Subplot

17 - Snape

It was one of these nights when he dreaded sleep, when he tried to put it off until fatigue forced him to lay down. Somehow he felt the nightmares creeping up behind him as if waiting for the minute he closed his eyes. If he kept awake long enough, he might sleep dreamlessly. Of course there were potions that might assure the same, but it was better to use them on occasions of special need only. For him the threat of nightmares was always there, so he did not dare use potions that might get him addicted to them over the time.

Snape sat down on the edge of his narrow cot, staring into the flame of a single magical candle on the table beside the bed. His room deep down in the dungeon was as plain as a cell, the only luxury in it, with exception of the grandfather clock he had inherited from a distant relative, were a couple of spells that kept it dry. Defying luxuries was just one more way of proving he had left his parents' influence behind him: They had constantly tried to appear as a wizard family older and wealthier than they actually were.

He had brought a mouldy old book from his office where he kept all his important things, hoping to kill time by studying a complicated matter, but found he could not keep his mind on it. As rather often in the last few months, he fought to keep his thoughts off the memories that kept him awake at night - fought but lost. After all, he could not forget.

As a student he had always spent his time with his Slytherin gang. He would not call them friends; especially after Valerie had disappeared, he had come to realise he rather despised than liked them. He'd made a few attempts to get real friends outside the stiff hierarchies of the Slytherin house, but found his reputation prevented this. The rebuke he'd received from Potter, Black and their bunch after he had attempted - clumsily, he had to admit - to strike contact with his Gryffindor year mates had hurt his pride in a way he had never truly overcome. His one or two tries to secure himself a girlfriend among the more eligible younger witches of his house had also failed, wounding him in the same way. By the time he got his top grade NEWTs, he didn't try anymore. He had never really broken with his Slytherin gang; when his connections got him a well-paid job at Avery Potion Making, he didn't think about it twice. His parents approved of his choice of profession, claiming that it was truly in the Slytherin tradition of the family. Snape hung out with his old friends, and when they asked him to join the Death Eaters, he did. He let Lord Voldemort put his mark on him.

Snape never talked about his time as a Death Eater and did his best to forget it, but it haunted him to this day. Being a relative newcomer, he had never actually killed anybody. But he had stood by and watched; he hadn't interfered, and after a while they had taught him to torture people. There was no denying that he hadn't left the Death Eaters even though he knew he'd be expected to kill, too, very soon. During his time with them he had helped other Death Eaters to break into the houses of their victims; he had conjured up the Dark Mark in the sky to let everybody know they had come to kill, and he had hurt people beyond the power of words. Some victims had been on their knees, pleading for their lives and for the lives of their loved ones. He could still hear the screams of terror, the voices of the tortured, and see the pain-distorted faces when he closed his eyes. They lurked in his dreams.

He could not tell why he had not done what was in his power to stop the Death Eaters, or, if too cowardly to die the death of a hero, why he hadn't tried to run. He remembered these days as a blur of terror and dark fascination with the power he suddenly wielded. And of course she had been there, dealing out the power, promising pleasure and pain. The torturer that had become the tortured in the end - he shuddered when he thought of her.

Had he believed in what he was doing back then? He could not tell anymore. It seemed to him he had just followed orders, had run with the crowd, drifting in and out of evil deeds without putting his own judgement to use. That night at their group's headquarters they had been planning the death of several witches and wizards; he remembered vaguely that it had come to him as a bit of a shock that he knew some of the names on the death list as former schoolmates. While he was still staring at the names of the people in whose death he was to participate actively for the first time, a loud bang startled all the hooded and masked wizards in the room: Their security spell had violently been broken.

For a second all of them stood as if Stunned, then a panic broke out. Everybody tried to find a way out, just any way. Somebody shoved Snape; someone else stepped on him. Before he knew what was going on, he was the only Death Eater in the room, lying on his back, aching all over and looking into the black protective mask of an Auror bending over him. A wand was pointed straight at his face. "Move an inch, and you're dead," a steely, high-pitched voice snarled. A gloved hand roughly tore away the mask from his face, then stopped dead in the middle of the movement. "Verus!" the voice said softly but intensely.

The Auror straightened and gave him a hand up, though not without pocketing Snape's wand. He knew her then for the friend he had once had at school. "Don't tell me you're one of them," she said with a sadness in her voice that hurt him in a place inside of him that he had considered dead for years.

After a moment's hesitation, she pulled him towards a window. "Let's get out of here. We're going to blow up the whole place!" Outside, she ran to a bush about twenty steps off, hanging on to his arm with an iron grip. He felt numb; even though he knew he was facing a life sentence in Azkaban, flight simply did not occur to him.

