Chapter 1: The Calming Of The Storm
{A/N: Welcome to another depraved tale from my morbid mind and waking nightmares...I do mean nightmares considering how much this story bugged me...I know I have quite a few unfinished works but never fear, they will be completed in due time...unlike most I take a few brakes to recharge my muse here and there...it keeps away the writers block...-S.S.}
{Late Post}
My Thanks To All My Readers and Reviewers...Enjoy S.S.
Two Years Earlier...
The Grounds, Hogwarts Castle, Wizarding World...
Rain had been the first thing to come to mind with the inevitable swelling of vast black clouds that darkened the sky, blacking out the stars and moon from the students view below Hogwarts Castle. High winds brought with it rapid swirling of the sea on the far side of the castle, the air tasted bitterly of salt and sickness. On the grounds, Minerva McGonagall went about rounding up wayward students and instructing them to their respective houses. Her notorious black hat swirled in the fury of the wind. Her trademark green robes also swayed with her aged bones as she moved about between pillars and columns. The first drops had come down seeping into the protruding soil the winds had managed to shake up. Slowly they fell here and there causing uncomfortable realization to those unlucky enough to be caught in the storm. As the Transfigurations Professor moved below, she had little to no view of the looming figure wrapped in ebony standing atop the battlements with his obsidian gaze like that of a sorrowful king being told his kingdom's time was at an end, despite the merriment of his people.
The cool numerous drops seeped into the ebony clad figure's attire quickly soaking it as effectively as the lank raven locks upon his head. Beads of rain droplets dripped from his abnormally large nose and sallow pale cheeks like freshly shed tears. The rain soaked him indefinitely as he stood not moving a muscle taking in the sight of the empty courtyard below.
Soon, blood would be shed upon this peaceful grounds as it had so many centuries before.
Soon, the quiet little haven he called home since he had been eleven years of age would be overrun with the very darkness that plagued his immortal soul.
Soon, the life of the wizarding world's most prominent citizens would come to a tragic end, and those that held him in such high regard didn't even known it.
Severus Snape took a breath he had not realized he had been holding feeling the burning sensation of his lungs given how long he stood there. His mind had been in tatters to the likes of which Occlumency held no peace. His fingers dripped with the ever traveling rain water like blood in the wake of an open wound.
He was to be hunted once more.
The complacency of Dumbledore's rule had given him some uneasy comfort, in the years since his release from Azkaban, the raven haired Slytherin Professor had thought back to that time as his stomach further twisted in knots. He had gotten use to the home-like comforts of this place, the easy friendships in the wake of the first war's end.
Despite all he had said and done, he had grown fond of his days being filled with fresh minds and bright faces to mold into future citizens. He had gotten use to being needed and in return treated as a member of some kind of family, flaws not withstanding.
His fractured mind traveled to the students.
While Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were considered inferior, they were lead by Professors Flitwick and Sprout respectively. He had come to admire Professor Flitwick, more so than he had as a student attending the half-goblin's classes. He believed both Professors' students were far too sensitive to stand against the coming tide of darkness.
Then there was Gryffindor, The rival house of his own and championed by all things Potter.
He wondered if Minerva McGonagall had enough gruff in her to sustain yet another war. The incident with Umbridge proved that the old battle ax had been human after all, a sight Snape had only imagined in his night terrors. How could she of all people go through another war? There was no doubt that she would give her life for any student being Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, but there was also the aspect of what weighed so heavily upon his shoulders. How could he dare look her in the eye?
Minerva McGonagall had been a constant presence in his life from the day she placed that sorting hat atop his head at the age of eleven. His first real look at what a formidable woman could be and had been capable of. Her sharp tongue and unmatched wit had driven him to emulating her on occasion. How would she feel about what he must do? The question burned itself into his mind.
Slytherin House was another matter.
He had fought for years to ensure equality among the houses, despite Dumbledore being so obviously "Pro-Gryffindor". None the less, listening to his students and taking the time to be their mentor and guide had given him purpose, and now all of the years he had spent gaining their trust as well as admiration was to be tossed aside in favor of a mad man's bidding to bolster his own ego.
Snape balled his collective fists so tightly they turned red.
How could he have failed them? Such bright and unhindered young minds, all shaped by years of hard work and careful planning, all to be destroyed by a monster's twisted dream.
No.
He couldn't allow that to happen.
He would not allow it to happen.
Powerful the dark lord may be, he was still a selfish flesh sack when it came down to it. A spineless coward fearful of death and the like so he hides behind a false sense of grandeur and pretends to laugh into the very face of that in which he evades. Severus was no such coward. He would gladly go to his death knowing that he had done at least one thing to better the lives of those students whom had been under his protection for these many years, even if those students had been the sickening Gryffindor Golden Trio.
