Scarred Past

CHAPTER 1: The Light and The Dark

Snape gasped awake. It was the dream again. It chilled him to the bone every time it came. To admit it was a nightmare would to be to admit his life was a nightmare. He reached he hand to his face and was surprised to find it wet. He hadn't cried for a while now. He was getting used to not having his pillow damp as he slept.

It had been so vivid. Not like it usually was. It was like it had been, before he had learned to forget. He didn't doubt that something unusual was about to happen, something important. He frowned, he didn't like not knowing things. There was no other explanation for it. Unless he was getting soft again. He dispelled the thought from his mind but he knew it would fester for days to come, until once again he sort the safety and comfort of The Lodge.

The faint memory of the last time he had visited The Lodge sent a shadow of a smile across his face, painting it with a strange mix of emotions, a twisted vision. A man with dead eyes, tears falling in silver veins down his cheeks and a slight curving of the mouth, barely enough to call a smile.

She was in it, like she usually was but it went for longer than it usually did. The strange feeling of tension and loss was still curdling his blood, usually it left with the dream. He wondered what she was doing, did she have 'the dreams' as well.

He dare not say her name, even to himself. Denial kept her from saturating his thoughts, to accept it would mean to let her cloud his thoughts.

He dismissed her. It was painful, the dream, that harsh reminder. Loving the woman who saw him only as an animal. As inhumane. Did he love her? Could he love, was he capable of such a strong emotion. He kept emotions from himself in hope it would dull the pain that wore at his conscience. He shivered. He hated what he was, a creature spawned of evil, never to see the true side of love and pride of anyone.

He thought he loved her. He loved her as the darkness loved the light. Caressing the beauty and purity, holding onto it and standing every ready at its side... But fleeing from her, the light, running from her beauty should he been seen for what he is under the untainted gaze.

He chuckled, a cold weary laugh, brutal in its delivery. He remembered a story he had been told once. About a woman and an animal. Her father wanted to give her something, anything to make her happy. He pressured her until she asked for a single rose. Being winter at the time there were no roses. But the man happened to stumble across one belonging to a beast lord. The beast became enraged after the man stole his enchanted rose, the only beauty in his life and asked for him, as a prisoner, in return. The girl refused to let her father go and went herself.

Of course in the end the girl fell in love with the beast and lived happily ever after. To bad stories weren't real.

He grasped at his forearm, it itched, the mental pain that the scar bared became a physical burning. He knew he would do it again. He had done it many times, trying to tear away the pain he felt, by destroying the mark. He had suppressed the feeling for it long ago. He was unwilling to die before scores had been settled, before he had been forgiven. Madame Hooch had found him. Lying on the floor, dying. Maybe death would have been better, an escape, from the pain and the guilt. First he needed to absolve his sins.

Everyone had been closed lip about it but he had felt humiliated. He knew he would have died had it not had it been for her finding him. He would have bled to death if she hadn't found him. Yet somehow he could never forgive her for taking his chance to clear his conscience. Death would have released him from his sins and somehow he though he would never kill himself deliberately. It was running, running from life and he had been taught never run, always stand for what you believe in. So much that had got him.

He stood up and slid his legs over the side of the bed. He picked up his dagger on the table next to his bed. He fondled the hilt and breathed in, holding the breath as if exhaling would take something important from him. He gripped the hilt hard till his knuckles turned white. He cut across the scull tattoo splitting the image in two. He carved across his skin, ignoring the pain as he severed the dark, stripping it from the light.

It seemed to take hours when in fact it was more like minutes, once the image was gone. Dumbledore knew he would do it again. He hated letting him down. Dumbledore had given him the only second chance he would ever receive and it cut to the quick every time he saw the sadness, pain and disappointment in his eyes when he found that Snape had cut himself again.

He pulled open the draw where he kept clean linen bandages and anapestic. He did it to avoid the shaming whispers in the office and the looks in the hall from Professors' and the wretched look of pity Dumbledore gave. He winced as he poured the antiseptic over the cut and then he bandaged the bleeding wound.

He couldn't heal himself, and even if he could he wouldn't because the mark would be back. It would mean a long sleeved robe even during this heat but he did that often enough not to draw stares like it used to.

He pushed his head back onto the pillow knowing that even without the pain that he wouldn't fall asleep. He let his mind drift and like always, his thoughts settled on her.

*

"How many times do I have to tell you no?"

"More than you can handle I'm afraid." She sighed in exasperation. "Stanly..." she knew her voice sounded pleading and she never used his full name unless she was stressed but she didn't really care, it was Stan she was talking to. "I wont lie to you, we need you. In fact we need anyone we can get. People are scared right now, most of the force is new and they haven't been in the field. You had the highest score on The Test we've had in, say 3000 years one of the youngest too and then you just up and leave. You're still as young as the new ones; most of our seasoned fighters are old as the hills, perhaps older. The young ones will look up to you."

