Bitterly Unrequited
Chapter 5 - Lessons in Intuition
Spoilers and warnings: This story is full of OotP and HBP spoilers. Just to let you know. This story is very angsty and quite dark, and it does contain suicide attempts, self-abuse, murder, and sexual situations. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters, etc. No profit is made, and so on...
A/N: It's been ages since I updated, I know, but I'll try to be more regular with chapters from now on...life keeps getting in the way of my writing. Anyway, please review, etc.
The news made the front page of the Daily Prophet - HOGWARTS STUDENT'S MUGGLE FATHER FOUND DEAD.
Severus Snape, a fifteen-year-old wizard and student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, returned to his home for the summer holidays yesterday at approximately 2:30 p.m. When he entered the house, however, he was met with a terrifying shock - his Muggle father, Tobias Snape, was suspended in the air, dead.
"I...I just walked in and there he was," a distraught Snape told us through his shocked sobs. "I'll never see my father again..."
When Snape arrived at the Ministry of Magic to report this terrible experience, several Aurors were immediately sent to evaluate the situation. When later questioned by the staff here at the Prophet, they grimly divulged that their worst fears had been realized.
"The late Muggle indeed seems to have been killed by the Avada Kedavra curse," an anonymous Auror disclosed. "We cannot find any link to a wizard that would have personal reasons to commit this crime, so it is to be assumed that this is a yet another example of the Muggle-hatred that has been expressed by Dark wizards throughout history..."
Voldemort folded up the newspaper, allowing a slightly disturbing smile to enter his face as he looked at the boy before him. "An interesting thought, taking your story to the Ministry."
Snape shrugged. "Well, my Lord, it'd look rather suspicious if I came home, found my father dead, then just decided to not mention it, wouldn't it? And you're the one that told me that followers of the Dark Lord do not get caught."
"Oh, I am not reprimanding you - not by any means. It had originality, and quite some style to it. Groveling with your sob story to the Ministry to avoid suspicion...it was quite well done. You have undoubtably proved yourself, Snape...come here."
Severus stepped forward, suddenly shivering with anticipation and fear. He slowly pulled up his long robe sleeve on his left arm, staring at the pale, scarred skin, and held it out to his master. Voldemort put his wand to the cold flesh and whispered an incantation, causing the most terrible, burning, searing pain. He bit his lip in concentration, so much he tasted blood in his mouth - but if there was one lesson his father had taught him, it was that, no matter what the circumstance, a Snape did not cry...the pain was nearly unbearable now. He thought he would burst with one more minute of this agony...but then it was over.
He looked down at his arm - there were bright green flames glimmering on his skin in the pattern of a snake and skull. The flames died, and left in their place a burned mark on his arm...the Dark Mark.
A green jet was emitted from Snape's wand, and the other man fell dead. He gave the body the familiar upward flick of his wand and walked outside the door. He lifted his wand and said in a terrible voice, "Mors Modre" and gave a satisfied nod at the green design of light that floated above the house, then Disapparated.
"Edgar Bones is dead, my Lord," he murmured, kneeling at his master's feet.
"Very well, Snape," he said. "I have your next assignment for you."
"Anything, my Lord," Snape said eagerly.
"Go back to Hogwarts."
Severus stared at him. "But please, sir...surely I am of more use to you here than learning pointless spells I've known for years...is it truly necessary..."
"Are you suggesting," said the other coldly, harshly, "that you know better than Lord Voldemort, Snape?"
"No, my Lord, I only thought..."
"Indeed. Well, you were wrong. You will be best of use to me at Hogwarts."
He slowly entered the train, reported to the Prefect's compartment for a few moments, where he narrowly avoided Lily. He looked for an empty compartment to sit in, and found, to his great annoyance, that there never was one. He hesitantly entered one that was filled other Slytherins who were in his year or near it. He sat away from the crowd, without a word of greeting to any of them, and they equally ignored his existence - even among his own house he was unpopular. He sat by the window and stared at the pouring rain outside as the train began to pick up speed, slowly and unknowingly rubbing his left forearm.
The others in the compartment were socializing among each other, talking about their summers and various events. He ignored them, thinking of his own summer - he had murdered seven people in cold blood in the last two months...the screams were distinct in his mind. He didn't feel guilty...it was merely a memory, neither good nor bad. He felt simply unable to feel...
