A/N: Chapter beta read by Forty-Two Dreams. All remaining mistakes are mine.
ANOTHER DIVE IN THE PENSIEVE
When Snape woke up later that night in Wilson's bed, the witch asleep and snuggled against his side, he couldn't believe he had been stupid enough to do this again. Well, actually he couldn't believe Wilson had been stupid enough to do this again too. And this time neither of them had the excuse of alcohol. He looked down at her. She had an arm wrapped around his waist, and was holding him too tightly to allow him to leave without waking her.
So he remained still and gave a look around. This was definitely a woman's room - lots of nauseating pastel colours all around. There were bookshelves in every corner. There was also a quite imposing pile of books on the bedside table.
Snape reached for the one on the top. Charms. He continued down the pile, putting the books aside one by one. More Charms. Novel. Arithmancy. Charms again. Potions. Some more Cha– Potions? He looked at the title of the book more closely: 'The Origins of Potions' by Fornax Varkov. The book he had advised her to read months before.
Trust a former Ravenclaw to read any book you might recommend to her.
Snape continued to browse down the pile of books, until he found a photograph, stuck between two books. He picked it up carefully. There was a man - late Jonathan Wilson - carrying a young child on his shoulders. Both were smiling joyfully, and the boy was waving at the camera while saying something - something that looked like it could have been 'hi mom'.
Snape put the photograph and the books back in their places. Then he rested comfortably and gave a last quick look towards Wilson before closing his eyes. Might as well try to get some more sleep. With the upcoming war, he might not have the opportunity to have another full night of sleep before a long time.
It was much later that Snape woke up again, once light was already shining through the curtains. And even though he felt like he had never slept so much before, it was no natural waking: his forearm was aching. The Dark Lord was calling his minions.
There was only one time in his life when he had ignored such a call: during the Triwizard Tournament a few years before. The pain had grown excruciating back then - you don't ignore the Dark Lord's call without paying for it.
Snape closed his eyes, trying his best to forget about the growing pain. He could still feel the warmth of a body next to his, which meant Wilson was still there. He tried to focus on her presence and block the pain out of his mind. But then she moved quite significantly, and disturbed his concentration. He opened his eyes to check her whereabouts, and was taken aback by what he saw.
Wilson was bent over his forearm, gazing at the Dark Mark. Not with disgust or fascination, like he had come to expect as the only two possible attitudes, but with curiosity. And as he saw her watching his Dark Mark, the symbol of all his past evil deeds, while his forearm was hurting more and more by the instant, he suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable.
So he protected himself the only way he knew.
He took his arm away from Wilson's scrutiny harshly. "What do you think you're doing?" he spat angrily.
The witch jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up to him with surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I didn't think – "
"Well you surely didn't!" he exclaimed spitefully. The pain in his forearm was still increasing. He had to get away from her, quickly, and find a quiet place before the pain became unbearable.
He stood up abruptly and headed for what he guessed was the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He rested his back against a wall, and took a few deep breaths.
He was overreacting. She had no way to know the Dark Mark was calling him - there was no difference in the appearance. But just thinking she had taken advantage of his sleeping to pick a glance at it was fuelling his anger.
"Not a morning person, are we?" he heard her chuckle from the room.
The comment drove him over the edge. He opened the door again and stepped back in the room.
"The Dark Mark is no laughing matter!" he exclaimed irately. "It is the symbol of a lifelong commitment to the Dark Lord! It represents all the evil things I've done in the past, and I've done quite a few, believe me! You have no idea of all the things I've done in the name of the Dark Lord! And this Dark Mark is the testimony of them!"
Snape wasn't sure what was annoying him the most. The fact the pain in his forearm was still increasing, or seeing Wilson's half smile after his declarations.
"First, I already kind of guessed all that," Wilson replied calmly. "Second, you might want to know that there's a bathrobe in there," she said as she indicated the bathroom. "Not that I really mind you hanging around like this…" she concluded on a suggestive tone.
Snape was suddenly very aware of his nakedness. All the more angered, he walked back in the bathroom and headed for the bathrobe, while he heard Wilson giggle. The bathrobe was pink - just his luck. And couldn't this pain stop for even a moment?
