A/N: Disclaimer JKR's, not mine…

-------------------

-------------------

Chapter 4: A Tainted Heart

-------------------

By the end of the year, the Severus Snape that left on the train was a much different Slytherin than when he had first stepped off of it ten months ago. He was almost revered by his House and was top of his classes, whichever year he was with. He was also partner to Lucius Malfoy, each the closest thing to a best friend either of them had. An optimistic, anxious and yet mature boy he was no longer; instead, he was a powerful, manipulative, secretive, and vengeful young man. His decisions had forced him down the path to manhood sooner than he should have undertaken it, but he had managed.

The nightly practices had kept him sane through the months of ordeal, and he longed for the simplicity of a black-and-white world to have to deal with during the day. As much as he excelled at playing mind games and manipulating the masses, as good or as natural as he was, it had worn on him; all he wanted was a peaceful, ungarnished reality. Seeing as how that seemed to contradict itself, he grasped at the only time he was able to get it: when he was alone, released from the necessity to weave and cobble together a story or keep it all in his head. The result was a hardened, world-weary eleven-year-old who valued isolation and a severe style over almost all else.

The level of hatred between himself and Black was off the charts, and now the whole gang was engaged in an all-out war with him, and he them. Deep, deep down in some small part of him, he knew his ire should be solely reserved for Black, but after the incident with the Whomping Willow, he hated them all: Black for "pulling him in," fooling him; Potter, for having to pull him out; Lupin, for the fear he had raised in Severus' throat when he had caught sight of him; and, even more than them, he hated Dumbledore for his inaction.

Once again, the whole thing was a direct result of Black's arrogance and faulty logic. A month or so before the incident, Severus had been practicing his forms as usual in an abandoned classroom. Physically spent, his mind had still been troubled hours later. He could no longer productively exercise, and so retired to the great windows along the outer wall of the room and castle. The moon had been full and bright. Gazing up at it, picking out the shadows and letting his imagination run loose, he had let his mind wander over inane matters. However, down on the grounds, it seemed as if fate was aspiring against him and the peace he just couldn't seem to find.

His attention was pulled from the heavens by the motion – or rather, cessation of motion – of the Whomping Willow. To his disbelief, a large canine was emerging from it, and there were already two sizeable animals waiting. Where did they come from? Had they come out of the Whomping Willow before he had noticed? Or had they been waiting for one more to join them; in which case, were they from the forest?

All other thoughts had been pushed out of his head when the figures had cleared away from the remobilized tree and he could get a good, unobstructed look at them. It was an odd group by any standards, and as they had moved off towards the forest he was able to identify them.

The first was clearly corvine. With its deep chest and strong lines, it was obviously a buck whose antlers had been newly shed.

The second was an oversized canine, dark across the moonlit expanse of the grounds. It was jogging after the hart, nipping and butting the last, other large canine. Severus was in seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts for a reason, and his insides froze as he easily recognized it for what it must have been: a werewolf.

The sound of his heart racing and his breath loud in his ears, he had calmed himself, taking care to remind himself that he was safely ensconced in the castle, many Quidditch fields away from the receding band.

The next morning before his Herbology class, he had approached the Whomping Willow, inspecting it for any sort of tunnel or rot-out from which the werewolf could have emerged. Once again, the pinheaded Gryffindor quartet interrupted, turning his attention away from the tree in question. Actually, that day, the quartet had been a trio, and as he didn't really want to be unpleasantly distracted by them, he used that to his advantage, turning it into an insult.

"What, he couldn't stand you anymore? Or has he finally come to his senses and now realizes how truly repulsive you lot are?" he had taunted, after making a faux enquiry into their missing counterpart's whereabouts. It seemed to trouble them more than he'd anticipated, because after one apprehensive glance between Black and his sidekick, James Potter, they'd abandoned the insults and jumped him. The scuffle had resulted in a quick jaunt up to the Hospital Wing for all three of them, their third counterpart tagging along as well. By the time they got back to class and had to endure point losses and lectures on proper conduct, he'd had no time to spare a further thought on the matter.

Looking back, he saw how his interest in the Willow and Lupin's absence might have lead them to believe he knew more than he did. If that'd been the case, the physical assault was a perfect distraction, and it had worked. Mr. Lupin had returned to class the next day, and as the moon worked itself on the way to a new, he did not consider the matter further. It was only weeks later with the moon almost full again that he'd noticed Lupin gone once more, and had pulled out and dusted off the insults to go with. That time he'd caught Black alone. Once their curses had reduced each other to barely functioning and disfigured states, he'd felt the need to temper his retreat with a parting shot. It was then that, only still standing straight through force of will and inability to fold in front of Black, he'd been as confused and intrigued as hell by the other's comment.

