry Potter turns to look at Ronald Weasley. Ronald Weasley nods. He would know.
"Why do you ask, Severus?" Albus Dumbledore asks me.
"Because a virgin's blood is useful in many potions," I lie. He should be repulsed. Your friends should be repulsed. They are not. I wonder, in truth, if I am on the Light side anymore.
"We would not let her sacrifice go to waste, Severus," Albus Dumbledore says. I hate him now. I've hated him before. This is nothing new. He talks about it too easily. You are nothing to him, just a pawn in his sick game, an expendable cost.
You should not be anything to me, but I find that you are. Even if your curly brown hair, dark eyes, and tiny features are so different from my own black eyes, lank hair, and sharp edges, I still see myself in you. You wanted to learn, something that is indeed rare amongst youth, but so like me. Now I fear you know too much. Now I fear you've learned what made me the man I am.
I remember how you looked after you discovered your parents were killed. I had tried to prevent it from happening, but Albus Dumbledore had the final say. He always has the final say, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were just another sacrifice he was willing to make.
He makes it so easy for people to hate him with his impossibly bright blue eyes and pretended age-old wisdom. But does he really know? I doubt it. I doubt he understand what only the abused can know. Has he ever tried to take a knife to his own wrinkling wrists? I can see from the lack of any white scars on them that he has not.
"What shall I tell the Dark Lord?" I ask, knowing the answer.
"Tell him we will not be involved in any transaction," Albus Dumbledore says. Did I mention I hate him?
I nod anyways. It is my job: to nod to one master and to nod to the other. But not anymore. I am my own master now.
I savor this memory, to show you in my pensive after we escape.
I leave Albus Dumbledore's office, but not before ever so discretely plucking a single hair off Harry Potter's head. I honestly pity the first Slytherin I come across. He will be taking a Polyjuice potion with Harry Potter's hair in it and becoming the Boy Who Lived for an hour.
I come across Draco Malfoy. This is probably the best scenario. Because of Lucius Malfoy's loyalty to the Dark Lord, Voldemort will spare the boy, even when he realizes my treachery. Never trust anyone except Hufflepuffs, and be wary of even them.
"Follow me," I say to Draco. It is not an request, but a command that is responded to because of the Imperious curse I have already cast upon him.
He follows me obediently to my office. I place Harry Potter's hair in an already pre-made, emergency potion. I tell Draco to drink it. He does. We wait, for forty-five minutes. Then I get up and walk him to the gates of Hogwarts.
When we get there, I knock him on the back of the head with a specialized spell. It is a rather primitive, but affective way of rending one unconscious without causing any permenent damage. I grab his sinking body and Apparate to where the Dark Lord is waiting.
Voldemort is happy to see me, and euphoric to see my burden: Harry Potter. He does not notice that the boy's glazed over eyes are blue instead of his mother's green. I knew he wouldn't.
I am less than euphoric to see you. The trauma you have been through is more than I would wish upon my worst enemy. Lucius grabs you by your hair and throws you at me. I throw his own well-disguised son at him. You look up at me.
"You came," you say, voice hushed. Then, loud enough for everyone to hear, "And Harry's eyes are green."
I Apparate with you to a series of locations, smiling at your idea of a parting joke on your captors. We end up in China somewhere. I look up at the well hidden cottage next to us. The small old woman who taught me everything I know about Potions and life is standing in the doorframe, surrounded by her usual array of magical creatures. A newborn unicorn is tethered to her fence post. I carry you up to the old woman.
"You came back," the old woman says. She looks at you. "You kept your promise."
"Yes," I say. Somewhere a Polyjuice potion is wearing off. Somewhere Albus Dumbledore is planning his next sacrifice. Me, I'm making new promises, ones I now know I have the strength to keep.
~*~*~ Thank-you for reading. A.H.
~*~*~
Summary- Severus Snape remembers a promise. Albus Dumbledore makes a sacrifice. Hermione Granger is spared. Something new has begun.
Warning- Tiny reference to suicide and dark themes. That's all.
Disclaimer- You know what is owned by J.K. Rowling. The title is taken from an A.F.I, song called The Leaving Song. Care to guess the inspiration here?
~*~*~
The Light Side-
I made a decision many years ago that I now find myself regretting. I promised myself I would never let another innocent young girl, muggle or witch, die while I sat by, maybe just capable of preventing it. Why do I regret that oath now? Because Albus Dumbledore sits here telling me he is willing to sacrifice you. Because I will have to give up everything I have. But maybe you are not such an innocent. I dare not hope, but I must know.
"Is she a virgin?" I ask. Albus Dumbledore looks at me. Harry Potter looks at me. Neither of them understands. Harry Potter turns to look at Ronald Weasley. Ronald Weasley nods. He would know.
"Why do you ask, Severus?" Albus Dumbledore asks me.
"Because a virgin's blood is useful in many potions," I lie. He should be repulsed. Your friends should be repulsed. They are not. I wonder, in truth, if I am on the Light side anymore.
"We would not let her sacrifice go to waste, Severus," Albus Dumbledore says. I hate him now. I've hated him before. This is nothing new. He talks about it too easily. You are nothing to him, just a pawn in his sick game, an expendable cost.
You should not be anything to me, but I find that you are. Even if your curly brown hair, dark eyes, and tiny features are so different from my own black eyes, lank hair, and sharp edges, I still see myself in you. You wanted to learn, something that is indeed rare amongst youth, but so like me. Now I fear you know too much. Now I fear you've learned what made me the man I am.
I remember how you looked after you discovered your parents were killed. I had tried to prevent it from happening, but Albus Dumbledore had the final say. He always has the final say, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were just another sacrifice he was willing to make.
He makes it so easy for people to hate him with his impossibly bright blue eyes and pretended age-old wisdom. But does he really know? I doubt it. I doubt he understand what only the abused can know. Has he ever tried to take a knife to his own wrinkling wrists? I can see from the lack of any white scars on them that he has not.
"What shall I tell the Dark Lord?" I ask, knowing the answer.
"Tell him we will not be involved in any transaction," Albus Dumbledore says. Did I mention I hate him?
I nod anyways. It is my job: to nod to one master and to nod to the other. But not anymore. I am my own master now.
I savor this memory, to show you in my pensive after we escape.
I leave Albus Dumbledore's office, but not before ever so discretely plucking a single hair off Harry Potter's head. I honestly pity the first Slytherin I come across. He will be taking a Polyjuice potion with Harry Potter's hair in it and becoming the Boy Who Lived for an hour.
I come across Draco Malfoy. This is probably the best scenario. Because of Lucius Malfoy's loyalty to the Dark Lord, Voldemort will spare the boy, even when he realizes my treachery. Never trust anyone except Hufflepuffs, and be wary of even them.
"Follow me," I say to Draco. It is not an request, but a command that is responded to because of the Imperious curse I have already cast upon him.
He follows me obediently to my office. I place Harry Potter's hair in an already pre-made, emergency potion. I tell Draco to drink it. He does. We wait, for forty-five minutes. Then I get up and walk him to the gates of Hogwarts.
When we get there, I knock him on the back of the head with a specialized spell. It is a rather primitive, but affective way of rending one unconscious without causing any permenent damage. I grab his sinking body and Apparate to where the Dark Lord is waiting.
Voldemort is happy to see me, and euphoric to see my burden: Harry Potter. He does not notice that the boy's glazed over eyes are blue instead of his mother's green. I knew he wouldn't.
I am less than euphoric to see you. The trauma you have been through is more than I would wish upon my worst enemy. Lucius grabs you by your hair and throws you at me. I throw his own well-disguised son at him. You look up at me.
"You came," you say, voice hushed. Then, loud enough for everyone to hear, "And Harry's eyes are green."
I Apparate with you to a series of locations, smiling at your idea of a parting joke on your captors. We end up in China somewhere. I look up at the well hidden cottage next to us. The small old woman who taught me everything I know about Potions and life is standing in the doorframe, surrounded by her usual array of magical creatures. A newborn unicorn is tethered to her fence post. I carry you up to the old woman.
"You came back," the old woman says. She looks at you. "You kept your promise."
"Yes," I say. Somewhere a Polyjuice potion is wearing off. Somewhere Albus Dumbledore is planning his next sacrifice. Me, I'm making new promises, ones I now know I have the strength to keep.
~*~*~ Thank-you for reading. A.H.