Scarred Past

CHAPTER 2: Truth Is A Fickle Thing

Snape sat at the long table ignoring everyone studiously. He knew no one was watching him but it didn't help. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up. He was so tense and his scab ached. The dreams had been getting worse, he couldn't understand it. He thought something was going to happen simply because it felt like something had to break and release all the suppressed energy in the air. Something told him something was going to happen, he had a way of knowing things like that. It had got stronger since Potter had come to Hogwarts things always happened around that boy.

He hated the way he was tied to The-Boy-Who-Lived, it was an annoyance to him all the time, an IOU that would never be paid till the day he died. He treated Harry and his friends with a malice that would toughen them. He knew they thought he was a cruel meticulous professor without a life, but better it be that way then they know he was looking out for them and them running to him at the first sign of danger. But, he had to admit, that he held a kind of grudge against Harry for being the son of his enemy.

The enemy who saved his life. He sighed, he hated that he'd saved his life, better he die than feel like this. Then he would never have been able...

He ignored it, just like he always did, ignored it in vain. The vision of what he had done slithered in the back of his mind like a dying snake striking at anyone getting too close.

Suddenly Snape realized Filch's approach. The crocked man made his way between the students' tables towards Dumbledore. He leaned down and whispered in the old man's ear. He couldn't catch what Filch said but he heard Dumbledore's answer, "Invite her to dine with us." Snape felt himself relax, for the first time in three weeks. Like over-tight clothes being removed, only after you'd taken them off did you realize how uncomfortable they had been.

Filch hobbled back in a relived kind of way, probably because Madam Hooch refused to let him bring his 'filthy fleabag' into the Great Hall, especially while she was eating. Snape quietly agreed, he had had hay fever as a child and cats had left him sneezing for weeks after and even though magic had cured that vex Snape was glad never to see another cat ever again.

Filch reached the Hall doors, opened them and seemed to converse with someone out of sight. Filch entered the hallway and ushered a woman through the door.

By this time the students had realized something was going on. Some twisted in their seats to watch the new arrival. There was a kind of hush over the pupils as everyone told everyone else about the woman in black robes. She walked forward not seeming to notice the looks she got as she moved across the floor.

She seemed a little hesitant in the way she walked, edging forward in a kind of paced out walk, she looked as if she would bolt at the first sign of danger.

She looked up towards the Professors' table. Her eyes scanned the teachers one by one, pausing at Dumbledore. Then her eyes landed on his. Her stride faltered slightly and she quickly looked away.

Snape had a strange feeling he knew this woman. Was that what the look meant, that she knew him? He stared intently at the new arrival, willing her to reveal to him who she was. He frowned down at the table.

When he looked up again she was looking at him and suddenly he realized, she had the eyes of her. Her image burned on his mind, a figure at the window, bedraggled from the rain, lightning streaked across the sky and he saw the blue eyes piercing into his soul. Those same blue eyes looked towards him now with that same piercing stare. He yearned to pull away from that gaze but something held him rooted to the ground staring into the cold stare that slashed at his soul.

She broke the gaze first, tearing her eyes from his to look, to place her eyes once again on Dumbledore.

She looked taller and her face glowed slightly with a fading tan. Her hair was streaked by the sun and she seemed healthy enough, but... There was something missing, like something had died while his back was turned. He felt betrayed. This was not the woman he had met six years ago, she was different, colder. Maybe he was wrong. No he wasn't wrong, he knew her like his own mother. No, better than his own mother, the irony was strong.

He wanted to reach out to her, whatever had done this to her? It hurt him to watch her, he felt as if she too must be buckled with the agony he felt for her. He had loved what she had been but now...

Like always he stood where he was, silent and impartial, like always. His hands curled into fists and his face pulled into a grimace. He always did nothing, like the coward he was.

He grit his teeth and watched her take a seat next to Madame Hooch at the far end of the table. They conversed at length and then she started eating. He watched her, from a distance, never would he go close enough to tarnish her purity.

Snape's dinner lay cold and untouched by the time he stood. Only Dumbledore and she remained.

He couldn't pluck up the courage to talk to her. Deciding against it before he made a fool of himself he stood up to leave. He turned to the doors,

"Severus."

Snape almost choked, Dumbledore had called to him. He was so glad that no one was left in the Hall to see his expression. Putting on a calm face he turned to Dumbledore. "Headmaster."

"Come and meet our newest staff member."

"There's no need Dumbledore, I already know him." Dumbledore didn't hold back the expression of shock, "Oh I assure you Miss Scathe that you would not know Professor Snape. I've known you and there's no possible way..."

