BitterSweet Chapter 21:

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling therefore do not own any of the characters etc. etc...

Severus Snape's POV:

It seemed like hours before I could use my lungs to talk again, my mind too mesmerized by Dumbledore's hopeless, almost afraid eyes to remember to talk.

"What is it?" I ask, my voice hoarse with stress. I slowly move my limbs and edge closer, forcing the blood to pump through my body. Dumbledore draws a heavy breath as I sit down in a chair opposite his desk.

"I am sorry that this isn't what I had called you here to talk about, but there is something you must know." He begins, staring at me solemnly.

"Your grandfather, Xavier, went to a Death Eater meeting as an investor, and was brutally murdered." He announces, staring at me intensely. To be honest, the loss of Xavier hasn't a big impact on me – in fact I'm barely moved. My only fear is for grandma.

"But, alas, that is not all." Dumbledore continues. I realize the worse is yet to come. "Now, please, not do anything rash." He warns. I grip the chair tightly, not even sure of what to expect. "Your grandmother, Henrietta Prince, is currently being held hostage by Voldemort in order to convince you to join his ranks."

A crawling grimace shows the extent of my stress, as my mind reels with what to do. Although, I do believe she would be able to defend herself efficiently, I still want to help. Probably seeing me relax slightly and become silent with thought, Dumbledore speaks again.

"What is it you are thinking?" He asks gently. I stare at him for a full minute, not sure whether I should trust anyone with my thoughts.

"I'm not sure what I can do to help – she is a very, very skilled witch, one who has taught me nearly all of my battle skills. I'll try to help as much as I can, but don't see where I can intervene." I reply, supposing he's trustworthy enough, considering he is the one who passed the news to me.

"Severus, I am afraid your grandmother isn't as strong as you are thinking." He carefully implies. My hands ball in response, the muscles in my face becoming tense as I scowl at the Headmaster. "I don't mean to insult your grandmother – indeed it is no insult, for I should know of her abilities as well as you – but you need to understand that she has just watched her husband die, and at the moment, all of her strength and will has died with him." He warns, carefully watching me.

I feel ill in my stomach, unable to fathom that I am the reason for all this. How can she give up already! The fight hasn't even begun, and yet she's ready to give in? My immediate reaction is to fix it; revise my previous errors and improve. I stand up quickly but a quite "sit" from Dumbledore alerts me that there is still more.

"Voldemort has a new campaign to recruit those he wants among his ranks. If they resist, he will bribe and black-mail until they submit. He has been taking family members of the wanted recruits, and a few have already been executed, only encouraging other possible recruits to join up before the tragedy falls upon their own families. The good news is, as your grandmother is now the head of Prince money accounts, Voldemort cannot afford to lose her as she is a major investor, and so, I don't believe he will kill her." He says, not needing to state the obvious: that as his captive, she will undoubtedly be tortured. I sit back in the chair and allow it to fully support the weight of my body, with the weight of my brain being heavy enough for me already. My head is brimming with questions.

"How can he assume that if I joined, I wouldn't betray him?" I question. Dumbledore shifts in his seat and leans a little closer.

"I believe that he believes that the glory, wealth and status of being a Death Eater will keep you in line or that the threat of your own death will."
"Does he truly believe that death is the worst thing possible?" I ask, dumbfounded as to the naivety of the Dark Lord.

"As his group and campaign are in the early years, he hasn't seen anything to prove otherwise. His ignorance in matters of love means that he isn't able to comprehend that the death of oneself isn't the worse punishment. I know that death is his greatest fear, further supporting my theory. Nonetheless, he is a quick learner, and he will abuse you and all those around you till you surrender." He answers in a serious tone. I roll my eyes.

"Well that leaves many options!" I nearly shout, anger rolling off me in waves. I feel the urge to hit something, the anger swelling in me only adding to the tension in my head.