"What did I say Stan? Why do you incessantly try to get me back? You've been trying it for years what makes you think I'll change my mind now?"

"Because it was all bullocks before. We really need you back... I need you back." His face was pained, that usual smiling face seemed haggard and all the overtime he had been doing lately shone through like a dirty grey cloud. "Your pushing yourself to hard, one day you'll break." His grin was haggard and it didn't touch his eyes, all that filled them was a cold self-pity. "I just don't want to come back because..." she faltered, "Because I can't do the job, once I had learned that I had to quit. Lives would be at stake if I didn't."

"You know what I think?"

"No, how would...?"

"Just shut up and listen." She was taken aback, he never raised his voice to her. This side of Stan had never been revealed to her. Her shock must have shown on her face, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." he sighed and ran his finger through his hair, he started again, yet, his voice was subdued this time, "I think you're afraid. Your afraid of You-Know-Who..."

"Please don't call him that." Her voice was ragged and brutal, she had given up arguing, she would listen, not that it would make a difference to her decision, she would not go back! "I've always called him Voldemort, I'm not going to stop now just because some parent's don't want their kids knowing of the great evil in the world. Not saying his name just makes us more scared of him."

"Well maybe your not afraid of Voldemort," the name seemed strange in his mouth, like he had never said the word. Not surprising, he probable hadn't used it since the Uprising. "But your afraid of this job because, maybe, you cant be the best like you always are." How could he say that? "I hate to say it but I think your afraid of failing." Idiot!

"Of course I'm afraid of failing." Now it was his turn to look startled, "mistakes cost lives in the game Voldemort plays. It's a game you rarely get a chance to leave. Well I got that chance and I left. You no longer needed me and so I went away. That way I wont have a death on my conscience." Another one. "We need you now. You may mess up but no one will blame you."

"Oh and I suppose people change that quickly," She stared him down, she felt bad but it would be not even close to how bad she would feel if she messed up again. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's what every one says but they all blamed me."

"Blamed you? You blame yourself for that family? Jolee, there was nothing you could do."

"I could have! I could have just killed them and ended it."

"And kill an innocent man? That's not like you..."

"I killed a child!" Stan looked as if he'd been hit, "I killed a poor, innocent, defenseless, little child. I take the child any day over that man."

"How can you say that?" She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She didn't know how. She had seen that man at his worst, she knew him inside out, she was like his sister, not his mother, exactly, and yet she despised him simply because he told her not to shoot. It had been all her fault, she hadn't raised her wand, she had listened to a 'death eater' over common sense but still somewhere deep in her subconscious she blamed him.

How could she blame him? The thought rid on her conscience and burned, she hated him because every time she thought of him he reminded her of her mistake. Her mistake, she would not blame him.

Somehow she would make it up too him. She had decided then and there to somehow try and make his life a little better. Idiot, like she even knew where he was, she would never be able to contact him. She didn't even know his name.

Liar, of course she knew his name, Severus Snape. She had imbedded it into her mind, she hadn't meant too but everything that night had burned itself into her brain like a scar that refused to heal. Blistering and festering on her memory.

"Please..."

"I wouldn't even do it if you barked like a dog."

"Do you prefer hound or husky?" despite herself, she smiled. He was trying to make amends, and for that she was grateful. Mainly because she could never stay angry at Stan.

"Are you two all right?"

Jolee looked towards the doorway. Tashi stood with Jeremy in her arms. "We're fine. Were we too loud, did we wake the baby?" Stanley stood with a muddled smile on his face. He always went strange when he was around Tashi. "Can I hold him?" She had always wanted to hold Jeremy, but being away sort of cut that option out. Him being only 3 months old and her being off in Australia checking the bunyips hadn't helped. Muggles had been destroying the swap lands making it hard for bunyips to find food. "Sure, I know God Mothers always want to hold the baby."

"You mean...?" Tashi nodded and Jolee's face broke into a grin. "I'm honored, I'm stunned. I'm..."

"Just say you will." Tashi pleaded a look of honest agony and for the first time Jolee realized how much this meant to her. "Of course I think of no other thing I would like better."

"Told you she'd say yes." Jolee looked up at Stan, he stood with a smug expression on his face. She glared at him, "You mean you knew all this time and you didn't tell me?" She hit him on the arm, "You bastard!"

"Shhhh!" Tashi looked strange, she never seemed that stern, "Not in front of the baby." Jolee laughed, "Oh I guess you'll have to bite your tongue wont you Tashi?" Tashi coloured and looked away, "Just take him."

