Like most of you I was shocked by Snape's betrayal of Dumbledore. I wanted to try to imagine what Snape must be feeling after he left Hogwarts and the events that led up to his treachery. So, as we wait for HP 7 and the real answers, why not imagine life from Snape's new point of view?
Disclaimer: If you are foolish enough to think that any part of HP belongs to me, you are very thoroughly wrong. JK Rowling is the proud owner of the Harry Potter universe, and though I am jealous, I still love her.
This story is dedicated to my sister and my best friend. He is everything I said he would be. Promise.
The shadows shifted across his form as she slowly made her way through the gloomy room. Finally she settled at a table, taking care to make sure that her hood obscured her face. Was he the one that she had been instructed to meet? She placed a hurried order with the bar witch, masking her voice, as she often did when traveling on behalf of the Dark Lord. While she waited for her drink, she carefully studied the room around her.
The only exit appeared to be the door through which she had come. The windows were shrouded, both dusty curtains and rusted iron bars concealing the dark paned glass. She doubted whether the sun ever penetrated the murkiness inside, even during the daylight hours. Next she studied the people sitting in the bar. There were about a dozen people scattered at different tables around the room. There were a few pairs, talking quietly. One couple seemed to be unable to break eye contact, but they weren't smiling. There were also several people sitting alone. All of them had their faces concealed in some way except for one older man who had his eyes closed, his fingers somberly rubbing his temples, and an empty mug on the table before him. There was also a trio, two wizards and a witch sat in a booth very near the door, laughing loudly and throwing back drinks quickly, judging by the empty mugs and goblets on their table.
Her eyes returned at last to the figure that had initially captured her attention. He was sitting in the darkest corner, a black cloak covering his entire body, the hood pulled almost completely over his face. All that she could see of him was a partially obscured, rather strong looking jaw. Judging by his height, even when sitting, he was definitely a wizard, a relatively tall wizard. She had been told that he would give a sign. Someone from the ministry had decided to sell secrets to the Dark Lord. The problem was that the scheduled meeting was believed to be a trap. So she had been sent.
She was used to being expendable, to being thrust into dangerous situations, but to be sent on what many believed to be a suicide mission had been almost too much. Her resolve had been strengthened. She had finally been focused and motivated enough to create a third persona and be useful once again to the Dark Lord. Tonight she would prove that the informant was indeed a trap while escaping capture. As an added bonus, she would present her own furthered abilities. He would be immensely pleased. Her smile grew, the more she thought about it.
She was shaken from her thoughts as the cloaked man abruptly stood and made his way toward the door. She was surprised to realize that as she had been thinking, she had also been staring. She cursed Tom, knowing that it was he who had been distracting her. She had given up hope long ago, but for some reason she couldn't quell the stirrings of her heart when she pleased him. She couldn't endure his contempt when she didn't please him.
But, that had been a sign. Had it not? She glanced around the bar, looking for the bar witch, who had never delivered her drink. She was strangely absent. She took a deep breath and stood up, skimming the room once more. Her eyes settled on the old man, still rubbing his temples and looking extremely tired. As she looked he glanced at his watch. She turned and briskly made her way to the door.
The street outside was dark and filled with shadows, the few streetlamps in the vicinity giving a feeble glow. She turned abruptly to the right, not wanting to hesitate and look suspicious. She scanned the streets for any sign of the cloaked man, relieved that he had the sense to want to sell his secrets without scrutiny from onlookers. After walking down several blocks she paused, wondering if he hadn't gone in the opposite direction. Suddenly from the alleyway across the street a stunning spell was thrown. There had been no warning as she had not heard the spell cast, but she instinctively and silently did a shield charm. She started running before the caster could throw another. She abruptly dropped her disguise so that she could focus and concentrate on the task at hand. She could feel a spell coming and she dodged it narrowly. As it flew past it blew her hood back, revealing her face in the weak radiance of a nearby streetlamp. He had been anticipating her movements and she was hit, full on by a stunner. She froze mid stride and fell to the ground, scraping her elbow and bruising her shoulder in the process.
She winced, and struggled against the magic that was holding her, desperate to get out of the full body bind, even as the originator of the spell levitated her rigid body toward him in the alleyway. Her clothes moved with the slight wind, and her hair swung into her face as her body moved. As her body hovered in front of him, she knew that he must be a powerful wizard as all Slytherin girls were expert at breaking the full body bind. Finally she broke free, her body slumping down into a kneeling position before him, panting from the strain of breaking the spell. Her breathing was loud in her head and it took a moment before she had the courage to look up at the imposing figure before her.
