The Prince's Tale

"Sometimes I think we are Sorted too early…" That is what he said to me. This is the story of I, Severus Snape, and all that I have kept secret, yet wish others to know. [DH SPOILERS RUN RAMPANT THROUGHOUT

[Woah, sorry for my absence and lack of updating. I had to go on a college visit (which went badly /) and I am also trying to complete summer homework for English and spend as much time as possible with my friends before they go off to college. Working two jobs also puts me in a bind, so please bear with me as the updates become infrequent with the impending school year And also, thanks for the reviews! Any imput is appreciated greatly!

Chapter Three: Intermission I

I threw myself in the chair of my office, kicking over the footstool. Anger was all that I felt at the moment, anger that had built up over time. That seemed to happen to me a lot these days. I know in public I was the type to be unemotional and harsh, but no one was helping with that.

Every day I walk by Potter, I am forced back into these memories—memories I had wished that I would never relive. He was right in his argument that he did not "strut" like his father, but there was that little bit of swaggering pride that was there.

Maybe I got that feeling because he looked so much like James. I noticed that the first time I had seen the short boy enter Hogwarts his first year. But whenever I looked in those eyes, I was constantly reminded of her. For some reason, as the date of Dumbledore's assigned death loomed nearer, I thought of Lily more often, and those others that I had lost. Hell, I was even forced to think of James, the prat.

Harry would look at me in the same loathing that James gave me, and possibly I looked at James—or Harry, whatever-- in the same way. But those eyes…I would have to catch myself. Yet every time I look at them, I do not see as much of Lily. There is contempt staring right back at me. Of course, Potter probably hates me. It is not like I care though. I care about what he thinks about as much as a flobberworm.

I looked on the table and saw my wand thrown aside on it. There was still blood on the tip from where I had healed Draco's numerous slash wounds from the Sectusempra spell. As soon as I heard that the Malfoy boy had been gravely injured—my source the annoying moaning spectre—I rushed to the area. What greeted me was a pale Harry Potter kneeling in a collecting pool of Draco's blood. There were rips in Malfoy's clothes, as if many knives had slashed at him, leaving behind shallow wounds. Just like the Sectusempra spell that was a, shall I say, speciality of mine. Potter was on his knees, feebily trying to stop the flow of blood, a look of utter shock on his face.

As soon as he saw me, the boy started sputtering out excuses. It was indeed the Sectusempra spell, and immediately I began performing the healing charms on Malfoy. Potter continued to stutter out excuses. I too, was wondering how he had done it. This was not a very popular spell, in fact, I had only written it once or even thought about it once in school: Sixth year potions. I asked him to bring me the book that he had learned this spell from and he brought me a copy of Advanced Potion-Making. I was stunned. How in the world by all chance had Potter come into possession of my book? I snatched it from him and thumbed through the pages, but found nothing. Suspicious, I turned to the front and saw the name 'Roonil Wazlib' scratched in ink on the cover. I looked into Potter's eyes, the ones that gave me an almost daily reminder of her. I performed Leginimins on the boy and found that this was indeed not his book. The other lay somewhere else…somewhere I didn't know.

"This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry, still breathing hard.

"You're quite sure of that, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry, with a touch of more defiance.

"This is the the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yes," said Harry firmly. I could tell I was annoying him. Satisfaction rose within me.

"Then why," I asked, "does it have the name 'Roonil Wazlib' written inside the front cover?"

He was stunned, then clumsily tried to cover up with more excuses. I gave him detention and patched up Malfoy, sending both pathetic youths on their way. It was getting tiresome being assigned to protect two teenagers. They were sixteen. At sixteen, I practically took care of myself! Why must they be so pathetic, Malfoy more so than Potter…

Angry at myself that I had thought up a compliment about Harry Potter, I stormed down the corridor, and who else should I pass but Dumbledore. I made brief eye-contact, but he reached out a hand and grabbed my shoulder.

"Severus, come with me."

Not knowing what else he wanted this time, I followed him to the first empty classroom we came too. He looked around and quickly shut the door.

"Did you say the curse lasted for a year?"

"Yes Headmaster, but I'm not entirely sure," I answered, wondering what he was getting at.

"I—well, to put it bluntly—feel myself weakening. I do not think I will live to see the end of this month. If the time comes earlier then planned then can you—"

"Yes, I know what you will ask me, it's not like I don't think about it often. Poison? Curse? How would you like it?" I said this with the air of a waiter informing a patron about the specials of the day.

He chuckled, blue eyes twinkling. Why must he find amusement out of these situations? He looked at his impending death so nonchalantly that it was getting somewhat annoying.

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Severus. Please. I do know that it will be hard, and that you will face ridicule and scorn, but I can think of no other way. When the time comes you must do what I say, no matter what is going on."

"Dumbled—"

"Severus?"

"Yes sir, I will."

He nodded curtly and whooshed out of the room swiftly, leaving me there to stare at him with a rather stupid expression on my face. That was quick. Dumbledore always had a way of telling me something that did not help my mood the slightest in the shortest period of time possible. I'm sure that I will get the same feeling even when he dies.

