Awaken Before the Emerald Dawn
By: trappedineternity
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warning: slash, talks about rape, violence, suicide. Fun stuff
Side note: Thank you to all who have commented and have been keeping up this long. Thank you all for reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter. On another note, chapter 11 use to be something completely different… But I haven't read over this story in so long, I no longer liked the direction it was taking. So I am changing it a little. For those of you who have read the previous chapter 11, my apologies. For those of you who haven't, you have nothing to worry about. The main plot hasn't changed… just the route I'm taking to get there
Chapter 11
Would you like to save?
(Revised)
Severus Snape was the most feared professor in all of Hogwarts; and now that he thought about it, probably the most talked about as well, next to the new DADA professor. He could send the bravest of first years into a fit of hysterical crying in a matter of moments. His temper was legendary, his detentions easily given. All students were aware of his presence when he entered a room. Even Potter forced himself to shut his mouth as he walked in.
Potter! Why had he thought about that insufferable brat again! Since his escape into the past, it was all his mind seemed to think and brood over. You would think that Snape had done enough. Sending that boy to another time had cost a lot of energy, not to mention could have cost him his life! Did he appreciate it? No. Did anyone? Not one bit. It was the boy's daring escape. No one ever thinks he had help!
Time travel was a strange phenomenon to say the least. But the longer Potter was away, the more Snape seemed to forget about his very presence. The new memories that the brat was bound to create were swimming around in his mind, as if both of his lives were in conflict. These memories came as dreams, they were vivid, but if forced to recall, he had trouble trying to grasp them.
He, of course, remembered a Harry Winters. How Winters had helped him… stopped him from doing a ghastly mistake… And now that Snape thought about it, he couldn't remember what had stopped him from taking his life that night the first time… He remembered their Christmas exchange. How he felt so happy that someone other than his dear mother had given him something, had given up the time to actually go out and pick something for him, had thought about him.
Snape gave a soft sigh and shook his head. It was going to be a long night. He sat down in his comfortable chair behind his desk and waved his hand. Out of the cabinet floated a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He poured himself a glass and took a sip. The liquor tingled on his tongue before becoming a slow, pleasant burn down his throat and stomach. His eyes closed lazily as he sank deeper into his chair. All he had to do was keep his thoughts away from Potter and they would be fine.
The Potion's Master too his favorite eagle feathered quill and dipped it into a crimson ink well. He took the first of his essays and started to read. He was confronted by the small, cramp writing of Ms. Granger. He always hated starting with hers… It took three times as long to get through… He started to read through it… Facts, facts, fact, as if copied out of a book. He gave it an acceptable grade and shook his head. Next! Neville Longbottom. Now here we are…
Somehow, he just lacked his usual venom. Looking over Longbottom's essay didn't please him at all… He kept thinking of Potter, and how he wouldn't be reading an essay from him… How he wouldn't be able to give a bad grade even as he knew Potter had probably stayed up all night trying to get it done acceptably.
Snape gave a vicious shake of his head. "Good riddance! He would have done disastrous anyways. This is much better, more time to focus on my own needs!", he muttered to himself before rising to his feet. He couldn't do this tonight, not while his mind decided it would turn to Potter every few moments…
Life was simple these days… Not that he enjoyed them all that much anymore. His classes were boring, having to teach these brats something about the delicate art of potions. None of them seemed very gifted… not naturally so. Ms Granger was all books, not from real feeling like a real potion master should be. She had no love for the subject, only that it was a class that she must excel in because that is what she did… excelled in books smart. He grinned as he thought of the day where those books might fail her, and she would be stuck working on instinct instead of memorized knowledge. If such a day would come, he hoped he would be there to watch.
Granger and Weasley had been most subdued since their Golden Boy disappeared. Of course, Dumbledore told them where he was and that he was safe, but that didn't seem to put them at ease.
It would seem that the disappearance of the Boy-who-Lived had affected a lot of people. Draco was less eager to start a fight with his arch nemesis out of the way. He was calm and quiet and much the eager student. Part of Severus wished that Potter would never come back, so that he could keep this relative peace… Another screamed and kicked him for thinking such a thing. He didn't know what part of his that way, but he wished he could poison it…
He pulled on the outer shell of his robes and walked out into the halls of his beloved dungeon, after of course finished his glass of whiskey. Why was his mind so stuck on Potter? He saved the boy's life! With great risk to his own, remember! Voldemort had been livid. He remembered the journey down these halls as he headed towards the headmaster's office. The way his body had been wracked with the Cruciatus curse, as did the bodies of all the other deatheaters, not that that was any consolation. Not only that, but Voldemort had asked him to stay behind and join him at the Riddle Manor… No! Don't think about that!
His mind turned instead to another incident where he moved through these halls, hobbling. He could see himself, hugging his chest, blood dripping from his arm after a particularly rough visit with Voldemort. He struggled to heal it, leaning against the wall.