Jolee moved forward to take the bundle, "He's so light, he weighs practically nothing." Jeremy yawned and stretched his arms with such a cuteness that only three month old babies can achieve. "He's so..."

"So cute?" Tashi shone with pride.

"Yes."

Jolee handed Jeremy back to Tashi, and as the warm bundle left her arms she felt a profound sense of loss and she looked away trying to ignore the feeling. Stan crossed the floor to his wife and he stood looking intently over her shoulder staring at the swaddling in her arms. She took in the picturesque vision before he. It reminded her of he family, so perfect. She had been surprised that her upbringing could be so sheltered and being brought into the real world of hate and spite had shocked her intensely. She could only ever dream to become a family like that. Any way, she hated crying, late nights and dirty nappies.

"Come on Jolee just this once, once the jobs done you can leave." Stan hadn't removed his sight from Jeremy but even with his voice a whisper not an ounce of seriousness had left his words.

"No talking shop in front of the baby, you'll start yelling again."

"Then please..."

Tashi sighed at her husband, "Fine." She took pulled Jeremy from Stan's sight and stomped as quietly as she could out of the room.

"He's great isn't he? You're so lucky."

"Don't bounce off the subject." He frowned, "I'm not deterred that easily."

"At least tell me what I'll have to do."

"Your protecting children." She snorted, "What's this, you see me with your kid then decide to try and hack into my soft side."

"Well I've tried it the other way and it not working. So its time for a different approach."

"Why haven't you tried this before?"

"Because, as you said, I'm going to have to hack for it and I was going for a less violent means." She smiled, "You haven't changed a bit."

"I wish I could say the same for you." That drew the smile from her face. She'd knew she'd changed but... She was better this way. No one could be hurt from her mistakes.

Stan drew a photograph from his brief case and slid it across the desk. "What's this, a photo of your son to make me feel really bad?"

"It's a photo of Voldemort's last victim."

She picked it up. It was a smiling family, just like Stan's, in fact if the boy in the photo had been younger it would be exactly the same. Smiling faces, they wouldn't be smiling anymore had the images on the paper know what had happened. "What? The mother or the father?"

"Your quicker than that if I'm hacking for your soft side..." He paused waiting for her to catch on, when she didn't say anything he said, "it's the boy." His voice was void of emotion. That's how Stan dealt with work, he shut off and ignored it all. That was just the way he was. One day it would break him and he would become a shell of a man. He needed to stop before it did. Otherwise it would kill him. She had seen it happen before, but she wasn't the one who needed to tell him. She looked past Stan into the empty corridor Tashi had passed down.

"Cedric Diggory, smart, good looking, nice... Would have become a great man, if it hadn't been for Voldemort. Of course the boy blames himself and we need to protect him, not just from Voldemort but from himself and I don't know anyone else who can do that better than you."

"Why, what have I done?"

"You understand, you blame yourself too. Maybe you can learn something about learning from mistakes not hiding from them."

"Who is this boy?"

"The Boy-Who-Lived. Harry Potter." He slid over another photo and an article, "The kids amazing, Not only has he met with the Dark Lord three times and come out alive but he cares. He doesn't let fame get to him. He's no spoilt brat I tell you. In fact quite the opposite, he has to live with some Muggles with child abuse problems."

"Why don't they take him out?"

"Well Dumbledore, the kids headma..."

"I know who he is, he was a teacher when I went to school too remember?" He frowned at her, "You know I never went too Hogwarts..." It was strange, she always seemed to forget that Stan was a Muggle, no magic in him at all. When he married Tashi he became interested in the magical world and got a desk job in the Ministry of Magic got promoted till he became head of the Aoura section. He was very good at what he did and he never let being unmagical effect him or his work.

"Anyway, he's put a great protection spell on him, but it only works while he stays at the Dursleys."

"Dursley's?"

"The Muggle family, and to create another one would cause a great stir of magic that Voldemort would feel and as you and I know it takes while for a protection charm that big to actually start to work. No, he's safer where he is."

"So I'm to protect him?" She pointed to the pale child with bright green eyes and a lightning scar peeking from behind a mop of jet-black hair. "Yes."

"No surprises?"

"No surprises."

"If there are any surprises I will be very annoyed. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Jolee narrowed her eyes; she didn't trust Stan when it came to work. He would do anything to get her back on the force.

"I'll do it."

"Yes!" His eyes lit up and his face broke into a smile. It seemed all worth it just for that. "But remember that I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for him."

She pointed at Cedric, "Don't you mean Harry?"

"From what I've heard of Harry he can look after himself." Stan grinned, "Whatever you say."

*

"Have you got everything?"

"If I've forgotten something I'll figure it out later." Tashi's eyes fogged up. "Aww, don't cry, not on my account."

