Title: Beyond the boundaries of hatred
Disclaimer: I have absolutely nothing to do with the original Harry Potter and am in no way affiliated with Miss Rowling. Curse those dimwits who think I do.
Words before the story: It has been a while since I have written a fanfiction or original stories; I stopped for various reasons, one being, as I write I grew more unconfident and unsure of my writing skills. I can't continue writing something that my mind labels as 'RUBBISH'. I want to write yet I feel suffocated and strained at the same time. However, my love for writing and YAOI helped me overcome this internal struggle, just a little but it's enough. (Pardon my babbling)
HEREBY, I present you with my latest fanfiction. Constructive comments and criticisms are welcomed but heed me; YAOI-BASHING will be ignored and treated as a bad joke.
Summary: The war between good and evil will soon rage. It was seen as inevitable by many that mass bloodshed will occur in the near future yet a witch decides to take matters in her hands, to prevent the said outcome. Her plan involves roses, chocolates and love poems? This is a story that will start off depressing and angst-filled but gradually it will progress into a more light-hearted romance story, with occasional dash of humour. The angst will still be there but not so pronounced.
Pairings (Planned): Voldemort/Harry, Snape/Lupin
Chapter One: The witch who claims to be the reincarnation of a goddess
The moon hanging above was thin crescent in shape; phases before she will be full, a lonely presence without any cloud or star to grace her. The night was unusually quiet and even the owls that hunt at night seemed to have retreated to the more remote abode of the dense forest. A melancholic view for a dread filled night; a perfect backdrop for the unfolding tragedy. The dark mark loomed over the dilapidated mansion. The skull-like phantom illuminated the building with an eerie green light as a scream tore through the mansion from one of the torture chambers in the basement.
A man dressed in black cape was hanging midair, his feet dangling several metres away from the stone floor; his hands were bind together with a handcuff attached to a thick metal chain extending from the ceiling. His pathetic state seemed to invoke great amusement from the woman who lounged lazily on the wide armchair before him with her legs folded under her, sipping from a tall glass. The red liquid inside it whirled along with her gesture.
After he and his comrade were fooled into believing that they had put the witch into captive, and were preparing to leave the enchanted vicinity. He turned around just in time to see the head of his partner for this accursed mission fall off his neck and rolled towards to the helm of his robe barely touching it, he looked at it, momentarily losing the ability to speak and his mobility, as the head stared back at him with blank and lifeless eyes. His body responded to the gruesome sight with a reflexive kick, sending the head into between the thick bushes to his left. A revolting sensation came from his stomach and spread throughout his body, making him weak throughout.
He felt vulnerable again, like how he always was. He tried to scream and make his arms move to reach for his wand inside his robe, yet both attempts yield only futility. He deciphered his situation as under the witch's spell but he heard a voice, cold and piercing Powerless and useless as always, at least show some effort to run. Tears began to well in his eyes blurring his sight, he cursed himself again.
He blinked trying to get the tears away, when his sight cleared, he noticed that the witch was approaching him. His nostrils were filled with a sweet scent as she got closer, and whether it was due to the physical exhaustion of the mission itself or from the fear and impact of the occurrences just now, or it was really because of the fragrance, he suddenly felt drowsy. He did not run when he felt her fingernails scraping the side of his face and when it slid lower to the side of his neck. He was under a spell. He did not even have the chance to gasp or cry when the sharp nails dug into his skin, breaking it, before he placed into a sudden induced sleep.
When he awakened, he felt a sharp pain in his wrists and was vaguely aware that he was hanging from the ceiling and an itchy and uncomfortable sensation was coming from the side of his neck. He blinked and shook his head, trying to shake the haziness from his mind. His throat still sore from screaming, apparently the process of waking up from the induced sleep would cause a sudden shock that would initiate screams. Though, painless.
"This is a distasteful way of greeting guests." The witch said in an amused tone, as she chuckled softly, shifting her position to lower her feet to the floor. "However, I won't apologize for my ill manner and you and your friends should be punished for your misbehaviour. I expect an apology, child."
Severus Snape squint hard to get a better look at the witch, apparently she had taken off her veil that had hidden her face from the world. Although his heart was thumping from fear and was fully aware that he was perched precariously on the brink of death, the will to truth and curiosity got better of him. Since he was probably going to die soon, he might as well die with the superiority of knowing how the infamous veiled-witch looked like. He let out a small sigh of frustration because the room was too dimly lit to make out her facial profile. The only light in the room came from the fireplace behind him, yet the fire was mere and not even sufficient to warm up the room.
"I admire the curiosity of young minds, how old are you child, barely twenty I suppose?" He heard her fingers snap and suddenly the fire behind him bellowed and blazed, lighting the room and giving him a better look of her face. The veiled-witch had been known to exist for many years and information about her came from undated sources that could be traced back to even a hundred years. Yet, before him sat a girl who looked about his age and maybe even younger. Her long dark wavy hair framing her delicate face, her face had no pronounced features, the contours of her face smooth and pleasant. She had a pair of almond-shaped eyes with the corners slanting upwards, her green eyes were impressive yet mischievous. She emitted the aura of innocence and purity, like a child untouched by the reality of life.