Snape for all his very many faults was fighting for something much more than old world prejudices and past mistakes...he was fighting for the future of his students and any other children whom did not deserve to have their lives ripped apart by selfish monsters. He had seen enough of that in his life time to not ever have wished it even upon his worst enemy.
The Potions Master sighed as his mind traveled back to the last meeting with the Headmaster.
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{ Albus Dumbledore, once formidable wizard in the entire wizarding world sat slumped over his very elegantly carved oak wood desk amid pointless papers and mediocre assignments. His candy dish half empty and various piles of books depicting dark magics unheard of since the days of the ancients askew amid the papers one such book pertaining curses and the like sitting with it's spine up, the heavy pages sagging on either side half way marked the point of interest.
The binding had been old leather and brown in color although it had been faded.
"You wanted to see me Headmaster?" he asked dutifully as he could manage despite the rampant questions in his mind.
"Ah...yes...Severus." said The Headmaster, looking up from where his eyes had been on his lap below the end of his desk where his chest rose and fell as if breathing had been difficult.
Snape met his eyes, his unnerving blue eyes, they had the decency to hold that familiar sickening twinkle despite his apparently duplicitous nature. The younger wizard also noted the ruffle of Dumbledore's lengthy white beard and un-brushed equally white hair. He had not wore his hat today, a strange occurrence given his choice of style and flash persona.
The dour wizard scarcely recalled a moment he had seen him without it.
"Come have a seat." said Dumbledore motioning for him to take the empty chair at the end of his desk.
Snape arched an eyebrow wondering why the demented old nutter had not tried to shove a piece of muggle candy down his throat, as per usual when he was summoned to this tornado-struck eyesore of an office.
Fawkes sqwaked from his perch. A revolting sight if ever there was one with his blotch flamed skin melting and turning into ash before their very eyes.
Against his better judgement, Snape took a seat.
"You called me for a reason or is this another one of your bogus teas?" asked the embittered Potions Professor.
"Severus, I believe we have much to discuss and so short a time to do it in." replied Dumbledore seeming at last to get to the point. "Seeing as I am often terrible with words especially concerning your ever limited patience, I feel it is best to show you."
In one motion The Headmaster placed a blackened hand atop the desk amid the mess he made of it. The Potions Master's obsidian eyes widened, if the old bastard was attempting to shock him, he had made his point thoroughly.
"What did you do?" asked Snape narrowing his eyes at the older wizard.
"A very foolish thing, I'm afraid." replied Dumbledore as if were some minor infraction.
He pulled a gold ring very carefully from it's hiding place in the center of a white cloth. Almost immediately Snape coiled in dread.
"What have you done?" he asked in disbelief.
"I didn't believe the tales of how irresistible it had been...so I figured I'd try my luck." he said trying to make light of the situation.
Snape refrained from letting out the long list of insults his mind had come up with on a dime and taken to examining his hand. He performed a diagnostic spell as well as a well placed holding charm, it did little to ease the pain but it kept the curse from progressing as rapidly as it had been before.
"How long?" asked Dumbledore in a serious tone.
"It is hard to determine...perhaps if you had shared this information with me sooner, I could have found a cure." said Snape annoyed at the old man's folly. "Maybe a year."
A shot of pain ripped through the Headmaster.
Snape let go of his hand.
"You need a Potion, perhaps I have something stronger in my private collection...it should take the edge off." he said swiftly getting up from the seat and moving toward the door in one fluent motion. Only to find himself frozen by the old man's words.
"Don't ignore me Severus." said Dumbledore not wishing to hold off on what he had to say any longer. "We both know Lord Voldemort has ordered the Malfoy boy to murder me..."
Snape closed his eyes knowing all too well where the older wizard had been going with this. Why he had arranged this meeting, why he had revealed his hand, now as opposed to when something could have been done about it.
"And when the time comes..." continued Dumbledore, his blue eyes seeming to bore a hole in Snape's very tightly wound armor around his guarded heart. "You must be the one to kill me, Severus."}
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The Potions Master's blood ran cold in his very veins as he stood allowing the rain to continue to beat against him. He knew not what he was asking of him in that moment. In that short span of a conversation, he had gone from being a spy in the camp of the Order of Phoenix, feared and respected, relatively unliked but admired from afar to the very thing that plagued his nights deep in the dungeons when all seemed well for many others at Hogwarts.
He had left that life behind.
He had changed...not for himself but for her.
For her son and all those other students that he had been both protector and mentor to.
Now, the one person whom had given him this second chance was effectively slapping him back down into the muck.
Perhaps the cold hard truth should have been realized earlier. There was no true way for a man such as him to gain redemption...after all a leopard never changed it's spots, and no matter how many times a serpent shed it's skin it was still a serpent.
He was a death eater.
He was born a death eater, given the constant allure of darkness drew him in at a very young age.
He would die a death eater, hated and scorned by all for the twisted act he was about to commit.
For the greater good.
What good could possibly come from being hunted and hated once more?