As they ducked behind the bush, Valerie blew a signal on the silver whistle that hung around her head. Others blew the same two-note sequence in response from further away. After the seventh signal, she said "alright" in a grim voice. Then she pointed her wand at the building, shooting a huge ball of fire at it. Others seemed to have done the same. With a deafening noise, the headquarter building collapsed into dust particles.

With a gasp Valerie pulled off her mask to reveal a beautiful face which Snape knew and did not know at the same time; her black hair was matted with sweat and dirt at the temples but fell over her shoulders like a sheet of silk. The light of the fire shone on her skin. He just said the first thing that came into his mind:

"You're too young to be an Auror."

She looked him straight into the eyes. "So? You're too nice to be a Death Eater, yet we are both here."

Her gaze seemed to focus on something beyond him for a moment, then she said: "I don't really want to send you to Azkaban, so you will have to change sides tonight. Are you prepared?" He nodded, because he could not find enough breath to speak. "I'll have to rejoin the others. Hide until we are gone, then get rid of these clothes as fast as you can and go to Dumbledore. He'll know what to do. Maybe you can spy for us." Again he nodded, unable to take his eyes off her. "You promise?" she asked, holding his gaze. "I promise," he finally managed to croak. She reached into her robe pocket and gave him back his wand, squeezing his hand in hers for a moment. "We'll see each other again," she said, locking his eyes again. Then she was gone.

Somehow Snape managed to get to Hogwarts without being discovered. He told Dumbledore of the horrors he'd seen as a Death Eater, that he'd seen the error of his ways and would try to make up for it with any task as dangerous as the headmaster could find for him. Somehow it would have sounded silly to say he had promised this to someone he had known years ago at school. Dumbledore believed his story and agreed to make him a spy. Snape told a grim-looking committee of Aurors all he knew and returned to the his day job as Potion Designer and to the nightly crimes of the Death Eaters, sneaking out to Hogwarts in secrecy to betray their names and plans. It was a dangerous job, but for some reason, they never suspected him until it was too late, maybe because they found it amusing to have him around. Helped by a tiny flask hidden in his sleeve, Snape had taken to vomiting at every scene of torture or death to avoid having to participate in it. The other Death Eaters never forced him to, but neither did they tire of chasing him around the scene of the crime with cut-off limbs oozing blood, a sport that seemed to enhance their enjoyment. Of course, his abstention had not helped the victims one whit. He might as well have tortured them himself.

Never in all this time had Snape seen Valerie, or had heard anybody speak of her. Between some hideous and dangerous tasks that required all his attention, he started to think a lot about her. Had she tried to contact him? Was she alright? Not knowing who else to talk to, he once more turned to Dumbledore, asking if he had ever heard of her again.

"It is strange that you should mention her," the headmaster had pondered, his forehead deeply wrinkled. "She obviously trained as an Auror for a time under an assumed name. To be accepted for Aurors' training, she provided a fake Hogwarts NEWTs degree dated four years back. They found out who she was only when she was investigated after she let a Death Eater escape at a raid. She was to be sent to Azkaban, but managed to get away. I believe she has fled the country."

"That Death Eater was me! She sent me to you to be a spy or I would still be one of them. I know that she is not a traitor!"

Dumbledore had given him a sharp look. "You should have said that straight away - it might have helped her case. However, I am not sure whether we can trust her. I shudder to think it is in her power now to betray you to the Death Eaters."

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What would have happened if he had told Dumbledore the whole story straight away? He had been wondering all these years. Would they have believed her? Would they have permitted her to continue her training as an Auror? Would she have stayed in Britain, would she have come to see him at Hogwarts, would she have loved him? Would she maybe even have managed to exorcise some of the demonical memories that lived on inside of him? Snape stared into the flame of his candle, feeling that rest would not come easily that night.

A sharp rap at the door startled him back into the present. It was way past midnight, when most people in this castle would be asleep. He was not used to being disturbed at night. With a frown he opened, only to find Valerie standing outside his door.

Still in the grip of his memories, he felt a strong urge to touch her face, to pull her into his cell and tell her all the things that were on his mind. Her burning eyes and her ashen face told him she had come to see him for reasons of her own, though. "I need to talk to you, Verus," she said.

He offered her a seat on his cot as there was no chair in his room, then sat down at the far other end, not daring to come closer. She had caught him at a moment when he had his defences down, and he found it difficult to collect himself. "Talk," he said curtly.

She took a deep breath; the faintest flush returned to her cheeks. "I thought about the things you said about my method a couple of months ago, that it's worthless if it can't be tested against Avada Kedavra, and I realised you are right."