Feeling even fouler than when I had come across Potter and Malfoy, I went to my office and chose to brood over things there while I waited for Harry Potter to arrive to his detention. I had it all planned out. He would sort through the large files that had come in boxes to my room to be sort through. And I knew that one of those boxes was filled to the brim with the actions of James Potter and Sirius Black. The boy was so dense that perhaps this would rub it in his face that his father was an arrogant brat. I was not tormenting him, I was just…trying to educate the ignorant boy. It appeared that I alone knew of the anti-herioics of Potter and Black. All anyone remembered about them was them pulling me out of the Whomping Willow…

I snorted with disgust at the memory. I had been traveling down Memory Lane a lot this year, despite my feelings. At every turn something was there, something to remind me of all that I lost, all that I will lose, and the fact that I am truly destined to be alone.

I laughed cynically. From birth it was that way. Father never cared, and Mother cared sometimes. I practically raised myself. I would come home every day and face them. Father had tried enrolling me in primary school to make me more "normal", but Mother withdrew me later, partially from the severe bullying I went through weekly. It was the same school that Lily went to.

Lily…

Lily was the only person who cared about what I had to say in this world. She was someone whom I could depend on and share things with that I could not share with anyone else. She was also the only one who I—no I am not thinking of this. I repeatedly told myself that, but with no avail. Overwhelming emotion threaten to take me over, not too unlike many nights this year. I will always be alone in my journey. Alone in my task to kill Dubledore. Alone in my allegiance. Alone among the Death Eaters. Alone and away from the only one I—no, musn't think about her.

But how can I not? It was brought to the front of my mind more. With a sigh, I hardly noticed myself drawing out my wand and gave it an almost feeble wave.

The room brightened with a soft glow. Slumped over, I looked up and met the eyes of the doe that caused me grief ever since I started conjuring it a few years after we left Hogwarts. Between the birth of Harry and the death of his parents, this image has come to haunt me again and again. In the company of Death Eaters, I had to hide the fact that I could even conjure a Patronus, and in the company of collegues I did not want them to know that I had a rather different Patronus. Luckily my tasks that Dumbledore assigned within the Order did not require communication such as this.

The doe blinked at me slowly, as if waiting for something. I reached out to touch her on the muzzle, when she looked backwards towards the door of my office, as if expecting something. I withdrew my hand and sighed, looking out the window, scowling. I was acting unlike myself these days. Was I getting, shall I say, soft? No…I will prove to myself tonight with Potter's detention that I am just as strict as before. That was one of Dumbledore's greatest drawbacks: he was too soft-hearted. It only caused pain every time, and I had now taught myself to grow numb to it. Those with pity are foolish.

With my mind wandering, I had failed to notice the door that my Patronus had been staring at was now open. The profile of ugly untidy hair told me that it was Potter. Immediately I broke the charm, angry that he had burst in without knocking.

I stood wand walked swiftly over to him. Luckily his back had been turned when he came in.

"Manners, Potter," I scolded, standing over him, "Knocking is something that civilized people normally do. However it seems difficult for you to act in such a way…"

He looked at me with defiance that pissed me off even more. I whisked away to my desk, taking out boxes upon boxes with disciplinary forms that needed to be sorted. I could not help but smirk. There were better ways of getting the point across other than pain, like that awful woman Umbridge thought.

"Potter!" I snapped. "I want you to file these in order of date, then alphabetize. I think you will recognize some of these: "James Potter and Sirius Black, detention for using illegal hex to make Aubry Burtrace's head three times normal size." I smirked, waiting to see Potter's reaction. He was seething with anger. Good, his anger made me feel satisfied and happier.

As he took out his wand, I flicked my own. His wand zoomed into my outstretched hand.

"With no magic."

He gave a frustrated sigh and set to work. I sat back down, sometimes rising to "correct" Harry on files ("Smith comes after Smite, ignorant boy"). As midnight came and went, I grew tired of Potter's determination to not show any signs of growing tired of the task I had assigned. He was definitely hard-headed, like his mother.

I had to stop myself from giving a microscopic smile. It turned into a frown. I was annoyed with his presence. Shooing him off, I collected the papers he had failed to alphabetize. Using a few simple charms, I sorted the files.

As I was about to sit back down, my right wrist burned fiercely. I suppressed a groan at seeing the Dark Mark shine once again. He was calling me. With a sigh I left my office and went to the fixed Apparation point Dumbledore had set for me whenever the Dark Lord called. Pressing my wand to the Mark and muttering "Morsemorde" I stepped forward into the spinning darkness, coming to rest in a small house.

Two red eyes stared at me, smiling in a way, from the darkness. Clearing my mind from all the incriminating things that Voldemort might see, I moved across from him, giving a bow.

"Evening, My Lord."

[Meh, sorry for the short chapter. I am going to do these small intermissions throughout the fic, probably every three or so. I haven't decided yet if they will be in chronological order. I am trying to keep Snape as in character as possible, while also bringing out his "soft" side. I hope that I am doing okay in portraying his complex personality . As always, please review!