"Severus, I know that this is hard, but there are ways to defeat him. I am currently in the middle of a few projects to single out Voldemort's strengths and weaknesses. I would not have told you all that I have today, if I did not believe in your ability to cope. Just know that you are not alone, but that this will be a long, hard fight, no matter which side you join." He says, adding the last sentence, to my surprise. I thought that my chosen side was unquestionable, but as I look into his eyes, I see the doubt. After a short silence, I talk again.

"How can I protect Lily?" I ask, reminding him why I'm on his side.

"You can't." He says simply, confirming my worst nightmare. "She, regardless of you, would always have chosen to fight to defeat Voldemort and so her safety will never be guaranteed, although you are both safest within Hogwarts' grounds."

I bring my hand to cover my face, not from sadness but from exhaustion – my body feels as though it had been kissed by a Dementor, no life or pulse left to move.

"Severus, I would not have told you this information if I believed you couldn't handle it." Dumbledore repeats. "You have a strong character and I am afraid that is about to be tested by the strongest of forces. The bond you share with Lily is magical in many ways, and you need to use it to your full potential. While love can be disadvantageous, as I am sure you're thinking, do not forget that it can also provide many advantages, advantages of which Voldemort is oblivious. You cannot do this on your own, Severus. You must not give into Voldemort, not matter what." He concludes, his tone changing subtly, making me suspicious, the question which I had been turning about in my head now not seeming so stupid.

"Professor Dumbledore, what would it matter if I joined him?" I question, my eyes carefully scrutinizing his suddenly weary face. His cheeks puff up with air before deflating, his breath lightly hitting my face with a distinct odor of lemon drops.

"Severus, there are many things that you are yet to become aware of, some of which I cannot yet reveal to you, but know that I have seen your past and glimpsed the future of your alternate life – you are a powerful wizard, and under Voldemort, almost unstoppable." He answers.

"Almost?" I ask. It frustrates me that no matter what I am doomed and damned, never to the best in this world or the next. Dumbledore, oblivious to my thoughts, chuckles as a smile creeps onto his face.

"Some bonds will always remain." He replies, his eyes twinkling madly, a harsh comparison to their previous expression (or lack of) mere seconds ago. "You may have been powerful, but you were never happy, and I am sure that thanks to your skill as a Legilimens, you are aware of the cause of your self-hate and unhappy life."

I sigh, rushing my hand through my matted hair.

"And what am I to do now?"

"You wait, Severus. Bide your time. Train and keep a watchful eye and please don't do anything rash – oxygen doesn't only extinguish but enflame the fire." He warns. I snort at the poor metaphor as I get up from the chair, my arms shaking slightly due to the depth of the discussion, my step unsure, my feet doubting the stability of the floor. Dumbledore, with the wave of a wand, returns the spilled ink into the ink-bottle and levitates my heavily stained parchment sheet, ink bottle and quill.

"For somebody who is supposedly powerful, why do I feel so powerless?" I mutter as I open the door.

"Indeed, why do we all?" I hear Dumbledore reply silently before the door clicks shut.

I begin walking in the direction of the library, but with an empty ink pot and soaked parchment, I decide to head for my room. There is something about Dumbledore, the shiftiness of his eyes, his shaky draws of breath, his mannerisms, which makes me cautious about him. I feel as though I shouldn't trust him, although I know I should. It is obvious he was keeping something from me still. I hate that, in some cases, he knows more about me then I do. And he talks to me in an almost patronizing way, as though I am only a pawn, his fear of my joining Voldemort only because it puts him at a disadvantage – such are the thoughts that replay in my mind as I place down my armful of useless items on my bed, and begin to walk impulsively straight to the fields.

I have never had a strong desire to fly, but all I want is to feel the wind in my clumped hair, the cold air biting and nibbling at my face and the freezing numbness of my hands as I desperately clutch the broom, even if all I achieve is a distraction in my mind. I borrow a broomstick from the new Flying Instructor, Madam Hooch, who looks at me skeptically. I never turned up to her compulsory flying lessons, something which I subtly regret as I watch the broom hover, the only step I can remember. Tired of asking for help, of knowing, of hesitating, I get onto the broom without another thought and once I gain balance, I lean forward, accelerating the broomstick into the atmosphere. The previous grass-and-mud smell is replaced by the fresh air, and as I whirl and circle around, I stare in amazement at Hogwarts. Hogwarts has always been a big part of my life, yet up here, amongst the clouds, beautiful though it is, it looks small and almost insignificant.

