AN: So yes, I have finally edited another chapter. It's shorter than I wanted, but the next will be really long, so I decided to cut it.

Throughout this story ~~~~~~~ will signify changes of POV, while ***** will signify different times.

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Time takes it all whether you want it to or not, time takes it all.
Time bares it away, and in the end there is only darkness.
Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.
- Stephen King
The Green Mile

The Beginning of the Beginning

There is always a period, in war stories, where, though you know that it hasn't, the war seems to pause, and you must reassess your life. Severus, not having a particularly great affinity for war stories, had never thought of this before. He supposed that his period of peace (or what past for peace when you were spying on a megalomaniac wizard for another, quieter, though possibly just as megalomaniacal wizard) began not long after Dumbledore decided that during this period of uncertainty he should attempt to re-instate an ancient Wizarding Tradition. Using it, a mentor could offer an Apprenticeship in any career, with less paperwork to fill in but more responsibility. In rare cases it was also used for Engagements, but those had fallen out of favor long before the Tradition had. It was called Trouver la Trajectoire De Ton Vie, or, at least, now it was. It had had an official Latin name at some point, but it had been lost to Time even before the French attempted to reinstate the Tradition 323 years ago. Severus considered the new name something that sounded like it should have an exclamation point at the end of it, so absolutely ridiculous. Albus wanted to use the Tradition as a way to build ties between the generations soon to be victimized in a war they weren't ready for. The Dark Lord, naturally, agreed with him, and added his own special twist: all the Death Eaters should offer apprenticeships or engagements during the Tradition, which would forge an unbreakable bond between the two people that would last until the end of the contract. Severus enjoyed the irony of both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord using the same means to form bonds, and for nearly the same reasons. It was a rather weak sort of irony, but he had to take it were he found it, at times like these.

Potter, of course, being the quintessential Gryffindor, had been horrified when Snape had related this information to Dumbledore during an Order meeting. Snape supposed it should be surprising that he could still horrify the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Bloody-Die. If he hadn't been so tired, he might even have taken pleasure in the news. As it was, he could only feel a small amount of satisfaction.

"The Dark Lord has made it mandatory for all of his followers to offer some sort of contract."

"Who are you going to ask?" He would have known it was Potter even if he had mimicked Dumbledore's voice. Only Potter would jump straight to wondering which poor student was going to be subjected to the evil, greasy git of a Death Eater.

"I had not thought as far as that. The Dark Lord has no way of ensuring all the bonds are accepted, so I do not need to proposition someone likely to accept. It must, however, be believable that I would wish to offer them an Apprenticeship. Perhaps Granger, or there is a Ravenclaw prefect with a strong aptitude for Potions." It was a pity that Lucius had specifically told Severus not to ask Draco.

Albus nodded, and, as Potter appeared to be deep in thought (no doubt, Severus thought, trying to work his way through what he had just heard) no one else present thought it wise to offer an opinion. It really was fairly sickening how much they depended on the boy.

Albus wrapped up the meeting, and Severus left for some well deserved rest.

Harry didn't pay much attention to the Tradition thingy until Neville was offered an Apprenticeship with Professor Sprout. Neville was ecstatic, needless to say, and none of the boys in his dormitory could get him to shut up about the rules of the Tradition for days. The first two nights after he had been offered the Apprenticeship Neville even talked about it in his sleep. Seamus ( who was all out for the Tradition) Dean (who was almost as clue-less about the Tradition as Harry was) and Ron (who would talk to anyone who would listen about how stupid he thought the Tradition was, but always blushed and fell silent whenever Hermione was near) were quite impressed with 1. Neville's newfound ability to sleep-talk (Harry had pretty much had a monopoly on that one, except for the occasional nightmare talk from Ron) and 2, the fact that Neville could remember that much seemingly random information. Harry wasn't impressed at all with number one, because he was fully able to interrupt his own sleep without someone else doing it for him. When, on the second night after Professor Sprout's offer, Harry remembered that he was a wizard and cast a Silencing Charm on Neville's bed -- effectively cutting of his soliloquy on the proper way to accept an offer—it came as an immense relief.

Harry had Potions the next day. He was hopeful that the increase in his amount of un-interrupted sleep would allow him to concentrate properly... and perhaps manage not to drop something, explode something (usually his cauldron ) or just generally destroy something (e.g. his cauldron, a classmate's cauldron, his ingredients, Snape's robes, the Potions classroom, etc.)

Severus had often wondered when a Death-Eater stops being a Death-Eater. Is it as simple as renouncing their ways? As simple as feeling compassion, pity, even sadness, when you regard the person you are about to torture? If so, Severus was a Death-Eater for a rather short period of time.

But what if that's not it? What if one can only stop being a Death-Eater when the world no longer sees you as one? The public is not a forgiving entity, Severus knows, especially when they are trying to rebuild their world and they regard you as one of the people who destroyed it in the first place.

Or, perhaps, the way to redemption lies deeper. Perhaps the only way to stop being a Death-Eater is to stop regarding yourself as one.

As his N.E.W.T.S. students file into the classroom Severus considers how hopeless it is to even think of redemption. How can he begin to redeem himself in his own eyes if he is forever surrounded by people who think of him as a cruel, deplorable person? It is hard to feel good about yourself when you can see the loathing in any eyes that look at you. The Gryffindors in the group (the Granger girl and Mr.-Somehow-I-Managed-To-Pass-My-OW.L.-In-Potions-Even-Though-I-Never-Show-Any-Aptitude-For-The-Subject-In-Class-Potter) are the last to enter the room, Potter pausing to send a glare Severus' way. Much to Severus' disappointment, only Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini had done Slytherin proud and progressed to NEWTS level in Potions. That meant that this week the class had only one Slytherin student, as Lucius had asked, and been granted permission to, take Draco out of class for a week. Though the boy had seemed to be resisting his father's wish that he join the Death-Eaters, Severus doubts that the boy will hold through the week.