"You have no idea how many twisted witches have sought after me only because of this Mark!" he almost shouted, while he put the - pink - bathrobe on.
"No, but I'd love to know!" he heard Wilson reply on a playful tone.
He headed once more for the room, more angry than ever. His forearm's skin felt like it was burning now.
"You don't understand, do you?" Snape hissed in a low voice, resisting the urge to scratch the skin off his forearm. "I've done things you can't even imagine because of this," he continued as he indicated the Dark Mark, "because I chose to take the Mark of the Dark Lord. Joining the Dark Lord's side comes with a price, and my bearing this," he indicated again, "and my being still alive to show it proves I paid it," he continued bitterly. The pain in his forearm had grown so much he had a hard time keeping a straight face. "And I cannot tolerate anyone mocking what symbolises the darkest and one of the most significant parts of my life," he finished on an irrevocable tone.
Wilson's half smile had slowly faded during his tirade. Once he was done, she remained staring at him silently for a few seconds. Then she suddenly turned to grab her clothes and began to dress, just as silently.
"What are you doing?" Snape asked with surprise.
"I'm getting dressed," Wilson replied matter-of-factly.
"Why?" He had suddenly totally forgotten about his aching forearm.
"Because I don't exactly entertain the idea of hanging around the school totally naked." She paused, looking as if she was repeating her own sentence in her head. "Damn, I'm spending way too much time around you…" Once dressed, she headed for the door.
"You still don't understand, do you?" Snape insisted. Why was he all of a sudden almost desperate to have her understand?
"Oh, on the contrary, it's perfectly clear," Wilson replied calmly and coldly as she turned to face him. "I understand that you have plenty of issues. I understand that you don't want to talk about them. I also understand you wish to be left alone, so I'll spare you the trouble of kicking me out of my own room by leaving on my own. I understand you're the kind of guy who will never be happy, because you keep dwelling on the past, and because somehow you enjoy feeling miserable. And honestly I could do without that, especially these days."
"Well, if one dwelling on the past is doomed to never be happy, then I guess you're as doomed as I am," Snape noted.
"There's a substantial difference between – " Wilson began.
"And I'll have you know that I don't take any pleasure in feeling miserable," Snape interrupted. As a sudden surge of pain shot through his forearm, he began to massage his Dark Mark almost unconsciously.
"Why don't you tell me, then?" she asked. "Why don't you tell me about these 'evil' things you said you did?"
Snape pondered over this for a moment. This was crazy. This was totally demented. But he had to make her see for herself… "I can't tell you," he eventually replied. "But I can show you, if you feel up to it."
He didn't wait for Wilson's answer, and began rummaging through his scattered clothes. It took him several seconds to find his wand among the mess. As soon as he had it, he conjured the new Pensieve from his office, while Wilson still looked quite puzzled.
As Snape began to extract memories with the tip of his wand, Wilson suddenly spoke up. "Wait, you don't really – "
"You asked for it," he interrupted. "I'll select only two memories, it should be more than enough," he added bitterly.
When he was done, he pushed the Pensieve towards Wilson. The witch looked at the shimmering surface apprehensively.
"What are you waiting for? Don't you want to know about the 'evil' things I said I did?" he asked, mimicking her tone.
Wilson hesitated a few more seconds before dipping a finger in the Pensieve.
Severus was sixteen years old. It was the summer vacation before his sixth year at Hogwarts, and instead of being outside in the sun, he was in his room, working on a Potions assignment. Potions was one of the few things that helped him relax. When working on Potions, he almost didn't hear his parents arguing and yelling at each other any more, like they were at the moment.
There was a light tap at the window. It was an owl, and Severus immediately got up to retrieve the message. He read it quickly; it was only a few words scribbled on a piece of parchment.
"Meet me by the lake in twenty minutes. Bring the book. L.M."
By the lake in twenty minutes? He had to leave as soon as possible if he wanted to be there by then. So Severus browsed through his shelves hurriedly to find the required book, before leaving his room. Then he proceeded to go down the stairs as quietly as possible, as to not bring his parents' attention to him.