Admittedly, the Strengthening methods of Professor Varlerta were not among the things preying on his mind right now. In his confusion it took him a moment to find the correct reply to her announcement. "Then you'll stop your silly research?"

"Oh no! What I mean is, I'm prepared. I want to test it tonight, so I need your help."

"You don't mean that I -" Snape suddenly had the impression that the room started to slightly spin around him. "Oh no, I won't. This is madness, and you know it! I won't do it this time."

"Yes, you will. I'm sure it is safe. I've double- and triplechecked everything, and I've got extra help from another full moon visit to the stone circle yesterday. Now all I need is the practical test. Don't worry, I'm neither suicidal nor out of my mind."

Snape was groping for words, any words that might convince her she was wrong. He felt slightly nauseous. "Valerie, if this goes wrong, there's no way back. You will die, no matter how firmly you believe in your method. You see why I can't help you this time."

"I told you it's safe." She held her back very straight and looked sure of herself. "Anyways, I've drawn up a document saying that the whole responsibility of this experiment rests with me and that everything happens in the name of research. It's watertight, don't worry."

"That's not my worry," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm saying I will not point a wand at you and attempt to kill you, no matter in the name of what or who."

"You will have to," she said matter-of-factly. "I am sorry, but no one else will do. I know that you know how to do it and that you are powerful enough to do it properly. You know my method and won't try to curse me at the wrong time, or mess it up any other way, which might prove to be fatal. And I know I can trust you, no matter what. The method has to be tested, and is has to be tested soon, so I can teach it to as many students as possible if it works."

"If it doesn't work, you won't be able to teach it to anyone anymore."

"Doesn't matter." She wiped his objection away with a movement of her hand. "As you said, it's worthless if it can't help us against the Death Curse. Anyways, I know it will work, because I perfected it. So come on, let's get it done, so we don't have to worry about it any more."

She got to her feet, offering him her hand. He ignored it and got up. When she walked out of the dungeon's door without another word, he followed.

On the way through the pitch dark grounds to her building, he tried once more.

"In earnest now, you can't be serious about this. It is nothing but utter foolishness to take such a tremendous risk just in the name of research."

She did not slow her step until they had arrived at her door. After opening the door with her ridiculous password she said to him: "Some of us take deadly risks every day. Aurors do, and the witches and wizards that keep a guard on Azkaban, and some of the people from the ministry. It's not exactly like you never risked your life as a spy. You would never give up an important project at this stage of the operation, I know that much. I'd rather take this risk now when I'm in Hogwarts in safety than wait until the moment I'm facing him without knowing whether or not I'm protected."

There was something deadly wrong in her line of argumentation, but he somehow couldn't find words to express it here and now on her doorstep, so he followed her inside. The dark main room greeted them with many small green and red lights. When she ignited the magic torches, he saw that everything was ready: All the magical-electronic instruments were switched on, as indicated by little beads of coloured light on their armatures. On a stand in front of the box she called an amplifier stood her guitar, the mother-of-pearl inlay of rose and serpent gleaming in the sudden blaze of light. So she had known he would do it all along, he thought grimly. The brightness of the room stung his eyes; he rubbed them absentmindedly while she took two pairs of her magic ear protectors from one of the blinking boxes. Kneading them in her fingers without looking at him, she said:

"Ok, here's my safety briefing. To make sure it won't go wrong, I'll stand in the ideal spot between the two large speakers for now; you best stand back there beside the door. We'll put on the earies, and you'll give me about two minutes to build up my wall of sound. When I'm ready for you, I'll nod. Don't be shy about it, just give me the full blast." She laid one of the protectors in his hand; he went to the spot she had indicated, still holding it. Valerie put on her pair of ear protectors, strapped the guitar over her shoulder and retrieved her dragon scale plectrum from the slit she had stuck it in.

"Don't forget your earies," she said, oblivious to the fact that she was talking too loudly as she could not hear herself. He found it difficult to put the protectors on his head correctly because his hands were shaking, but finally he nodded towards her. She took a deep breath and then put the shiny plectrum to the strings, doing something or other with the fingers of her left hand. When the strings started to vibrate she turned to the device she called speaker to get the effect she called feedback.

As in the duel they had fought in this room before, he felt the impact of the sound on his body before he heard the small fraction of it which his ear protectors let through. The vibration enveloped him, tingling on his skin and dazing his mind. As much as he found Valerie's Muggle guitar garish and appalling, there was something in her music that spoke to him even if he tried to ignore it. Tonight there was more in the sound than just music. The feeling of power coming up from the soil beneath itself was even stronger than the last time he had stood here facing her, wand in his hand. Something between his eyes or maybe within his nose started to ache slightly, and he felt his throat close as if overwhelmed with emotion. He could sense the strength she gathered around her and with a surge of relief realised she would succeed and his curse would fail.