Severus damns Dumbledore, and does not bother to mind his temper as the class starts.

Even with the extra sleep Potions class does not go well.

But only for Harry.

As Snape sweeps in with his usual dramatically billowing robes, Harry remembers the last Order meeting, Voldemort's reaction to the news that Dumbledore was going to try to reenact the Tradition, and the order he gave to his Death-Eaters.

Suddenly, the Tradition doesn't seem quite so amusing, and Harry is mildly annoyed by that. Wasn't there anything in his life that Voldemort couldn't ruin for him? Before, the Tradition had seemed like an amusing play, something to laugh at without actually having to participate in; something that wouldn't greatly affect his life.

Harry supposes he should have known better. He is Harry-Fucking-Potter, after all. No brain-child of both Dumbledore and Voldemort ever left him unscathed.

Then Harry grins, imagining what Snape would say if he voiced what he was thinking.

It was funny, in an odd way, but lately, as long as Snape didn't insult his parents, Sirius, Lupin or the Weasleys, Harry actually found some of his comments amusing. He supposed seven years of the endless torture they called Potions Class could turn anyone round the bend.

In fact, hadn't Hermione said something the other day about how Snape and Harry would make a wonderful couple if they just admitted the fact that they were passionately attracted to one another? True, Hermione might have said it just to steer the topic away from Quidditch, or just to watch Ron's reaction (which didn't disappoint, leaving their surrounding area liberally sprayed with partly chewed potato.) But still, if Potions class could make even Hermione feel the need to ease the tension after a lesson, you knew something was seriously wrong with the teacher.

Harry amuses himself for a few minutes, imagining Aurors coming to Hogwarts to arrest Snape, for such crimes as " Addling Young Minds," "Causing Teenagers to go Bat-Shit Insane" and, best of all, "Being a Bat-Like Git with An Odd Black Clothing Fetish and an Odd, Rare Condition That Causes A Person To Get Off On Other People's Pain." Harry had just got to the particularly nice part of his day-dream where the Aurors took Snape from the school kicking and screaming (not that Harry thought Snape would be likely to do that, it was just an amusing idea) when a voice speaks, right over his shoulder.

"Since Mr. Potter clearly assumes that he is above the trivialities that affect the rest of us poor mortals—such as the order to clean up his work space—he shall be given a detention. Perhaps an evening spent cleaning dried Flobberworms off desks and cleaning cauldrons will teach him that just because he is the Boy Who Lived," Snape says the hated nickname in a tone of distinct sarcasm, "he may not expect special treatment from everyone. Class dismissed. Potter, I'll see you at 9:00 tonight. Attempt to be on time."

After seven years of detentions with Snape, Harry knew better than to expect Snape to have been lying about cleaning Flobberworms off desks. Sure enough, the man opens his classroom door, gestures at the cleaning supplies, says "You know what to do, " and proceeds to sit down at his desk and start marking essays.

If Harry had thought Snape's treatment of him in his first few years at Hogwarts had been bad, it was nothing to how Snape had acted since Harry's little trip through his memories. Harry had hoped that by now Snape's grudge would have abated slightly. That was not the case. If anything, Snape seemed angrier every time he saw Harry. Sometimes Harry was amazed by the man's seemingly limitless capacity to hate. The man could hold a grudge better than anyone Harry had ever met...except, maybe Voldemort.

Which was rather scary, really.

Harry thinks about this as he cleans the desks, and, as he moves on to cleaning the cauldrons, thinks about how still Snape is, and how much he, Harry, must have changed over the years to be thinking about Snape. Just Snape, not how mean he was, not wanting to yell at him. Just Snape.

How could Snape be so still? How could he just sit there marking papers without even pausing to stretch a cramping hand muscle, or look up at the clock? Harry, who was used to having a part of himself moving at all times when awake, found Snape's stillness unnatural, distracting.

And, Harry thinks, you know you're bored when thinking about Snape is interesting.

"Potter, unless you are finished—in which case you are more than welcome to leave—you should not have stopped your work." Snape hadn't even looked up from the essays.

"I...uh..." Harry flushes red. "I... wanted to—er—apologize about the—ummm—Pensieve incident." Snape had stopped marking and looked up. Harry looks at the ground, unable to meet the man's eyes. "It was—er—wrong of me to look in it. I apologise."

There, he had finally managed to say it. It had taken nearly two years and to be caught staring at Snape, to do it, but in the end he had. That was what counted, right?

Apparently not to Snape.

"You can not black-mail me with what you witnessed. Surely you do not believe you can?"

"What? Of course not! I'm not going to black-mail you! Even if I wanted to, why would I do so now after apologizing to you rather than two years ago?"

"It is not up to me to determine how your brain works, Potter. You are dismissed."

Harry leaves, but he looks back when he closes the door. Snape was no longer marking papers. He was staring blankly at the wall in front of him, and looked very tired, and somehow, more human than Harry had ever seen him

The next day was the Saturday of a Hogsmeade weekend. Harry walked down to the village with Ron and Hermione, all of them—even Hermione—glad for the break. In fact, she was in such a good mood that she followed Ron and Hermione to Zonko's Joke Shop without complaining. Her patience wavered however when Ron and Harry started dueling with fake wands.

"I'm going to get a drink!" she finally cried, exasperated.

Ron immediately starts after her, and Harry, who, much to his shame, hadn't managed to squash his feelings of being a third wheel, tells him he would meet them at the Three Broomsticks later.

It was probably not the smartest thing he could have done.

So, please review? They make my day. No, seriously. They do. Don't you want to make my day?