The picture perfect view soon becomes a blur as the broom, without any indication from me, goes faster and faster. Only knowing one direction (or perhaps realistically, knowing nothing), I begin to form a vortex, the intensity of the pressure almost numbing my body until I manage to gather enough strength to place the pressure correctly on the broomstick, forcing it to shoot up through the clouds. Applying my newly founded two movements, I fly horizontally through the clouds, unaware of my orientation and not caring. I purposefully lean forward this time, forcing the broom faster.

Eventually, I slow down and make my descent to earth, realizing nonchalantly that a substantial more amount of time had passed than I planned, the sun slowly setting. But as I set foot on the ground and wobble around for a few minutes as I return the broom I know it is worth it as I instantly recognize all of the tension in my body has disappeared, leaving my body light and numb.

I walk towards the castle, passing the Great Lake and our beech tree, into the courtyards and on into my quarters. I feel content and don't really want to eat, cautious of upsetting my serene state – I cannot remember a time when my body has physically felt so relieved, no weight on my shoulders dragging me down. Happily, I descend the stairs, the cold atmosphere comforting, but as I turn the corner to enter my quarters, I see Lily standing at the door, wand in hand and her face glowing red, her uniform disheveled.

"If you so much as think of touching me again, I will blast you into Azkaban!" Lily exclaims, her messy hair giving her a frightening look. Crabbe and Goyle (A/N Parent to the Crabbe and Goyle of Harry's time) just grin and raise their wands as I appear with my wand poised. Goyle attempts to stupefy me, but the hex is easily defended.

"I wonder what Voldemort sees in you Goyle, because it certainly isn't your ability to duel, nor your good looks." I sneer, my voice dripping with disgust. Goyle looks uncertainly over at Crabbe who rolls his eyes.

"I wonder what the Dark Lord sees in your little mudblood friend, what for her high price and all." He sniggers before running into the Slytherin common room, unable to see the raw emotion cross my face.

"I should have just transfigured them into rats, at least they would be returned to their original form." I mutter as I open the door, motioning for Lily to enter. She walks into the middle of the lounge room and stands still, her arms folded. I stay by the door, unsure of what to do next, what's expected. We've barely spoken all day. After a short silence, I ask if everything is ok, still standing idly by the door.

"Damn it Sev, I don't need you fighting my battles for me!" She yells, her anger flaring.

"What did you expect me to do – watch them attack you?" I query, astonished at her anger.

"They weren't attacking, just harassing, not much worse then Potter does." She says. "Besides, if you had told me where you've been or even talked to me today, I wouldn't be in this mess!"

"Lily, what does that matter– you are safe now."

"Because Severus saved Lily – well I can fight back myself thank you!"

"They could hurt you!"

"And they can't hurt you, oh invincible one? They are blasted novices when it comes to dueling, you even said so, and you're just insulting me by thinking they'll hurt me!" Lily responds. Her words ring true.

"So you were about to attack Slytherins for the same crimes as the Marauders, yet you don't hex your Gryffindor mob!" I accuse.

"What about the time when we were embracing and I hexed James?"

"I helped!"

"Probably because you thought I was incapable!" I walk over and slump into a chair, my arm aching due to the unexpected intensity of my recent exercise.

"Lily, you know it's not like that." I sigh, weary. All I wanted was a little peace today – was it so hard to ask? She picks up an empty cauldron, peers inside then places it back down before she walks over to me.

"So, what was it that they've been doing to you? What mess were you in when I arrived?"

"Don't patronize me!" She threatens, standing up again.

"Lily, stop overreacting!" My words make her eyes shrink in anger.