Now that he was downstairs, he could hear the argument all the more clearly. The most difficult part would be to walk through the dining room's open door without their noticing him. He took a deep breath and walked ahead of him resolutely.
"Severus!" his father's voice called angrily.
Damn. He ignored his father and kept walking forward, until a strong hand grabbed his arm and stopped him.
"Where are you going, boy?" his father demanded harshly. When he didn't reply, the pressure on his forearm increased. "Where. Are. You. Going?"
Severus turned to face his father at last, and looked at him in the eyes. He didn't fear him, not any more. "I'm meeting Lucius Malfoy at the lake."
His father suddenly released his grip. "Malfoy?... A rich family… Very powerful… Don't make a fool out of yourself in front of Malfoy," he warned.
Severus nodded and left, barely listening to his father warning him about his arrogant behaviour. One day, he would show him.
He strode through the wilderness, the book under his arm, hoping to arrive on time. Severus didn't really have any friends at Hogwarts, and even though Malfoy was several years older than he was, he had in a way taken Severus under his protection during his first year. And Severus didn't want to spoil the closest thing he had to a friendship.
When he reached the lake at last, he was greeted by Malfoy's displeased expression.
"You're late," the young man noted.
"You know I can't apparate yet, unlike you," Severus remarked. He noticed the presence of some of Lucius' friends. The Lestrange brothers, Jugson, and Bellatrix Black. He averted his eyes when they met the young witch's - he had always felt slightly uncomfortable around her. That was when he noticed the presence of a young woman, wrists and ankles tied. She was crying, and was also obviously under the effects of a Silencing charm.
"Who's that?" Severus asked.
Malfoy shrugged. "Just a Muggle. Do you have the book?" Severus nodded and handed the book to Lucius. "Good!" Malfoy said as he browsed the pages. "Ah, this one looks interesting. What do you think, Bella?"
The witch moved to Lucius' side to peer over his shoulder. Her lips twitched in a half demented smile. "Oh, can I be the first to try it?" she asked enthusiastically.
"Sure, go ahead," Malfoy agreed.
Black picked up the book and moved in front of the Muggle. When she dispelled the Silencing charm, the woman's yells echoed throughout the countryside.
"No one can hear you, dear," Black mocked while she read the page. "You'd better save your breath for what's coming…"
The Muggle began to cry anew, begging for mercy, asking they released her. But it only seemed to increase Black's excitement. The witch lifted her wand with a devilish smile, and eventually cast the curse: "Intorqueo Artus!"
The Muggle's cries redoubled as her arms, legs and neck suddenly elongated to reach abnormal proportions. Black seemed very pleased with the result.
The young wizards took turns torturing the Muggle, trying Dark Arts curse after Dark Arts curse on their live experiment. Severus remained watching them, fascinated by their abilities to master so quickly curses so complex. As for Malfoy, he studied Severus' reactions very closely from the corner of his eyes.
"Severus," Malfoy eventually called. "Do you want to try?"
Snape hesitated for a second. "What about the Underage Magic Restriction? The Ministry will know I've been doing magic in an instant."
"Use my wand, then," Malfoy offered as he handed it. "No one will know you did anything."
Severus picked it up and began to browse the book for a curse. They were all so complicated…
"These are no kid's curses like you're used to," Malfoy noted. "This is more serious. This is real Dark Arts."
Severus nodded. He had read this book several times, he already knew all about these curses. He looked around: they were all watching him expectedly. He browsed the book some more until he found a curse he could try. He aimed Malfoy's wand at the whimpering Muggle and pronounced the incantation. "Perseco Multiplicatus!" he exclaimed.
A series of large cuts appeared simultaneously on various parts of the woman's body and started to bleed profusely.
"A very fine pick, if I may say so, Severus," Malfoy commented, and Severus smiled with self satisfaction. "Though I'm afraid it will shorten our fun. Bella, I think I saw a curse to skin alive in there. Do you want to try it before it's too late?"
Severus was now seventeen years old. There had been several drastic changes in his life this last year. First, he had unexpectedly bonded with some of his Slytherin year mates - Avery, Rosier and Wilkes - over the summer. They had all been enlisted by Malfoy for his… activities… and all shared Malfoy's views on non-purebloods.