"I'm afraid she's right Headmaster."

"We met some time ago. Under terrible circumstances I assure you." Dumbledore looked from Snape to Scathe. "Well, I don't mean to be blunt but I expect any ones of your past job preferences would... well let us just say you wouldn't be very likely to get along."

Severus had nothing to say to that. "Dear Professor, no mean to be rude but I get along very well with the Professor." Scathe smiled, it seemed as light as a shadow on her face but instead of darkening her features it lit them.

"Well, well, well." That seemed to say it all, Dumbledore had known Scathe, he had admitted that much. For how long had he known her? Maybe he taught her? Snape started feeling uncomfortable. There was nothing to say and he felt rather stupid standing there like a big dolt. Why was he feeling stupid? He did this all the time trying to make others feel uncomfortable. "Well I must leave." It was Scathe.

"Oh no, don't leave on my account." Snape said it before he could stop it. Dumbledore looked at him strangely. "Professor, are you feeling ok?"

"Fine Headmaster, fine."

"Well I've gotta go. I'm, really tired."

Snape felt a cold breeze from an open window; it was a relief in his winter robes. "Did you feel that breeze?" Dumbledore shivered slightly, "It usually isn't this cold during summer. You would remember that, wouldn't you Jolee?" Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled slightly, his face showed that he knew something Snape didn't.

Scathe looked startled and slightly off balance by the comment, like it was her fault or something, like a guilty child that had left the window open when it was raining.

"I really have to go, but it's been nice catching up." She caught his eyes, "Both of you." She turned and walked across towards the doors.

He felt helpless. He wanted to call to her. To ask her for forgiveness. He sighed and let his head droop.

"Snape, I think we need to have a talk."

*

It wasn't like Snape to let his past history to get in the way of work but he needed to be sure. Albus trusted Snape with anything; he knew if it came to it, Severus would die for him. Not that it would mean much since this life held no joy for Snape. It was strange the way Severus had acted around the Jolee girl. He had never seen such a breakdown of character in him. Usually he was completely composed and not even he, who had known him for five odd years, could tell what was going on in his head.

"I swear to you Professor I will not let Miss Scathe get in the way of my teaching duties." Trust Snape to think of teaching as a duty. "I'm not asking you to swear, Merlin knows it I've sometimes slipped on the job, I'm just asking you to remember that no one knows that she used to be an Auror, not even the other Professors and, well it would seem strange for you to hate her so early on in the game."

"You think I hate her?" It was strange, Albus could have sworn that that was relief across his face. You must be getting sloppy old boy. Maybe he was just out of touch since he had never seen much of any emotion on Snape's face. "I don't think Snape, I know. You guys have history and I'm here to make sure they don't find out who she is and what you..." He dropped the 'were'. He left it hanging; he knew somehow that it would hurt Snape somehow if he recalled his past profession.

Snape seemed relived that he hadn't mentioned it and he took a deep breath.

"If there's nothing more?"

"No. There's nothing."

*

"She's hiding something."

"What are you on about Harry?" Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room reading a book, half listening to Ron and Harry's conversation.

"Don't eavesdrop, its not becoming." Ron was lounging on the rug in front of the fire glaring at Crookshanks, daring her to try and lie on the rug.

"I'm not eavesdropping, I'm just coming in on the conversation."

"Yeah well whatever you're doing, stop it, it's scaring me."

"You're scared of everything Ron."

"Hey!"

"Stop it you two." Harry hated when they bickered, "We've been back a week and you're already acting like a married couple." They both glared at him, "As I was saying, this new teacher..."

"Miss Flickwood?"

"No the other one, the one in the Great Hall last night, the woman in black."

"Ohhhhh, nice name for her, soon Ron will be calling her Scarlet Woman."

"That was a one-off thing Hermione. No need to go on about it."

"The point is, she's hiding something."

"What do you mean Harry, have you seen something?"

"No it's just that every year we get a new teacher, and each year we get lied to about some strange obscure secret they're hiding."

"Great Harry, now you're basing fact on coincidence. Next you'll think that Snape's a nice guy."

"As much as I hate it," Ron screwed up his face proving how much he hated it, "I agree with Hermione, what have you against this Lady in Black?"

"Oh now you're calling her that too."

"I just don't like the fact that every year were tricked by some teacher."

"Sometimes were not told because we might over react, remember Lupin?"

"Yeah but I'd just like to know about her secret before it becomes a problem."

"Harry, there are serious differences between this 'lady in black' and the others."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Well the others were all male."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Ron looked outraged, "Nothing I'm just trying to prove to Harry..."

