The Upper Hand

Peace is what they tell me.

Love-am I unholy?

Lies are what they tell me.

Despise you that control me.

The peace is dead in my soul.

I have blamed the reason for

My intentions poor.

Yes I´m the one who

The only one who

Would carry on this far.

Torn, I´m filthy.

Born in my own misery.

Stole all that you gave me.

Control-you claim you save me.

The peace is dead in my soul.

I have blamed the reason for

My intentions poor.

Yes I´m the one who

The only one who

Dawn´s cool light filled his chambers when Severus woke up the next morning.  His head throbbed with half-formed memories of the night before.  As if it had been a dream.  Upon reflection, Severus wasn´t so sure it wasn´t simply a dream.  The days and nights he had spent at the Malfoy Manor seemed to run together in an uneventful and redundant rhythm.  Part of him remembered Deucalion taking him down into the dungeons after dinner; part of him remembered going back to bed, just like he had every night before.  It felt like he had a sock in his brain, barricading the way to a clear reminiscence.  

He filtered through his memories.  Vague, disconnected sounds and scenes flashed unsteadily through Severus´s mind, along with clear, general feelings:  dark, rancid, confused...but then even these thoughts seemed to contradict each other...proud, fulfilled, infatuated.  What was going on?  Then came a distinct impression:  responsible.  Quite a neutral word in any context, but then why did it bring with it a heavy, twisting sensation in his stomach?  Pain, pain, pain... 

He shook his head.  "Forget it," he muttered as he dragged himself out of bed.  "Dream."

As he took a step toward the chest of drawers containing his belongings, his shins hit something large, heavy, and solid.  He stumbled over it, just managing to catch his balance as he cursed.  He blinked and looked down to find his bags already packed, his Hogwarts robes lying neatly out beside them.

Just as he finished fastening his robes, he heard a knock on his door.  He turned and stumbled over his bags again, repeated his curse, and walked to the door.  A tiny hint of apprehension sparked in his gut as he pulled it open.  It was quickly stifled and replaced by irritation as he stared out into the apparently empty corridor.  Then a high-pitched throat was cleared somewhere around his knees, and Severus jumped.

"What?" he snarled down to the house elf.

"I has come to collect your bags, sir," said the house elf, looking a tad huffy.  "Masters Malfoy are waiting for you in the dining hall."  And he pushed past Severus´s knees and into the room.

Severus walked stiffly through the brightly lit corridors, squinting as the light seared past his eyes into a dull pocket of pain just behind them. 

When he reached the dining hall, Lucius greeted him eagerly and clapped him on the back rather hard.  Severus felt a stab of pain rip through his head as he lurched forward with the impact.

"Urgh," he said.

"Good morning, Severus," said Deucalion, standing to greet Severus in a formal manner.  His robes were a deep blue today, trimmed with silver.  "I trust you slept well?"

"Urgh," said Severus again, in the politest tone he could muster.

"Ah, not feeling well?" smiled Deucalion, "Perhaps the trip back to school will rejuvenate you."

"Yes, perhaps," replied Severus dully.

They ate a large breakfast.  Or at least, those of Malfoy heritage ate a large breakfast.  Severus found that the mere sight of food made him slightly nauseated, but he downed a couple of pieces of toast anyway.

When breakfast was over, Deucalion sent them on their way.  Their bags were, of course, mysteriously stowed away with the house elves who would accompany them on their trip.

The lake glittered darkly as they crunched through the snow to the carriage.  As Severus followed Lucius into the carriage, Deucalion laid a hand on his shoulder. "Have a good year, Severus, and keep your objectives in context to the world around you."

Which left Severus feeling extremely confused.

The trip back to school was long, silent, and uneventful.  Severus busied himself staring out the window, trying to ignore the way Lucius kept glancing sideways at him in a disturbingly ponderous fashion.  It really was hard work, trying to ignore so many things at once; Lucius´s stare, the blinding glint off of the snow, and the accelerating stiffness in his neck all vied for his attention.  He let himself sink into a stupor for most of the trip.  He fell asleep a couple of times, but each doze was very short-lived and punctuated by sinister dreams that Severus couldn´t remember when he woke with a start.

They reached Hogwarts about the same time the train did, joining the throng of people who had returned from their holidays, milling their way into the Great Hall just in time for dinner.

***

The year passed by quickly. 