"Goodnight Snape." She says, walking out of the room. I groan. What on earth is wrong with her? I am trying to protect her and she gets angry with me! I pace about the room, but stop abruptly as Slughorn unexpectedly enters, clearly surprised at my being here.

"Ah, Severus m'boy, nearly forgot you were here!" He says, looking at me pleasantly. "Actually, now that I've got you, I hope you wouldn't mind doing me a favour." He states, looking for encouragement in my blank expression. "You see, I have to brew some Potions for Madam Pomfrey, but am afraid I've got quite a lot to do…"

"I can help if you need." His face lights up. Potion brewing might give me the distraction needed once again, now that flying is unrealistic for a novice like me as it is pitch black outside.

"Brilliant! Now, where did I put the list…ah here it is!" He says, finding the piece of parchment after patting himself down. He places it on the table and looks about. "Oh, the time! Sorry I can't help you Severus m'boy, but I must run. Ingredients are in the next room!" He says as he retreats quickly through the door. Typical Slytherin.

I pick up the crumpled piece of parchment and look at the list in annoyance. The potions are too simple.

I gather the ingredients in a state of frustration, a scowl setting permantly on my face as I damn everything, the potion-making not distracting or dangerous enough to at least push my emotions to the back of my mind as I had hoped. As I pour the unicorn hooves' dust into the steaming cauldron, my thoughts are ever-gloomy. A sense of overwhelming despair washes over me as I watch the ingredients disintegrate in the cauldron. Voldemort is so powerful; I begin to wonder if he'll ever be defeated. I will live a life fighting, the life of Lily in constant danger, my grandmother…Hogwarts will fall, the Headmaster only another body to be strewn across the Quidditch Pitch – and all for what? What is the point in this earth if I'm cursed for protecting it? If such pain continues to exist? So much can go wrong so quick, I can't help but wonder whether death now is wiser – that way I don't have to face all this hurt and despair that is inevitably going to unfold in my life, as it was apparently destined to.

But suicide is for cowards, something I shall never be. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to the few left here that care – predominantly Lily. I still wouldn't be shocked if Lily left me, I can hardly believe she can manage to tell me she likes me – and she kisses me! Such goodness cannot be true. I almost don't want it to be true. It's a weakness, and it's already showing. I hate that I can't join the other Slytherins, am restricted from such glory and power, the chance to become on of the most powerful wizards ever known…such a calling is almost irresistible, knowing that once out of school, the next time Potter reveals his appalling self, I could hex him and torture him until he submits to me as a superior, before finally ending his life with no reproach.

And yet, as such fantasies take hold of my imagination, I add too much hippogriff hair, causing the cauldron to smoke endless plumes. Through the thick of the smoke I ask the one question which seems to dictate my harsh existence – for what? With the smoke absorbing into my hair, I wonder what the point of killing Potter would be – it'd be, mainly, over Lily.

And if all of my blessed glory is to be defined by my taking his disgraceful life, isn't my joining the League of Voldemort a moot point? If Lily is currently my girlfriend? Wouldn't I lose everything through joining for an inexistent cause? Of course, if Lily happened to be taken by James in the future, I'd have no hesitation, Death Eater or not, to hex him into the depths of eternity.

Hello everyone :)

Well, there's another chapter - I hope you all enjoyed it! I wanted to show the disorientation in Severus' mind, the absolute vortex of so many thoughts to further understand his mannerisms and actions.

At the moment, I am taking time to re-edit the chapters of BitterSweet and am in absolute horror at my many mistakes, which only makes me more grateful for the kindess of my readers and reviewers - thank you :)

Please review and voice your ideas on the story and where you think it should go - it is so refreshing to see people respond to your work, and I'd love to hear the ideas you have as to the direction of the story and what you'd like to see.

It's quite funny to see how theraputic writing has become, and as a result I am barely able to stop reading/writing, therefore I'd like to think either chapters will be able to be updated more often, or at least lengthened!
Hope you all have a wonderful weekend,

Angela
(Missteque).