He had nowhere else to turn. His life had hit rock bottom. The Potters. Voldemort was going to kill the Potters. Not the Longbottoms… The two parents of the Longbottom boy had put up quite a fight, but, ultimately the deatheaters won, even if they were caught in the end, not that he cared for Bellatrix really. She had tortured them into insanity, got off on the screams and agonizing sobs. The boy had escaped though, the Order of the Phoenix arriving just in time to save him… though not the boy's parents.
The boy and his grandmother were now quite safe, which, of course, made Voldemort quite upset. Now, he would have to find another child, someone else born in July that fit the prophecy… The Potters.
He had heard that Lily and Potter had married and had a child. Lily had been kind to him… He had apologized for the episode where he insulted her and they forced a sort of friendly rivalry. He was thankful for her really. They might not have been close friends, but at least he had someone with who he could share his thoughts with, or at least his potion theories. She had earned his respect.
To hear that Voldemort planned to massacre the family made him sick. He thanked the gods they were safe… But still, he regretted it now, overhearing that prophecy, singling her family out of the entire wizarding community. He hoped they would find another child and kill it instead.
But he still walked through those halls as he had done every Friday night, to play chess with Dumbledore. Voldemort let him go, as he knew he made a nice spy, and shouldn't change his routine. Severus was becoming quickly sickened and very tired. His life was empty. Everyone seemed well off but him. Lucius had married Narcissa as it was arranged at birth, and they had a wonderful boy, whom he was the godfather of. Even with the marriage, Lucius had made his lusts for Severus clear. Draco, now a year old, would be spoiled he knew, but never loved, at least not by his father.
Snape remember that night clearly too… the chess match with Dumbledore. Severus was million miles away. He remembered Dumbledore moving his bishop forward. "Check, Severus. You can't keep running, you know." The young man looked up in surprise. "Huh?", he asked, his eyes widened just a fraction. "You'll run out of pieces to protect your king."
Thinking about it, Dumbledore probably knew he was a deatheater by that point… And was hinting at him… He couldn't run that long after that… When Voldemort left to kill them, Severus had run to Dumbledore. He had come too late to save them… but at least Dumbledore was able to give the boy a home… Everything had happened so fast, Snape wished he had learnt of Wormtail's betrayal sooner…
Soon, Snape arrived at the headmaster's office. He was a little early, but nothing that the old coot would notice. "Chocolate Orange.", he spat, his voice dripping with venom. Some things never changed, and the headmaster's unhealthy obsession with sweets was one of those strange comforts in life, no matter how old you were.
Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, as he had been for the last twenty years. Their chess board was already set up; the black pieces facing the empty chair, which he soon occupied…
"Ah, good evening my boy. How were your classes today?" The typical icebreaking question, but he knew where this was going all to well. That twinkle in those blue eyes knew something they shouldn't. "Same as always, sir.", he replied emotionlessly. "Something bothering you my boy?" As if he didn't already know. Well, two could play at this game. "No sir." "Nothing at all?", he asked, that maddening twinkle was on full force this evening. "No sir.", he replied again. "Are you quite sure?" Well, now that I think about it, Flitwick had suggested that we mud-wrestle in a vat of jell-o and flubberworms. "Just thinking and brooding, sir." "Oh? What about?" Well, I wondered if it should be a private affair, or if you and Minerva would join us? "Harry Potter, sir."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled even more. "Oh? What about Mr. Potter?" This game was become tiresome fast. Dumbledore knew it. But then, the old coot could read his thoughts through legillemence, even as he tried to block him. He could see the laughter in his eyes as he listening to Snape's inner responses. "Tea?", the headmaster offered as if he sensed nothing wrong. "Yes, please." Dumbledore magicked them both a cup. Severus reached for it and nods. "I was just wondering how long the brat would remain in the past… meddling…"
They were nearing the root of the problem, but Dumbledore seemed to have stopped listening; his gaze was transfixed on his hand. He followed those blue eyes and saw a jagged scar form on his palm. "What…?", he muttered. He pulled back his sleeve and watched as the line cut into his hand and then his arm, soon followed by strange arcane symbols.
It took him a moment to realize the spell. He wasn't bleeding or chanting… How..? Dumbledore watch him with strange fascination. "Severus?", he asked. A scar… But he had never preformed this spell before… Of course he had read it… It was in a dark art book his mother had given him…
Suddenly, the memories ghosted around in his mind. THAT BOY WAS MEDDLING! Time travel was a tricky thing. Things would get back to normal when Harry was done messing with his time. Dumbledore watched him a moment before Severus rose up. "I… I have to find the Potter brat… I think I'm…" Dumbledore stood up suddenly as he saw Severus' hand become transparent a moment before becoming solid. He looked at the headmaster with a shocked, panicked expression. "I'm… I'm dying…", he said softly.
To be continued…
Snape: WHY MUST YOU TORTURE ME SO, WOMAN?
Tie: I can't help it, really…. Its just that easy.
Snape: Why you…!
Tie: Hey! Watch your tongue! holds up pen and paper Or we could add brutally raped by a chimp to your tortured past.
Snape: You wouldn't dare…
Tie: Wouldn't I?
Snape: NOOO! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!
Tie: there is only one thing that will make this all stop… the readers… if they demand it enough.
Snape: Please… help…
Tie: AHAHAHAHAHAHA