Severus was never quite the same after leaving the Malfoy Manor.  The feeling of unease, of uncertainty, never left his side.  It grew and cultured into what could almost be considered paranoia.  It was hard to comprehend, this feeling.  He was afraid of himself; he felt as though something dark and incomprehensible lurked inside of him, waiting for the moment when Severus would betray himself, lose control, and let the beast out to greet the world.  Something had unsettled him that night; a seed had been planted in him, and it grew with an uncontrollable vengeance.

He kept busy.  He made potions for Malfoy; he studied for his N.E.W.T.s.  He ignored Potter and Black as best he could, finding that even his most cutting remarks couldn´t quell the anger that seethed inside of him.  The black beast in his gut seemed to be devouring all the satisfaction he could make for himself, so that nothing was enough.  He wanted more.  He wanted the ultimate upper hand over them, to catch them unawares and armed with...something...so that he could pounce. 

But he watched them.  And he waited.  He waited for that something that he hungered voraciously for.  He didn´t know what it was, but at night he slipped into unnerving dreams filled with a whispering voice that told him all he needed to know.  Or rather, it seemed to converse only with the beast inside, telling it secrets that the outer Severus desperately craved to know.  He was terrified and enthralled at what those secrets might be.  The only hint he had was the words he woke up whispering to himself often in the dead of the night.

"It´s who you are."

***

It was the last day before graduation.  The seventh years were raucous, refusing to go to class even though it was still Friday.  At the beginning of the day, the staff had tried to keep control of them, taking away points right and left, but eventually they just gave up. 

As a Slytherin prefect, Severus was supposed to be trying to keep his classmates orderly, but instead he found himself at the Hog´s Head with Lucius, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Nott, Rookwood, and many other Slytherins who hung about with "Lucius´s boys."  Quite a few of them were drunk.  Lucius, for one, was quite a nice person to be around when he was intoxicated, as he seemed to have an endless pocketbook and was buying everyone drinks like mad.

As Severus gulped down the last of his fifth or fifteenth butterbeers (he wasn´t entirely sure which it was), Lucius swayed to his feet.  As Rosmerta walked by, he waved his arms about like a great chimpanzee, slurring, "Rooosie!  Over here, Severus needs another drink, I think.  Over here.  See?"  He pointed to Severus´s empty bottle, as though perhaps Rosmerta couldn´t understand him.  Which, owing to the amount of liquor he had in his system, hardly anyone could.

"Are you sure you boys haven´t had enough to drink?" said Rosmerta tetchily, raising her eyebrows.  For some reason, the lot of them found this very funny, and there was a great shout of laughter from the table.  Rosmerta winced at the loudness of it, plunking down a tray of butterbeers in resignation and clicking away as quickly as she could.

As Severus opened his sixth or sixteenth bottle, the pub´s door opened, and in walked Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew.  A hot spark erupted in Severus´s veins, ignited by the alcohol that flowed freely through them.  He shouted across the pub full of students, "Well, look, if it isn´t the faggoty four!  Take a break from your evening romp for a little pick-me-up, Potter?"

Potter´s face turned an appropriate shade of red as the table around Severus erupted with laughter.  Severus saw Pettigrew cower behind Black as Lupin muttered something indistinct to Potter.  Potter shook his head at Lupin, pushing him away.

"James!" He heard Lupin´s voice rise warningly as Potter approached their table, Black pinging after him as though they were connected by a rubber band.  This thought gave Severus a vivid mental image that amused him greatly, and he laughed as they stopped in front of him.

"What," Severus slurred, rolling his eyes at them. "Don´t worry, I won´t tell Evans about your smutty gay love affair, if that´s what you´re on about."  He took another swig.  "Besides, I´m sure she´d think it was charming.  Give you something in common, Potter.  You know, then both of you would have slept with the entirety of Gryffind-"

Severus´s butterbeer went flying from his hand as Potter punched him, sending him stumbling back onto the table.  In his clumsiness, many drinks went shattering on the floor.  Severus pulled himself back up, shaking with fury, and lunged at Potter with all his might.

There was much drunken hooting and shouting as Severus and Potter hurled themselves as each other repeatedly.  A large crowd collected around them, blocking Rosmerta, who was shouting over the heads of the seventh years at them to stop.  They ignored her, throwing punch after punch.  Severus managed to break Potter´s nose, though he cut his knuckles as Potter´s specs shattered around his fist.  In rebuttal, Potter socked Severus three times in violent succession in the gut.

As they fought, a rescue effort seemed to have been organized by Black and Lupin.  Quite suddenly, in the midst of giving Potter a well-deserved knee in the groin, Severus felt someone grab him from behind.  Lupin´s arms caught him in the chest, pulling him back from Potter, who seemed to be getting the same sort of treatment from Black.