Severus wasn't sure what his opinion on the subject was. Sure, he had been brought up to share that point of view, but he didn't know what he thought about it. Actually he didn't really care, as long as he was accepted in their group.
Now that all four of them were of age, they had taken all this a step further. Malfoy had introduced them to the Dark Lord, the powerful dark wizard feared by so many in the Wizarding world. Even by the Minister of Magic, it was said. They had joined him, and he had become their Master. They bore his Mark proudly on the forearm. But now the day had come for them to prove their allegiance and show they were worthy of becoming one of the Dark Lord's trusted Death Eaters.
He would show them. He would show them all what he was worth.
That night, they had joined the older Death Eaters for a raid on Muggle-born wizards. Severus was the first to have to prove himself, once they had managed to corner a wandless witch in her own house.
The Dark Lord was standing next to him, giving him instructions. "Kill her," the Dark Lord demanded coldly.
The Killing Curse. The ultimate step in the Dark Arts. He knew he could cast it, there was no questioning it. He was half thrilled, half nervous at the prospect of using it. Severus observed the witch: he didn't know her. She was glaring at him with hatred, but he didn't care. He aimed his wand at her.
All of a sudden, the witch rushed towards him with a cry full of rage. And before he knew it, Severus had cast the curse. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted. The witch fell to the floor in the middle of her run.
"The child, now, Severus," the Dark Lord ordered next to him, and Snape felt an urging hand on his shoulder.
A child? What child? Severus wondered, until he saw a five year old boy running to the witch's body. Her son. She had been standing in the doorway that led to the room where the boy was hiding. She had tried to protect her child.
Could he do that? Severus then wondered. He saw the boy look up to him with fright. Exactly the way he himself had used to look up to his father when he was the boy's age. The boy was totally defenceless. He couldn't do that. He just couldn't.
"Now, Severus," the Dark Lord insisted with irritation, and dig his nails into Snape's shoulder pressingly.
Severus gave a quick look around, and suddenly realised the few Death Eaters present weren't there to back him up, but to eliminate him should the need arise.
He couldn't do that, but he would have to.
He took his courage in both hands and, doing his best to ignore the boy's look of terror, he lifted his wand.
By the time Wilson came back from the Pensieve, the pain in Snape's forearm had subsided. Wilson seemed to be on the verge of tears, and didn't look at him immediately. She took a few deep breaths before turning to him.
"Did you kill that child?" she asked with a weak and strangled voice.
So she hadn't had the courage to see the memory to the end…
"Did you kill that child?" she repeated, quite heatedly this time.
"What do you think?" he simply asked back.
Ah, there it was at last. The disgust on her face when she was looking at him. And it was very clear what she thought he had done.
"Being a member of the Order makes me no better man than any other Death Eater," Snape continued. "We are called Death Eaters for a reason. We feed on death and destruction. And the Dark Lord always makes sure to place you in a kill or be killed situation." Why did he feel the need to justify his actions? Especially when he had never managed to justify those?
"But a child, for Merlin's sake!" Wilson exclaimed furiously.
"What can I say…? I've always led my life making a fool's choices."
Wilson shook her head with repugnance. "I would have died rather than kill a child," she muttered.
Snape silently watched her leave. People always assumed what they would do in this or that situation, how heroic they would act. And most of the time they got it unbelievingly wrong.
He quietly followed Wilson to the doorstep, only to find Lupin standing there, just outside, as if about to knock.
"Endora? What – " Lupin began.
"This isn't the moment, Remus," the witch interrupted him. "And I don't want any questions," she concluded before rushing away.
Lupin watched his sister leave hurriedly. He turned round and finally noticed Snape's presence. The werewolf stared at him for a moment, then looked him up and down.
"Isn't that Endora's – "
"Yes, it is," Snape interrupted quite grimly. Wilson's pink bathrobe.
Lupin stared unbelievingly at him some more. "You two didn't – "
"Oh yes, we most certainly did. Several times, actually," Snape replied provocatively. "So, how was your date?" he continued on a casual tone.
Lupin looked more and more confused. "I, er… I think I'd better go…" And with these last words, he left.
Coming Next: Getting Ready