The streetlight illuminated his upper half, which consisted of varying degrees of shadow. "Nice work," he growled, "Breaking out of that stunner." She could see his wand trained on her, her own wand grasped in a hand that was pressed to the sidewalk near her knees. She looked up at him fearlessly, silently. "Why?" he demanded, "Were you staring at me?"
Her first thought, that the situation had indeed been a set up, and that she would be fighting for her life suddenly vanished. This was not him, she thought frantically, knowing that she needed to get back to the bar immediately. He saw her glance back in the direction of the pub and paused. He frowned and was about to say something when a loud boom resounded in the air. Her eyes widened fearfully and he threw himself on top of her, muttering a spell to protect them as an immense explosion rocked the street.
After her initial shock she opened her eyes, her breathing quick and frightened as she watched the debris rebounding off the shield that he had erected for the both of them. It had been a trap, she thought distraughtly. If not for the man on top of her she would be dead. Her gaze moved from over his shoulder to his face, mere centimeters from her own. The dim light and angle obscured the majority of his face, but she could see his eyes, staring into her own. They were unflinching, cold, and intelligent. Like Tom's. She was captured by his gaze, her head filling with fear and hurt, her frightened expression turning to a grimace of pain. She closed her eyes against him and shook her head slightly.
Suddenly several loud cracks resounded in the empty street. Both of them looked up, knowing that the members of the ministry, aurors and magical law enforcement would soon be all over the scene. Her eyes met his, "I'll take of this," she said, not bothering to hide her voice, "Get out here as soon as you can"
He sat up and watched as she stood up and dusted off her robes. Then, before his eyes, she changed. She became… someone else… someone familiar. Even her clothes had transformed from a black cloak into a lacy pink, and rather revealing dress. But he couldn't figure out who she was. He watched as she took a deep breath and stumbled out of the alleyway toward the nearest auror.
"Miss Aislade!" the auror said, obviously surprised and concerned, "What are you doing here?"
"I-I," she stuttered expertly, "I'm not sure. I-I don't remember. I- Where am I?"
He grimaced at her voice, higher pitched and more sugary than her previous voice, even while he commended her acting ability. She must have swooned into his arms because she made a sound of infirmity and he called out to another auror. After ringing footsteps approached, the first man said, "Its Annie. I think she's been confounded or under the Imperious. She doesn't know she got here."
"That's strange," said the other, deeper voice. "We had better get her to St. Mungo's. Make sure that she is okay."
He listened, somewhat derisively as the two men briefly argued about which of them was going to take her. The second man, obviously the elder finally won out. As the auror disapparated, taking Annie Aislade with him, he disapparated as well, hoping that the loud crack from his disappearance wouldn't be overheard.
He appeared immediately in his own residence, a comfortable flat that was well hidden from any that may try to find him. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment before slumping down into an easy chair. For the first time in many months, Severus Snape had decided that he needed to get out. He expected to be followed, he was after all a highly sought after criminal. The Ministry and many others would be very glad to be the ones to bring Dumbledore's murderer to justice.
Obviously, he had been misidentified. By that Annie whatever her name was. His shock had come when she first came at him, the streetlight illuminating her form, the wind from a dodged spell knocking back her hood. She was beautiful. It had been a long time since he had been able to identify those that sat around him, as many of the Death Eaters preferred to keep their identities under wraps. She had long straight black hair that had swung around like a curtain when she had been stunned. And she had wide, expressive blue eyes that had turned cold on him as she looked at him, had become distant, and detached. They had reminded him of other eyes… He shook his head, unwilling to dwell on his past.
He thought absent mindedly about Annie. She had been very skilled at breaking the stunning spell. And he had been taken off guard when she had metamorphmagized into someone else. Maybe it was just the fact that she had changed into a very different someone else. Her long black hair had turned into a curly blond creation. Her pale skin had become more tanned and her black garb had been altered into a lacy pink confection. She could not have looked any different. The worst part was that he knew her. He was sure that he recognized not only her altered appearance but also her name and sugary voice. But he could not recall when he had seen or heard her.
His curious expression turned sour as he realized the stupidity of his contemplations. He was one of the most accomplished wizards of the age, definitely the best of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. Yet, here he sat, alone in his flat. He was too important to be sent out on any routine task. He was useful to have around during meetings, when he, like most others, shielded his face and identity. Death Eaters weren't in it to make friends; they were in it for the glory. So, where as previously he had been mistrusted for his association with Dumbledore and Hogwarts, he was now mistrusted, even envied for being the Dark Lord's favorite. Life for Severus Snape had definitely changed.