Severus swung a fist at Lupin, but was so unbalanced and disoriented that he missed by at least a foot.  The effort made him fall, however, and that alone was enough to pry himself from Lupin´s grasp.

"STOP IT!" Rosmerta shrieked, still working her way through the crowd of excited seventh years.

As Lupin lost his balance and fell backward into the table of Slytherins, Severus pulled himself to his feet.  He felt as though he was floating above himself, watching as something angry unleashed itself from within him.  The sound of the pub seemed to mute itself in his ears.  He watched almost with disinterest as his own arm plunged into his robes, procuring a wand from their depths.  He felt a faint tinge of déjà vu as his arm then pointed the wand at Potter and Black, who were struggling against each other.  He felt a grim sense of satisfaction, along with a thrill of terror, as he watched his lips form the word:  "Crucio!"

The beast had taken control at last.  He couldn´t stop himself.  The curse shot over Black´s shoulder and hit Potter dead in the center of his chest.  He instantly fell to the floor, flailing, kicking, and screaming in a voice several octaves above his normal one.  The tiny bit of Sane Severus that was left was locked away in a corner of his head.  This little bit of conscience pleaded with him to stop, but the pleadings remained unheard, and whatever madness Severus had unleashed upon himself continued to control his body.

Pain, pain, pain.  It´s who you are...!

...Just prod the knot, ha, ha... And the very voice echoing with those words in his brain now echoed in the outside world, screaming, "STUPEFY!"

Black.

***

"Ennervate."

Severus felt himself being pulled back to consciousness, but he didn´t open his eyes.  Only bad things would happen if he opened his eyes, and he knew that.  He remembered quite clearly what he´d done in the Hog´s Head.  He knew what he was in for.  Also, his head was pounding, and he didn´t think opening his eyes would better the situation.

"Open your eyes, Mister Snape," said a voice sharply above him.  He kept his eyes closed, hoping the person would just go away.  Then he realized whom the voice belonged to. "Now!"

Severus groaned.  He forced his eyelids up.  His first impression was of a stunning wall of white, and he blinked painfully.  He was in the hospital wing.  Then a crooked nosed, white faced, bespectacled Albus Dumbledore materialized beside his bed, looking terrifyingly angry.

"Sit up," said Dumbledore harshly.  Severus groaned again, pushing himself up on his elbows.

As he struggled into a sitting position, Dumbledore continued.  "Do not expect me to have any sympathy whatsoever concerning your current state, Severus.  There are others in this wing who have suffered far, far worse pain than any hangover you could have so foolishly given yourself.  Whatever pain you think you feel now is well deserved and thrice over for what you have done today."

Ah, so it´s still today, thought Severus sullenly.  They haven´t even let me rest twelve hours, then.  He leaned back against the wall and looked around.  Through the window he could see that it was very dark out.  He continued staring out the window with a stony expression, waiting for Dumbledore to finish his tirade and get out.  Dumbledore remained silent, however, and when Severus finally chanced a glance at him he was stunned to find the old man sitting in the chair beside Severus´s bed with his head in his hands.  He was breathing heavily through his nose, and for a moment Severus thought he was crying.  But when he lifted his blue eyes to Severus´s black ones there was no trace of anything save cold anger.

Dumbledore opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head and shut it as if it were a hopeless effort.  Suddenly he stood up, pushing his chair back against the wall.  He paused for one agonizing moment, glaring at Severus, and then he pulled open the screens of the bed next to Severus´s.

With a jolt Severus realized that it was Potter lying in that bed, unconscious.  He was pale as death, his lips pursed and white.  A film of dried blood caked his upper lip from his broken nose.  His hands gripped the sides of his mattress.  Every few seconds his body would twitch, and he would emit a faint whimpering sound.  Severus quickly looked away.

"No, I want you to look at him, Severus," snapped Dumbledore´s voice.  "Look at him and understand the full debauchery you have committed!"

Severus pressed his lips together in an unintentional grimace, looking back at the bed.  How long had he held the Cruciatus curse on Potter?  It had only felt like half a second before Black stunned him.  Then another thought crossed his mind.  Where had he even learned to use the Cruciatus curse like that?  A familiar feeling of responsibility rested itself in his gut.  You did that, something inside his head told him.  You lived for that!

"I..." Severus muttered feebly.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "You.  What in God´s name possessed you to do such a..." he couldn´t find a word horrible enough to describe what Severus had done "...thing?!"