A girl was speaking in a harsh, but beautiful voice. "Please," she said haughtily, her eyebrow arched, "you really think that OWLs matter now? It's just a letter - it has nothing to do with real life. I got a D in Defense Against the Dark Arts, it was hilarious."
A boy across from her laughed. "How'd you manage that, Bella?"
"Oh, the practical segment of the test. I kept messing up...apparently they didn't appreciate me jinxing the old bats giving the exam with the spells I was supposed to be performing the countercurse to..."
The boys swooning around her laughed wholeheartedly, each trying to gain her attention. Severus focused his attention briefly on the girl - Bellatrix Black, the most popular girl among the boys at Hogwarts - mainly because she had slept with most of them. She was beautiful, that was undeniable - her hair was long, black and shiny, and her eyes held a consuming fire within them. She was as opposite from sweet Lily Evans as could be, and yet she was the only other girl Snape had ever felt himself attracted to.
She saw him looking at her. "Snape," she said, acknowledging him, "how was your summer?"
"Fabulous," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as usual.
"Really?" Her lip curled. "I heard your father died."
"That's why it was fabulous, of course," he said, his eyebrows raised, saying it as though it were an obvious answer.
She grinned. "He was a Muggle, wasn't he?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, the world's better off, then, isn't it? Funny, really," she said, surveying him critically, "when the papers said your Muggle father was dead, I was surprised. You always seemed like such a Pureblood."
"Why, thank you," he said sardonically.
She was looking at him, her eyebrow arched. "Boys," she said, looking at the other occupants of the compartment, "leave us."
Looking disappointed, Avery, the Lestrange brothers, Rookwood, and Rosier all left the compartment, glaring jealously at Snape as though they wondered why Bellatrix had singled him out, of all the unlikely people.
She was staring at him surveyingly. "They say you've joined the Death Eaters."
His eyebrow shot up. "Who says?"
"My brother-in-law, Lucius Malfoy. He says that you joined the Dark Lord's forces over the summer, and that you've already proved yourself far beyond the expectations of a sixteen-year-old wizard."
"And you serve the Dark Lord as well?"
She proudly raised her left sleeve, a look of defiant triumph lighting her dark features. "Malfoy told me to speak to you. He said you knew a surprising amount of the Dark Arts."
"I do."
"You look guilty."
He stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"You look like you feel guilty about something...It's obvious you're new to killing. When you kill, it has to be ruthless - no remorse, no pity, because pity only brings guilt. You've not done anything but the Dark Lord's orders - you have nothing to feel guilty about. One thing I've learned, Snape - emotions are pointless, and they show weakness."
She was moving closer to him now. "It's better to act on feelings, act without thought or premeditation, merely do what seems natural..." She was much too close now... "It's better to merely...do whatever presents itself to you...to follow your intuition..."
Her small hands were moving up his chest as she spoke. He had her face between his hands, holding her roughly as they kissed. This girl he rarely talked to before, this girl he in no way trusted, was now snaking her sweet but rough tongue into his mouth, and he returned the favor. She was now straddling him, his hands exploring her shoulders and back. They were both nearly rid of their robes before Bellatrix grabbed her wand and created curtains for the windows of the compartment...
"You see," panted Bellatrix well over half an hour later, as she leaned her sweating, naked body against the walls of the small room, "now that is what I mean by following your intuition."
Snape smirked, looking over at the girl beside him. "You're such a little whore, Bellatrix," he observed casually.
She snorted, looking at him mockingly. "I didn't see you complaining, Snape, unless," she put on a blissful face and moaned in a low, orgasmic voice, "Oh yes...oh my God, more...is a complaint."
He laughed - her imitation had been annoyingly accurate. "Oh, believe me, Bellatrix, I'm not complaining. I find it highly unlikely that any male would protest your - how shall I say it - lack of common morals."
"Indeed not," came her reply as she slipped blithely back into her robes, cleaning the compartment with a quick sweep of her wand.
He too got dressed as Bellatrix turned back to her, looking into his dark eyes. "But you get it now, don't you? Killing is quite like a quick and dirty shag, in essence - it has to be done on intuition, without regrets or fears. It really simplifies things to just get the highs of life while they last, you know?"
He nodded. Perhaps Bellatrix indeed had a point - what, he reasoned, is the point of thinking about unnecessary things?