"Just poke the large knot on the south-facing side of the Whomping Willow, and you'll find out where Remus is!" he had said. Why would he be the whereabouts of some silly Gryffindor concern him? But then the last month's viewing came to mind, and he had started to wonder.

The next night he had set out early, just at dusk, all precautions taken should he have run into the werewolf. He had purposely chosen a time that he knew its partners would not be around (if they followed any sort of routine, that was), and he was carrying a silver cross tucked carefully inside his cloak pocket. He'd been delayed by having to avoid Madame Pomfrey, who had been traversing the Entrance Hall. It was a bit late for her to have been exiting from dinner, but he supposed that was her prerogative.

He'd found it, all right, that knot. He got a nasty scrape from one of the Willow's branches before he'd gotten to it, but he didn't much care as the roots had parted, revealing the gap down into the tunnel he'd been looking for earlier. He'd just started to lower himself when three things happened simultaneously: he saw Remus Lupin at the far end shudder and start to transform; his heart clenched in his throat; and he felt a hand clench around his shoulder and heave him back out. The hand belonged to a furious-looking James Potter.

"What the hell do you think you were doing? You could have been killed, or bitten. I can't believe your petty arguments with Sirius could have pulled you this far; how could you have so blindly fallen into this?"

"Get off me, Potter! I was fully prepared for what was down there, and this only confirms my own suspicions! I'll thank you to keep your nose out of other' business and find some other poor soul to save, because this one is fine and going straight to Headmaster Dumbledore!"

It had not ended well. Dumbledore was entirely supportive of the Gryffindors and hadn't even entertained his charges. He had thought that maybe Dumbledore might have valued his opinion enough to at least listen to it, if he thought he was ready for special placement. He had thought wrong. He had also realized that his mistake had been in trusting Dumbledore, another undependable non-Slytherin.

The whole Gryffindor group that Lupin was a part of looked at him with contempt, and he spent the rest of his altercations trying to get back at them for the slight he felt he'd been dealt. With his new alliance to Lucius, people became much more accommodating towards his hatred of the "marauders," as they liked to call themselves.

Despoilers, more likely.

By people, he meant Slytherins, of course; as much as they took a part in the issue (they had taken to shooting off a curse or so every time they passed the marauders, and what was it to them if it wasn't strictly the marauders they hit? They were all Gryffindors, after all.), so had the Ravenclaws and other Gryffindors. Even the innocuous Hufflepuffs had stirred themselves to glare and, in a humongous step for them, be frosty towards the Snake's House.

In the weeks that followed the incident and the student body became increasingly vicious, Severus would sometimes look up from a meal or turn in the halls and find the Headmaster watching him. It was often with a stare of indeterminable depth, disappointment finding its way to the top. He was responsible for at least then years of carefully fostered inter-House relations going down the drain, but somehow he knew that wasn't what Dumbledore was about – or at any rate, not mainly. The great wizard's personal disapproval could evoke feelings of remorse from a Dementor, but Severus always squelched the reaction. Ruthlessly, he was glad that the halls of Hogwarts had become less carefree and tenser, and that Slytherin was swiftly seceding from the "good and proper" side of things. Deep down somewhere he realized that someone, who wouldn't otherwise have, would walk down the long road to Voldemort and the side of Death, but he couldn't bring himself to care when compared to the indescribable satisfaction that came from being contrary to Dumbledore. Dumbledore preached unity and friendship; he sowed discontent. Dumbledore taught tolerance and understanding; he led the masses in a feud born of prejudices and conclusions that had been jumped to. Dumbledore had told him to hush up; he was making a statement on a grander scale than any first year before could have dreamed.

-------------------

When Serjanus and Kalila received their only son from his first year of schooling, they knew he would be different, changed from their Severus that they had sent out to meet the world. Nothing, though, would have prepared them for the cool, collected, and utterly closed young man who met them at the platform. Oh, they were all Snapes through and through: controlling in emotion, smooth-tongued, manipulative and reserved in action. But the person they welcomed back was far blacker in heart than nine months should have been able to change. The time it took to create a miracle of love had instead created a stain of deformation upon what once had been their miracle. They saw how his wisdom of the world had cost him dearly, his openness and belief that life was fundamentally fair and good dashed upon the rocks of his shattered childhood. The arms that welcomed him back were open and loving, but inside they wept for the little boy who used to delight in the sheer pleasure of running through a field or gazing up at the stars was lost to them forever.