"I..." said Severus weakly again.  Dumbledore waited for him to continue.  "I...don´t know..."

"Well, neither do I," said Dumbledore.  "I can´t possibly tell you how disappointed in you I am, Severus."  It was amazing how he could make that simple word: "disappointed" hurt so much.

"I´m sorry," muttered Severus dully, although he was not entirely sure that statement was true.  After all, Potter had thrown the first punch, hadn´t he?  If he had just stayed away, none of it would have happened!

"As much as I would like to believe that, I´m afraid I know better," Dumbledore said softly, finally pulling the screens around Potter´s bed closed.  "You have changed, Mister Snape.

"I thought that you would be different.  You were different...up until this year.  Even then, I had hope for you.  But now..." He shook his head.  "I don´t know what to say.  I cannot force you to see right and wrong, Mister Snape.  That is something you must discover for yourself.  But I can tell you this:  nobody is responsible for your actions but yourself.  You cannot hide behind the excuse of friends or of family.  In the end, the consequences will rest solely on you, and no one else."

Severus tried to keep his face as neutral as he could, and not let his growing frustration burn in his cheeks.

"You will be sent home promptly this evening.  Your bags have already been packed and loaded onto the Hogwarts Express.  You will not take part in the graduation ceremony tomorrow."  He pulled a certificate out of his robes, bearing the Hogwarts emblem behind the name "Severus Snape" in gold script.  This he thrust at Severus, who grudgingly took it from him. "I have just sent an owl to your father, but I daresay you shall arrive before it.  I am showing you some mercy, though I don´t know why.  I could report you to the ministry for use of the Unforgivables...but I won´t." 

Severus felt panic rise within him.  Dumbledore didn´t know it, but sending that owl to Senan Snape was by far the worst punishment he could have given Severus.

"You will be at the train by midnight," said Dumbledore curtly, standing to leave.  He walked a few steps toward the door.  Then he hesitated, looking back at Severus with a hint of sadness in his eyes. 

"I had hoped you would be more like your mother," he said quietly. 

Severus felt a burst of hatred toward Dumbledore as he turned to go.  How dare he!  How dare he!

"My mother loved me!" he burst out before he could stop himself.  He was horrified to hear his voice quiver slightly.  Dumbledore slowly turned around to face him again.

"I do not doubt that," he said tonelessly.  "But would she still?"

And he left Severus alone with that painful thought...and with the accusatory whimpers that echoed faintly throughout the hospital wing from the bed beside him. 

***

Severus had a whole, empty train ride home to brood.  It was strange, being on the normally packed Hogwarts Express without another soul on board.  He could choose whatever compartment he wanted.  The train barreled along, making hollow, rickety noises as it went.  He stared out the window and into the night.

He wouldn´t be going through the graduation ceremony.  So what?  That was a privilege, really.  Since the only people who were allowed to attend the ceremony were seventh year students, it would be nothing but a contest of popularity.  Severus felt very glad indeed that he didn´t have to sit through it. 

Really, he hadn´t been punished at all.  He got to go home a day early on a blessedly empty train, miss the applause contest, and he was spared facing Potter again before he left.  Well...facing him when he was awake, anyway.  Facing him unconscious had been unpleasant enough to deal with...

What had possessed him to throw that curse at Potter?  Perhaps it had simply been the alcohol.  And yet, he shouldn´t have been able to wield it so expertly...especially because of the alcohol in his system.  Alcohol was supposed to dampen your power, or at least your control over it.  If he hadn´t been drunk, would he have done it?

He tried not to think about that.  It was a stupid thing to do, he admitted to himself.  There were other ways of getting revenge on Potter.  But none quite so satisfying...

The thought popped into his head from nowhere.  Revenge?  Revenge?  Severus´s conflicting emotions battled.  Yes, revenge.  For saving my life...no, for saving HIS reputation...but he did save my life...How was it that Severus could get into so much trouble for simply cursing Potter, and Potter and Black barely got into any trouble at all for nearly killing Severus?  Well, Black had been suspended for a couple of weeks...but Potter?  Nothing.  And he had surely been in on it.

So...how did hurling the Cruciatus curse at Potter compensate for Potter´s saving his life?  Severus strained to find the answer.  He caused me pain by saving my life, he reasoned with himself.  He made a fool of me.

And if he hadn´t done it?  A nasty, contradicting voice in his head asked him.  You would have been made a fool then, too.  Only a dead one instead of a living one.