"Its just you've only got back and Stan's sending you away again."

"Don't worry, I'll live."

"But I wont." Tears trickled down her cheeks, "Don't do, that now I'll cry." Her voice was thick with emotion. Tashi laughed through the tears, "You? Cry? Never." Sarcasm dripped from her words, "Shut up ok?" Jolee's smile broke the harshness of the words.

"Can I kiss him before I go?"

"What are you proposing Jolee? I'm a married man." She hit Stan softly on the arm and he pretended to be hurt. "Oh you big baby," she mocked, "I want to kiss the little baby."

"Of course you can. Don't mind him." Tashi indicated Stan with a flick of her head, considering her arms were full.

Jolee put down the bags. "Come here gorgeous." She kissed Jeremy lightly on the cheek. Jeremy gurgled with delight.

"Go away. You're scaring him." Stan's eye's glittered wildly. "Fine I have to leave anyway."

She picked up her bags and apparated.

*

"Where ya goin missus?" Who was she? A new teacher maybe? Bit late if she was. By a week. The woman stood in front of him in full black robes and two bags sagging slightly. "Up to the School of course, why is there anywhere else to go?"

"Not really mam." He leaned on his rake, rather a good one he thought. Had it for a while he had. He looked up again; the woman was still there. "Waz thar n'ey thin else you wanted?"

"Yes there was actually." She paused before continuing "Well how long have you been a gardener?"

"Waz zat all mam, it iz kinda a strange question?"

"That's all I want to know."

"Well if thatz all. 50 years."

"Well thank you very much. I'm much obliged. Anything you want to know just ask me."

"Well seemin as urr gunna be stayin a while," he indicated the bags to prove he weren't snooping, "what's your name and urr bizness of the place." The woman smiled, it was pretty made her face light up kind of. Not his type though cause she was a bit plumpish in a strange way. A rounding of the edges he didn't particularly like.

"Jolee, my names Jolee Scathe."

"Scathe, I knowz the familee Scathe." The woman looked a bit shocked but she smiled, "You knew my parents?"

"Nay mam I remember a lil' tyke that used to run rampant round the grounds when I first started working 'ere." Her smile broadened into a grin. "That would have been me."

"I guess it would av to be."

"Well I've changed, as so many people tell me."

"Change mam, we nevrr change we just get older." She looked at him thoughtfully, head tilted to one side, "Thanks for that. You put a load off my mind." And with that she walked up the winding road towards the Hogwarts gate.

Damn, should have asked if she wanted a carriage. Oh well. He stopped leaning on his rake and started using it, there was a lot of leaves considering it was summer.

*

She looked up at the large gate. With a flick of her wand and a word the gate swung open. It was quite a large gate; she was surprised if anyone could open it without a wand. She closed it behind her and looked back along the road. She could no longer see the old gardener she once knew. Strange, she didn't remember him. How did he know her? Oh well, she would find out if it was important, but curiosity tickled in her stomach.

A cold wind brushed past her. She pulled her robes around herself and cursed her 'gift'. The wind was her fault of course. Just like the weather, to copy her mood. In fact she new it did, she had tried to stop it but it wouldn't go away. She hated it, it was terrible, she could keep her face a steady as a rock, but as soon as anyone took a look at the sky they would know instantly what she was thinking. It wasn't that bad, small changes in her feelings didn't show up and some of her feelings could be mistaken for others. When she was excited, it was windy and when she was tired it was calm. But confusion and anger were the same, a thunderstorm.

She had almost been refused entry into the force because her 'gift' might give her away. After that she had to become an A class student before they would let her pass. They did eventually let her in, if reluctantly. But it hadn't mattered to her what they thought, if she could keep her secret from everyone at school, she could keep it from Death Eaters too.

She had kept her secret under raps so far. There was no way, magically possible of finding out, you just had to draw conclusions. But another 'Wind Child' would know. It was just a certain type of feeling you had around each other. You felt your emotions clash for supremacy of the skies. All Children of the Wind had divination abilities; it was a known fact that 'emotion weather' was part of divination itself though only a select few had it. It had been believed by some divination experts that 'emotion weather' only comes when you have a great magical mass of divination 'powers' and your body needed to find a release for it so it escaped into the weather taking a kind of guideline from how the wizard or witch was feeling at the time. It was a stupid theory because some of the 'Wind Children' had hardly any divination powers whatsoever.

Icy breezes came when she was being sneaky, mysterious or she was lying. It was a kind of punishment, she thought, be untruthful and you get a cold miserable sort of day. Since being in Australia for five months the air here felt colder than usual, even if it had been winter most of the time she'd been there. So it was with a heavy heart and an even heavier baggage she made her way towards Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry.