Marya allowed herself to sleep in the next morning – a luxury that would soon be over, as the students who had gone home over the Christmas holiday were expected back tomorrow. She was humming as she went about her morning routine – it had been a marvelous evening. A smile on her face, she remembered the feeling of his arms around her. He definitely had grown on her. When she was with him, her emotions towards him seemed to vacillate between exasperation and tenderness, but by now she was sure that she liked him – liked him very much. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror.
Her smile faded a bit as she thought about how he had abrupty ended the evening – something seemed to be not right. She shrugged – if someone was going to figure that man out, it wasn't going to be her, not any time soon. But last night had been wonderful.
She didn't see him at all that day. He did not show up for any of the meals, and when she went by his quarters, he wasn't there. Maybe something had come up with the Order, and he had been called away. When he still hadn't put in an appearance by the next day, she started to get worried. But late that evening, as she was getting a cup of tea ready before bed, there was a knock at her door.
"Come on in, the door's open!" she called out. It was Severus. He entered without speaking. There was a look on his face that she couldn't place. "Is everything alright?" she asked, concerned. Instead of answering, he walked over to her window and looked out. She moved up behind him and placed a hand on his back. "Severus, what is it?"
How was he to tell her? 'Last night was nice, but by the way, I was a Death Eater, one of those people who killed your parents.' How do you put something like that into words?
"There is something I need to tell you," he finally said in a rough voice. He still avoided looking at her, pacing in front of the window. "Well, then?" she asked – he was scaring her now. Whatever it was, she had never seen him so agitated. He turned around, his face even paler than usual. He seemed to be struggling for words. Finally, "This," he said, and pulling up the left sleeve of his robe almost defiantly, held his forearm out for her to see.
He heard her quickly draw in her breath in a shudder. Her face had gone white and still.
She remembered that mark. She remembered it floating, poison green in the night sky. There had been fire, and smoke, and people shouting.. Her mother, telling her to run. Dark robed figures, hooded faces, burning torches. All bathed in that ghastly emerald glow. She remembered a flash of bright light, and her mother screaming. A figure before her, face hidden behind a mask, wand raised. Another voice, hoarse and gravelly, saying, "Leave the young one. She isn't worth your time." And finally silence, flickering flames, emptiness. And still that hideous skull floating above her.
She looked up with empty eyes. "Death Eater," she whispered, backing away from him.
"Let me explain, please, Marya..."
"Were you there? Were you there, the night my parents..?" Her voice was almost inaudible, thin, dead.
"I can't remember. There were so many..." he said in anguish. It was the truth. He didn't know. He hoped to God that he hadn't been there that night. But he couldn't be sure. "Let me explain..."
Her arms were rigid by her side, her fists clenched. She was trembling. Hectic red spots now stood out like stains on her white, drained cheeks.
"Get out." A venomous whisper.
He raised his hands as if to appeal to her. "Marya..."
She flinched away from him. "Get out." Louder now, with a hysterical edge to her voice. "Get out, and never come back."
He closed his eyes for a moment, his face etched with pain, then stood up straight. With a small bow, he turned, and swept out of the room.
Outside her door, he stopped still for a moment. There was a sound of breaking glass coming from her room now. He drew a ragged breath – he had expected this. The mark made him anathema to anyone normal and whole. He had expected this – but that didn't mean he had not hoped...
He needed to get back to his quarters, back where no one could see him. Pulling himself together, he hurried down the dark hallways, praying to whatever deity might be out there that he would not run into anyone. Luckily, the hour was getting late, and the corridors were deserted. When getting close to the staffroom, he heard faint voices, though. He stopped, pressing himself to the wall.
The door to staff room opened, and the Headmaster and Minerva MacGonagall stepped out, deep in conversation. He caught just the tail end of a sentence as they walked off into the opposite direction – ".....and telling that girl to take care of Severus was one of the best ideas I ever had..." he heard Dumbledore's voice say with a chuckle. The voices faded to indistinguishable syllables as they drifted out of hearing range.
Snape leaned against the wall, looking as if he had been punched in the stomach.
What a fool he had been. How could he ever have believed for even a second that she actually wanted to be around him?
His anguish turned to white hot anger.
All those times she had seemed to offer friendship, to care – just the doings of a clever actress. He would have not thought that she had it in her. She looked like such an innocent. She had roped him in nicely, taking her time. How she must have laughed.
He knew Dumbledore too well. His motives would be based on concern for him, for his well-being. It galled him to no end that the headmaster would treat him like a six year old child that couldn't find a friend on his own. But surely he would never have approved of her going so far.
He shuddered as he remembered the look on her face as he had held her. All of it - nothing but a farce. His teeth were bared in a snarl, his face distorted.
He would not forgive her as long as he lived.