"Shut up!" Severus snapped aloud to himself.  No point thinking about it.  There was nothing for it.  What was done was done, and nothing could change it.  School was over, and he would never have to see Potter again.  He would go back home, and...

And what?  He tried to think what he was going to do with his life, but for some reason he couldn´t think past the words that had initially formed to answer his question:  ...And get beaten to a bloody pulp by Daddy, he mocked himself.  Then:  Shit.  What am I going to do?

By the end of the train ride, Severus had decided never, ever to be introspective again.  In his case, the results only ended up being painful.

It was three in the morning when he arrived at Platform 9 ¾.  He retrieved his bags from the luggage car.  Then he stood with them at his feet, staring with a glazed expression at the train.  Should he even go home at all?  He had nowhere else to go.

He sighed in resignation, and Disapparated.

***

Severus wasn´t very practiced up in Apparation yet, and he arrived slightly off his mark.  He had meant to Apparate into his bedroom, but found himself in the foyer instead. 

"Damn," he said.  Then he magicked his bags into the air, and directed them in front of him as he made his way up to his chambers.  He was wary as he walked, hoping to God that his father was either asleep or not at home.  The Snape Manor was a very nerve-wracking place to be hiding from someone at night; especially with the indistinct shapes that were the gargoyles popping up unpredictably wherever he went.

When he reached his chamber door, he let his bags drop to the floor in the corridor.  He grabbed the doorknob and turned it without thinking...  He blinked, looking down at his hand.  Locked?  He twisted it again, slightly harder, in case the door was simply jammed.  No luck.

He pulled out his wand, wondering vaguely why his door would be locked, when Severus was the only one who was ever even in this part of the Manor anyway.  "Aloham-"

He stopped as he heard a noise from inside his room.  It was faint, but even faint noises traveled easily through the Snape Manor.  He tried to figure out what the noise was.  It had sounded almost like someone gasping...

He shook his head.  He was being paranoid.  It was the effect this place had on him.

But then he heard another noise, and this time he was sure it was real.  It was a masculine voice, a muffled mutter that was barely distinguishable.  Severus´s eyes widened as he made out what it said...

"Avada Kedavra," it whispered.

"Alohamora!" Severus spat to the doorknob in a panic, and burst into his room.

And he saw her again, for that second and final time in his life.

Dead.

He stumbled into his room right as those brown eyes lost their sight, and they locked on his in the fragment of an instant before they were shuttered from the world forever.  He heard the last of her breath escape her, exhaled like a soft sigh of relief.  She was lying twisted on the floor, her dark eyes still gazing up at him emptily.  Her long hair tangled around her face.  Her eyebrows were knitted, her lips just barely open in a look of startled realization.  Her left hand was limply on her chest.  Her right arm lay away from her body on the floor.

His mind took a vivid photograph of that.

He stared at her in shock.  No, it couldn´t be.  How could it be Charity?  Why would it be Charity?  It wasn´t Charity.  It couldn´t be Charity!

He fell silently to his knees beside her body, forgetting to breath.  He gazed at her face.  It was Charity.  Oh, God, it was definitely Charity.  He reached out and brushed a stray hair from her cheek.

"Why?" he whispered.

"Because it was the only way," growled a voice behind him.  Severus felt an iron fist clench his chest.  He stood slowly and turned to face the speaker.

"You did this," Severus breathed in a low, gravely voice.

"Good analysis," responded Senan Snape sharply, taking a step toward his son.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You did this!"

"I heard you the first time," snapped Severus´s father.  "And I believe I asked you a question."

Severus didn´t even hear him.  His ears were ringing.

"Why did you do this???"

"Answer my question first, boy," snarled Senan.  "You weren´t supposed to come home from school until tomorrow!"

"YOU KILLED HER!"

"Goddamn you, you imbecilic boy!" Senan shouted, his arm swinging forward to strike Severus hard on the jaw.  "Show me the proper respect!  I have asked you a question!"

Severus swayed backward, feeling as though his jaw had shattered.  His right foot hit Charity´s outstretched arm, and he tripped sideways onto the floor.  His father advanced upon him, kicking her body aside as if she were a rag doll.  Severus felt a rage like he had never felt in his entire life sear up through his veins.  He snarled, kicking his right foot out as hard as he could.  It caught his father in the stomach, and the man stumbled to his knees over Severus, doubled over. 

"Fighting back?" Senan wheezed with laughter.  "You´ve never fought back before...you were always too weak-"

"AURGH!"  Severus lunged forward, hitting his father upside his skull so hard that his fist ached.  Senan fell forward onto Severus, who threw him off and onto the floor beside him.

"Why? Why? Why?" Severus screamed, beating every part of his father that he could reach.  He felt like a little child again.  He just kept repeating it.  Why?

Why had Senan beaten them?  Why had he killed Severus´s mother?  Why had he hated Severus?  Why couldn´t he be a normal father?  Why had he killed Charity?  Why did he have to destroy everything good in Severus´s life?

"Why?" Severus sobbed a final time, sitting back and putting his head in his hands.  He felt his sticky fingers smear against his face and into his hair, and he looked at them.  They were covered in blood.  They were running with blood.  It slid in lazy tendrils toward his elbows; it dripped from his hair.

He jumped up, looking down at his father´s mutilated face.  It was a horrible sight.  Blood pooled darkly around Senan.  Severus was literally sitting in a puddle of his father´s blood.

There had been more than one death that night.  Both remaining members of the Snape family were murderers.  Severus began to breathe raggedly.  He was a murderer.  A murderer. 

Just like his father.

"No!" Severus gasped in realization.  Dumbledore´s words ripped through his mind.  I had hoped you would be more like your mother.

She loved me!

Would she still?

Suddenly a noise he hadn´t noticed before intruded his thoughts.  It was a welcome intrusion, and he turned in shock to see where it came from.

There lying on the pillows of his bed was a squalling baby.

He stared bewilderedly at it for a moment.  Then he slowly sat down on his bed, his eyes wide, and picked it up.

The baby was a girl.  She had deep, liquid brown eyes and ebony hair.  She was pale-skinned.  Her tiny fists beat out at him as he held her.  Her eyes were squeezed shut, wispy eyebrows furrowed in exasperation. Severus cradled her in his arms, numb to her terrified screaming as blood soaked into her clothes from his.  Tiny droplets of scarlet slid down the congealed strings of hair hanging around his eyes, dropping off of the ends and onto her delicate face.  He then realized the depth of his father´s sin.

For the first time in his life, everything was horribly, horribly clear.  He sat back against his pillows, pulling his knees up as close to him as he could get them, and holding the baby as tightly as he could between his arms and his chest.  Feeling like an infant himself, Severus cried with her.

***

Hours passed.  Severus didn´t move from his room.  He didn´t move at all.  The baby was asleep now, resting in his bloodstained arms, her minuscule fingers gripping the fabric of his sodden robes.  Her little body rose and fell with his chest.  He was leaning back against the head of his bed, his own head tipped back.  He stared emptily at the wall across from him, his eyes glazing over the cold bodies on the floor.  He had no idea what time it was, but he really didn´t care.  It was always dark in his bedroom. 

  His mind was empty except for one useless, redundant thought.  Why?  Why any of it?  Why hadn´t he realized what was wrong?  How could he have been so oblivious to all of this?  What could he have done to stop it?  If Charity had only told him what was wrong, none of this would have happened.  If she had only heeded his warning not to come to the Snape Manor that night which seemed years ago...

Useless.  That´s what he was.  Pointless, helpless, useless...weak.

Too stupid to see what was right in front of him.

Too selfish to care.

Too hurt to control himself.

Too frightened to move.

He closed his eyes, wishing he could die right then and there.  Leave the world behind, and go somewhere far away where he would never have to see himself again.  Unfortunately, he figured the only place he would be going after death would be his own personal hell.  He imagined this as a place with the stereotypical fire, lots of mirrors, and accusing voices of his past whispering into his mind.

With one out of three, he was closer to hell than he had ever been.

In deep contemplation of this, he didn´t hear the pop as two men Apparated into his bedroom.  Both men were clad in strangely reflective, hooded robes of black.  One of the men was masked, and the other wasn´t.

"What have you done?"  A voice hissed at him.  Severus first thought this was just another of his delusional memories, but then a hand slid behind his head, grabbed his hair, and jerked his head forward.  His eyelids shot up in alarm, his black eyes flying to the masked man before him.  "What have you done, boy?"

Severus remained silent, staring defiantly up at the man.  He hoped his insolence would get him killed.

"Let him go, Deucalion," said a silkily stern voice from the shadows.  The second man stepped forward.  Severus felt a sword of terror bolt down his body as his eyes traced the barely distinguishable outlines of the face within the hood.  He recognized that voice, that face...

