Bitterly Unrequited
Chapter 15 - A Snape Does Not Cry
A/N: I hope you all enjoy this chapter – it was extremely difficult for me to write, and I'm only about 60 happy with it, honestly. Please review it, it'd mean a lot to me. On another note, wow, I have over 1000 hits on this story! That's extremely exciting...of course, it means only 1 of the readers are reviewing, but hey. So, here's the chapter.
Severus stared at his reflection in the mirror, feeling nothing but the utmost misery. Could it have only been fours years ago since the last time he looked in the mirror like this, heartbroken by Lily's rejection? It seemed at least a lifetime ago. He was so innocent then – he was a troublemaker, yes, to be sure, but he had never committed actual crimes at that point. He had not had the ideal life, even then, an abused, withdrawing child, but compared to his life now, it seemed like a heavenly dream. In those beautiful, gleaming days of naive childhood, he was not a thief, not a liar, not a spy, not a drinker, not a murderer, not a heartless, sadistic man who could torture for pleasure...
Not a rapist.
The word echoes through his mind, a condemning accusation which he wished with all his heart that he could deny. Lily's voice, Lily's face, Lily's screams, Lily's pleading eyes...all of it clattered through his head, never giving him more than a few second's peace. He tried to block out the guilty, but it would not work – nothing did.
He turned again towards the mirror, surveying himself critically as he always did as a child and adolescent. He was still just as pale, scrawny, and unhealthy, although he had gained a few inches to his height over the last few years. He essentially looked just as he had as a fifteen-year-old loner, but now his face was lined with cares and worries far beyond his nineteen years.
He rolled up his robe's sleeve. There, on the pale, thin arms, was written the story of his life, in scares. The oldest witnesses were the marks still there from his father's nightly beatings and attacks. On his forearm was the Dark Mark, his brand of servitude to an abusive and deranged lord. Near his shoulder was a fresh scratch which he received from a frantic, escape-driven Lily the night before. But dominating his arms in number and in depth were the self-inflicted wounds from his early teenage years.
Without even consciously acknowledging it, Snape had drawn his wand and held it on his arm automatically. He tried to convince himself to logical – there was no point in reverting back to his adolescent melodrama. But if only he could bleed away the guilt.
He took a breath and murmured "Sectumsempra," the familiar sensation of splitting flesh consuming him as he watched the beautiful red river again run down his arm...
Snape sat at his table in the dining room of Spinner's End on Halloween night, 1981, now twenty-one years old. He sat reading the Daily Prophet darkly, attempting not to think of his deeds of the previous night. He had been with the Death Eater's raid of the homes of many Order members, and he shuddered to think of his murderers...He shook away the thoughts, knowing it would do no good to contemplate it.
Lucius apparated into the room, looking pale, disheveled, and wide-eyed. Severus stood up immediately and strode to the other man. "Lucius, what happened? What's..."
"He's dead, Severus," Malfoy rasped, his voice halting and panicked. "The Dark Lord is dead."
Snape stared at him, unable to comprehend his comrade's word. "What do you mean, dead?" he asked, confused and shocked. "But...Lucius, how?"
"The prophecy, Severus...the prophecy you heard and reported to the Dark Lord. Son of parents who defied him three times...born in July...all of it. The Dark Lord went to kill this child tonight." He paused. "The child was Lily's son, Severus – Harry Potter."
Snape felt his heart seem to stop inside his chest. "Is...is...he...is she..."
"He went to kill the kid. He killed James first, trying to get to the boy...then he went to kill Harry...Lily was trying to protect him, and the Dark Lord killed her too..."
Snape was silent, unable to think or feel anything but the flooding sensation of the cold, drowning news. Lucius continued talking, and Severus became numbly aware of the fact that Harry had somehow survived and Voldemort had died...
He said he would spare her. He swore to me that if I served him well, that I never failed him, he would spare her life for my sake. I could have joined Dumbledore's side ages ago, as I wanted to...but I couldn't, because he might kill Lily...my God, Lily's gone...
"Leave me, Lucius," Snape whispered dangerously.
"Snape, don't you understand? The Dark Lord is dead, and the Aurors and members of the Order will be hunting us down! They'll throw us in Azkaban or let the Dementors have us, Snape! We have to run, now. He's not here to protect us anymore..."
"He never was to begin with," Snape muttered.
"Snape, I'm not joking...we need to get out of..."
"Leave me, Malfoy, now."
"Fine, Severus. Enjoy your stay in Azkaban, then..." And with that, Lucius disapparated.
Severus stared at the walls, the ceilings, anything and everything. Lily is dead...what does escaping matter now? He clutched his arms to him, his body and soul cold. The last time he had seen her was two years ago, seeing her naked, trembling form, hating himself with a vengeance, and he knew now that that image would never leave him, that this would be his strongest memory of Lily...
It was his fault she died. He had overheard the prophecy that led Voldemort to Harry, and he had reported it to his lord like a faithful Death Eater. Had he not mentioned it, Lily would be alive now. He felt a tear slip down his face, and he angrily wiped it away, trying to force himself to stop crying...
Within an instant, memories consumed his mind at random...
His mother was tucking him in as a very small child... "Go to sleep, Severus...I won't let him hurt you, dearest..."
Voldemort was looking down at him, that intense light in his eyes..."Serve me well, Severus, and the girl will be spared..."
He softly said, "Avada Kedavra!" and watched the life drain from the small girl's eyes as he left the McKinnon house, conjuring the Dark Mark...
"It was almost powerful enough to make me think that I could have loved you..." Lily leaned down and kissed his cheek...
He sat, painstakingly brewing the Polyjuice Potion...
He was staring in a mirror, gazing fondly at his own blood pooling around him...
"I just needed to tell you that anything that ever was or ever could be between is gone now, Severus..."
"Now that," Bellatrix panted, "is what I consider following your intuition..."
"Severus, are you crying?" the man jeered, his voice cold and hateful as he laughed at his son..."How many times must I tell you, you little freak - you will not cry in front of me. Crying shows weakness. Are you weak, Severus?"
His father's voice echoed relentlessly in his mind, and the tears continued to stream. "No!" he screamed, rocking back and forth, digging his fingernails into his arms in concentration, "Crying shows weakness. Crying shows weakness. A Snape does not cry. I will not cry...I will...not...I am not weak..."
He stood up, wiping away his tears. "Crying is weakness, and I am not weak. A Snape does not cry."