Just that moment he saw her nod at him. Her eyes were burning, but her mouth was set with determination. Slowly he rose his wand and pointed it at her, trying to remember the words we was supposed to say. While searching his mind for them, he found a stream of warmth and happiness flowing up through his legs into his stomach. Suddenly he felt strong, powerful, almost almighty. She turned around to face him, looked afraid of him for an instant. A strange joy flooded him. He knew the words now, knew he could utter them.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He heard his voice even through his ear protectors. A blaze of green light shot out of his wand, blinding him painfully. He felt his back slam into the wall. The wand in his hand seemed to sing a wild tune which he rather felt than heard. Swirls of purple spots danced before his eyes, clouding his vision. He tried to call her name, then groped for his ear protectors until he managed to tear them off. Snape rubbed his eyes them until he could see the room again. Valerie lay flat on her back, deadly pale, eyes closed. Her left hand still gripped the guitar, its position odd as if it was dislocated. All the strings on her instrument were broken, poking out at odd angles. He could not see her chest rising or falling. Cold fear filled his lungs.

Within a second, he was at her side, shouting her name, shaking her and trying to find a pulse on her right wrist. Her hand was clammy and cold, her lips bloodless. He called her name again, then, retaining a minimum of sense, removed her ear protectors. Still she did not stir when he called her.

He sat at her side, her cold hand in his, unable to move or think. The room seemed to go in and out of focus, a frame of darkness closing in on his mind. Seconds passed like hours. Then suddenly her eyelids fluttered; he could feel the faintest wriggle in the fingers he had clasped in his. Her eyes opened and finally focussed on his. Her lips distorted into a smile; a cut where she must have bit her lower lip started to bleed. "Told you I could do it," she whispered.

The numbness in his mind subsided only gradually. He stared at her, watched her unclasp her left from her guitar and withdraw her right from his hand, wriggling her fingers, then kneading one hand with the other for a few seconds. She sat up and clumsily disengaged her guitar strap from her neck, trying to place the instrument on its stand. He took the guitar from her hand and found its stand which had been blown away into one of her many devices. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he noticed that in fact a lot of things in the room had been blasted about, that the place looked like it had been hit by a minor earthquake. Something felt definitely wrong inside his body.

"Told you I could do it," she had said. He helped her get up as she seemed almost too weak to stand. She braced herself on the amplifier, her face looking ashen but somehow smug. "Told you I could do it." He stared at her, hearing the sentence over and over in his head, louder and louder, until it became a deafening roar. His face felt oddly tense, his throat ached, his hands clenched. He realised he was gripping her shoulders, shaking her and screaming in her face.

"How could you do that? How could you make me do that? You don't care a slimy dragon dung about me, do you? Safe, huh? That was about as safe as a game of Uncontrollable Pool, if you ask me! And you would have me be your murderer, is that it? Provide me with a note that says it's alright to kill you in the name of science, and everything's fine? What a great friend, you impress me with your consideration! Don't you think I have enough nightmares already?"

He shoved her against the amplifier. She gasped as she slammed into it, swayed for the fraction of a second and then stood straight before him, chin up, holding his gaze. She took a deep breath.

"I know I did you wrong, and I'm sorry for it, but I saw no other way. And I can't say I regret it, even though it was a near miss. I thought the shield was perfect, but you showed me the flaw in it. I didn't know it was possible to tap the power my spell gathers from the soil, but you just did, probably without even planning to. Well, now I know better and will find ways of preventing it. Yell at me all you like, I can take it and probably deserve it, but I know I did the right thing."

He had himself under control well enough by now to stand before her without tackling her physically again. The heat of his anger had cooled down as fast as it had flared up, but beneath it he found a cool wrath, and, deeper yet, its burning core of pain. He tasted bitter gall in his mouth; his voice was reduced to an evil hiss.

"Oh, you did me wrong, but you did the right thing at the same time, did you now? I tell you what, I've got enough of your games once and for all. The thought of you makes me sick. Find someone else to play with, maybe Sirius Black or whoever else you're currently seducing, but leave me alone from now on. I'll never forgive you as long as I live."

For once, she had no fitting reply in store, but just stood there looking at his feet rather his eyes. He turned on his heels and left, but not quickly enough to miss the words she said softly before he slammed the door shut after him:

"I'm sorry I abused our friendship, Verus, but I hope you will forgive me before we die."