The masked man-Deucalion-roughly let Severus go, taking a step back.  His Master slowly approached the bed, stepping carelessly over the bodies on the floor.  As he got nearer, the face behind the hood came into sharper focus.  Its eyes widened as they surveyed the bundle in Severus´s arms, reflecting the blood that covered him.

"What is this?" he breathed, reaching down and laying a thin white finger upon the baby´s cheek.  She shivered in Severus´s arms, and he instinctively tightened them about her.

"My sister," croaked Severus, only just realizing it himself.

The Dark Lord sucked in his breath violently, as if he had been struck in the chest.

"It cannot be," he hissed in disbelief.  "The child is Impure!  I feel its sullied blood pulse beneath its skin...Senan would not commit such treachery!"

Severus actually chortled sardonically at this.  The Dark Lord´s eyes flashed angrily at him.

"Senan," Severus rasped, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "would do anything that got him what he wanted."

"Senan would not want this child," snapped the Dark Lord.

Severus looked down at the little girl.  "No," he agreed quietly.

Voldemort slowly looked down, his eyes sliding to Senan´s disfigured body.  Then he looked at the girl crumpled beneath his feet.

"Snape," he said coldly, "you are in dangerous territory.  For the first time in six years, my most loyal follower has been absent for a gathering.  In seeking him, I find that he is dead at the hands of his own son, who claims to be holding a disgrace to his bloodline." He paused, curling his lip down at Charity. "And this," he said, nudging her with his booted toe.  Then he looked back up at Severus.  "You had best explain yourself."  He pulled out a wand and pointed it between Severus´s eyes in one fluid movement.  "Before you dig yourself in deeper."

Severus took a deep breath, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes.  He wouldn´t talk.  Only a few seconds of silence, and he would surely be done for.

The seconds lengthened.  Severus slowly dared to let his body relax, but when he finally opened his eyes again, he was blinded by a flash of light.  His body was on fire; burning, twisting, screaming, pleading, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing- It stopped abruptly, and Severus trembled all over.

The baby bawled angrily in his arms, which had convulsed around her so tightly that it was a miracle she hadn´t suffocated.

"Explain," said Lord Voldemort again.  Severus shook for a moment, staring at the wand pointed at him.

"Not my fault!" tumbled from his lips unexpectedly.  "I didn´t mean to!"

The wand didn´t move.

"He killed her!" babbled Severus confusedly.  "I didn´t kill her!"

"You killed your father," Voldemort reminded him harshly.

"I killed my father," Severus muttered to himself.  He didn´t know what to make of that.

Impatient, Voldemort cast Cruciatus on Severus once more.  As the pain broke through his strength, Severus screamed out:  "I HAD TO!"

It stopped.

"Why?" hissed his father´s Master.

Before he could stop himself, words began to spill from Severus.  He told them everything.  He watched the little girl shriek at him as he spoke in a monotone.  The Dark Lord watched him carefully, taking in not only his words, but his demeanor as well.  It was painfully easy to detect every weakness and vulnerability of the young man.  He would be easy to manipulate.

When Severus had lapsed into silence, he kept his eyes downcast.  He was fully expecting to be cursed again.  He only wished that this time Voldemort would use the curse of death instead of the curse of pain.

"Oh, Severus," he said in a façade of gentleness, his tone striking Severus as vaguely familiar.  Severus looked up nervously.

"The world is a cruel place for one so lost as you."

Severus stared at him, narrowing his eyes in confusion.  Why was be being so compassionate?  Severus may not have known the Dark Lord, but he was familiar with his aforementioned qualities, and compassion was definitely not one of them.

"...Lost?"  He ventured after a moment of silence.

"Seduced by a traitor in disguise," said Voldemort, his voice smoothing over Severus like waves as he gestured down toward Charity.  "A temptress who hardly knew of her own untrustworthiness, I daresay.  She was foolish; she wanted the glory that a Mudblood could never have.  She coaxed you into friendship, dear boy, and used you as a link to the pureblood world she lusted after.  She seduced Senan as well, in a treacherously literal sense.  Don´t you see?  She has borne the fruits of her deception, and she has brought them back to the site of her enticements.  It appears Senan had come to his senses too late...and you have yet to do so completely."

Severus looked down, letting the Dark Lord´s words sink in.  He felt icy fingers curl around his chin, lifting his face to look into the face of their owner.  Irises of blood drew him into their circles of acceptance, calming him into rationality.  His shining black eyes soaked in the veil of comfort shining from red ones.  He was right, of course...

"She wove her enchantments on you well," sang that cool voice, "but I can help you unravel them."

"Help me," Severus gasped, pouring his soul into those words.  His eyes widened earnestly.  "Help me."

The Dark Lord´s lips curved into a small smile, and he released Severus´s face.  "I can help you," he said again.  "If you help me.

"A valuable soul has been lost to me tonight.  The heart of a true follower can never be replaced, but it can be compensated for.  The void which has been left can be filled with the soul of another, one whom I can teach the ways of righteousness.  The ways of redemption...One whom I can eventually mold into a purity so formidable that nothing can corrupt it.  Do you understand what I am saying?"

Severus thought for a moment.  "Yes...I think-"

"And do you also understand," said Voldemort, his voice growing sharper, "what you will face in the absence of such a redemption?  I will not need to worry my hands with your punishment; the unsuspecting world will do it for me."  He paused, looking levelly at Severus.  "There is a high price to pay for murder, boy, in any society.  And others will not be so benevolent."

"I understand," said Severus heavily.  The weight of responsibility on his shoulders seemed to age him in seconds.  He looked up.  "What do you want me to do?"

"Kneel, Severus," said Voldemort, taking a step back and opening his arms.  "I will show you."

Severus laid the baby down on his blood-encrusted pillows and knelt before the Dark Lord.

"Raise your left arm."

He did so.  The Dark Lord pushed Severus´s stiff sleeve down past his elbow, wrapping the fingers of his left hand around Severus´s wrist.

"Severus Snape," he said so softly that Severus could barely hear him. "In the presence of a witness-" He nodded over his shoulder at Deucalion, who still lurked uncertainly behind him. "-I ask you to bind your loyalty to me.  I ask you to make my will your own, and to follow it with the utmost devotion.  I ask you to become part of a great allegiance; a brotherhood with a passion for the purity, dignity, and honor of a pureblooded, Arian race.  You will be my Servant, and I your Master.  You will serve my priorities only, placing them first and foremost above your own.  Will you, Severus Snape, bind your soul to this contract infinitely, only to break it with the price of your life?  Will you join me?"

A deep flame burned within the Dark Lord´s eyes, and Severus stared into them, captivated.

"Yes," he breathed. "I will."

"Then accept this Mark of Darkness as a token of your bargain, to guide your steps to my side, and to remind you to whom your soul is bound."  Voldemort held out his right hand and blew gently into it.  Black flames engulfed the surface of his palm, tracing the shape a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.  He gazed hungrily into it for a moment.  Then he suddenly yanked Severus´s wrist up with his left hand, pressing that flaming palm against the soft skin of Severus´s forearm.

Excruciating pain seared into his arm, and Severus cried out in agony.  He was blinded by white pain for an instant, and then Voldemort dropped his arm.  Severus crumpled to the floor, nearly unconscious.

He looked blearily at his forearm.  The design of the skull and snake was starkly tattooed there, still dull with pain.  A thin white light traced its outline faintly, before fading into his skin.

"Welcome," he heard the voice of his Master echo to him from above.  "Stand, Severus, and walk with me into the arms of your future."

Severus swayed drunkenly to his feet, vaguely noticing that all of the blood had gone from his clothes.  He was clean and dry.  Voldemort embraced him.  Then he stepped back, and Deucalion embraced him as his Witness.  When Deucalion drew back, Severus felt himself smile.

Accepted!

"A formal announcement will be made at our next official meeting.  I will Call you," said Voldemort curtly, and pulled out his wand to Disapparate.

"My Lord," said Severus quickly.  He hesitated, then gestured back to the bed.  "What of the child?"

Voldemort paused, his thin white face turned to the crying girl on Severus´s bed.

"She is your responsibility now," he said finally.  "You will raise her in her father´s place.  She is of impure blood, Severus, and an abomination to you.  She is part of the price you must pay for your sins."

Severus nodded his head, and when he looked up again, his Master and Witness had gone.

He picked up the child again, and walked from the room.  He locked the door behind him, and then performed a concealment spell, so that the door looked like any other length of bare, stone wall in the Snape Manor.

No one would ever go in there again.

He walked down to his father´s rooms, directing his bags (which had been waiting for him outside his bedroom) along in front of him.  He would use Senan´s rooms from now on.  He placed the baby on the pillows of Senan´s former bed, staring at her.  Something deep within him told him what to name her.  She must have already had a name, but he would never know it.  He reasoned with himself on the outside that this name would only serve the purpose of reminding him what he´d done.  He denied the lurking reason inside.

"Charity," he whispered to her.

Then, riddled with exhaustion, he collapsed.