A blush tinted his cheeks. He was bewitched and mesmerized by her presence, for a moment he couldn't associate her with the woman who had mercilessly cut off the head of his fellow Death Eater, until he noticed that there were eyeballs floating in the glass she was holding. A familiar churn in his stomach occurred and he could feel the painful sour taste of vomit in the back of his throat.
"I would prefer if you could hold back your disgust, this is what kept the flesh that had captured you heart just now." With well humour, she stated with a playful tint in her eyes patting her cheek softly with one hand, and the other gesturing the glass at him.
Snape blushed more fiercely at the mock of her tone. He averted his eyes from her. The circumstances made him fail to feel the surprise of her powers. Her gift to read minds.
"You don't belong here, child. Do you know why Mr. Riddle sent you here?" The humour from her voice disappeared. Fearing this is an indication that his death was finally here, he returned his eyes to her face to search frantically for a sign. To no avail, he couldn't see anything she was unreadable.
"Do you?" She repeated her question patiently.
"To bring you to him." He replied meekly, his voice choking and barely a whisper.
"Capture was the likely order (Snape nodded under her stare), do you know who I am?"
"The veiled witch, I was told." His voice steadier this time.
"Terrible, they never tell you children the truth." She pause to shake her head before continuing, "I am not only I veiled with, I am a goddess, well," another pause. "A reincarnated one. Did they tell the real reason why you were sent here?"
Snape's eyes went wide with surprise.
"An obvious answer. You are not sent here to capture me but you are offerings and reminders that he still wants my help. A gesture of his sincerity."
"Offerings." His voice raised several pitches and was practically squealing.
"I need blood of young man and woman to maintain my youth and prolong my life," she stated with no remorse and impassivity. She took another sip from her glass. "This is my way of life, I have chosen such a way, what about yours?"
Her eyes burned into his as he felt his throat go dry. He had no answer for it. He had been regretting the decision of joining the death-eaters ever since he saw the head of his comrade fall off clear-cut from his neck. This feeling became stronger when she told him that he was sent here as offerings. Finding no voice, he could only gape at her wide-eyed, wishing that this would not bring displeasure to his captor.
"Many times in life, you have to suffer unreasonably. I understand that you are under the impression that joining Mr. Riddle will ward you off all harms but he was not a man who has regards for life and existence other than he himself. He was a bitter man, abused and holds hatred for the world." After a lengthy paused; and another sip. "I believe under different circumstances, your parents would love you." Her speech suddenly took a turn to his family.
Flashbacks of his unhappy childhood appeared before him, he shook his head vigorously trying to force the images out of his head, the chain holding him clattered with his feverish movements. He couldn't feel the handcuffs cutting deeper into his skin because he was already numb, but he could see the red droplets trickling down his arm.
"I can say this and that, make assumptions, ultimately reality gets the better of everything. A fact is a fact and no matter how unfortunate it is, it's a fact. You joined Mr. Riddle and his entourage out of hatred and insecurity, yet such feelings could not subside nor change your life. When you see others being tortured, an indescribable fear strangles you, you fear to be the next."
The impact of her words choked him, they were true each and every one of her words. He wanted to be protected from harm, wanted to be at least once not at the mercy of anyone. However, he actually put himself in a greater danger, he served under a man who would kill without any hesitation, who condemned traitors and those who defied him to death. Uncertainty wrapped around him like a heavy blanket, he couldn't see or think properly anymore. The only thought that ran in his mind was escape and run away from the monster. He unconsciously chanted the words silently as he contemplated the negative possibilities of being caught and tortured to death.
A satisfied smile came to her lips, as she nodded approvingly at his devastation and lost. "You know what to do. I know you do. I will not kill you; I want you to relay my message to Mr. Riddle, make sure not to miss a word: May we meet again." Although she meant the message to be for his master's, her eyes bore into his, as if she also intended for him to remember her words.
After her simple request, he was put into an induced sleep again. When he woke up he was lying on the floor in the conference room, coincidentally a meeting was being held. After he relayed his message, he was dismissed from the room with suspicious and rather curious murmurs falling behind. The older death-eaters marvelled at the fact that he was spared and the younger ones inquired about the veiled witch. Apparently, he was not the only one who was interested in her looks. Nevertheless, he kept the details of their encounter and conversation to himself, he knew better than spilling unnecessarily. They were left to speculate. His master was eternally unreadable; he did not utter a word when the message was delivered to him or when a new pair of young death-eaters was sent to the witch's abode again came back reporting that the witch's manor was no where to be found. It had disappeared from the Black Sea Forest. The lord assumed total nonchalance. However, it was later whispered that his private chamber was in ruins the morning after the news of the witch's disappearance was reported to him. And, three of his prisoners were executed on the said night.
Snape betrayed his lord soon after. When Dumbledore approached him and suggested to him to switch sides, he agreed almost immediately. His eagerness invoking an arch of the headmaster's white brow. In return for his service, he was offered a teaching position in Hogwarts. After years of a peaceful life, the news of the Dark lord's return sent his life back into turmoil, and her words began to haunt him in dreams, often accompanied by recollections of his most painful memories.
May we meet again
TBC
Preview: Snape encounters the witch again, for better or worse. She asked him to return the favour of not killing him years ago. Warning: this is not a Snape/OC fic, no matter how likely it seems. Harry appears in the next chapter, still learning how to cope with the lost of his godfather.
R/R is appreciated. Thank you for reading.