"You're saying that males are more inclined to be immoral."

"No I'm not, I'm just pointing out the fact that they're not all the same so not all of them may have deep, dark, dreadful secrets."

"But you have to admit that it's strange, every year I have to face something. Something evil sent from Voldemort and I always seem to get away unscathed against humongous odds."

"Harry, you can't say you get away unharmed, you always end up in hospital for one reason or another."

"I got away unscathed compared to Cedric!" Harry didn't know why he said that. It had just come out. He hadn't meant to say anything about him. Every time he thought about Cedric, he remembered that night. It felt strange remembering that smiling face, they blamed him, they all did. Whatever they said he knew what they really thought. What galled him was that they were right.

"Harry, are you all right?" Harry looked up into Hermione's face, would she die because of him? It was kind of hard to see as his eyes had fogged over, he opened them wide trying to stop them flowing over. Ron stood behind Hermione, looking worried and not a little bit uncomfortable. His hands fidgeted behind his back and he could see that Ron wanted to cross over to him and comfort him, but he also knew that Ron wouldn't. Men didn't cry, and they didn't comfort either.

Harry knew this and also knew this was a compliment, a silent speech saying he thought of Harry as a man and would treat him like one until proved otherwise.

Sometimes Harry hated that rule.

*

It was Severus. Snape. Her mind didn't seem to register the reality of the situation; she said it over and over in her head, yet she seemed to reject the notion as likely. Hell, what were the odds? Now that she saw him her mind had somehow accepted the fact that it wasn't his fault. That there was nothing different he could have done. Even though her mind still rejected the idea as not possible. Severus Snape, Professor Severus Snape.

She closed her eyes and remembered every detail of his face, the black lank hair, the cold black eyes.

"She won't wake." His words were broken and whispered the sound of a man giving up all hope. Tears streamed from his eyes, "all... my... fault."

She gasped and dropped her bags, her eyes started blankly into the past. "Ma'am?"

Filch sounded scared, practically terrified. Not surprising since her manner was that of a petrified person. "Miss Scathe?"

Her breathing was rapid, "Oh Merlin." She sunk to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

"What's wrong?" Relief flooded his voice as he could see she wasn't petrified, only scared, "What is it?"

"A memory." Her voice was hollow and empty and with a brief struggle of effort she pushed off the stone floor and grasped her bags, "I'm sorry, I just..." Filch watched her with his beady little eyes waiting for the explanation that she could not give. "Don't worry about me, I'm well enough now." He seemed unsatisfied and somehow ill at ease, like she may faint at any time. "Don't worry, Hogwarts is a big place and the best of us get scared sometimes." His voice betrayed the fact that he didn't believe a word he was saying and it was all she could do not to punch him. Afraid? Of Hogwarts? Why, she had lived here most of her childhood, if there was one place she could call home, it was here. What, did he think her some weak willed, sissy girl from the city with no better thing to do than jump at mice?

She grit her teeth and blocked out what he had just said. It was better that he think her frightened than frightening.

She heard the patter of rain on the roof, had it been winter the slight patter of rain would have been a torrential downpour but even her 'abilities' couldn't change the weather so dramatically.

"Keep her comin' ma'am, no need to be 'fraid of a little rain." She decided then that she really did hate this man and under no circumstances would she go out of her way for him. The only way she could stop herself from showing her dislike on her face was to think of all the ways she could torture him, that is, if he was a Death Eater (the thought about doing so otherwise hadn't even crossed her mind).

She trudged along behind Filch wondering why she couldn't touch her meal and why Snape made her feel so uneasy. Maybe it was that stare of his, seeming to know your faults as soon as he saw them, or the way he held himself, like he was superior to everyone in the room, or maybe it was the way he had reached for his Death Eater mark the first time he saw her. Oh, she doubted if he had noticed it, he had done it with an air of involuntary action, even if he had noticed it she bet her wand that it had escaped him completely that he had done it on her very entrance.

She shook her head, trying to clear it to no avail; this was no time to dwell on the past. The past was gone and if it hadn't righted itself by now she had a feeling that it wasn't in a hurry to do so. Even so she couldn't help wondering what had made Snape clutch his arm. Not knowing ate away at her stomach and she hoped that Filch would find her room quickly so she could lay down.

*

Snape rubbed his scar, it seemed to throb slightly. Strange, he hadn't remembered it starting. Puzzled, Snape rubbed the bandage, taking it off would tear the newly healed wound. He had only done it once, Madame Pomfrey had fixed it but... Hooch had blasted him for it. He was sure if she ever found him like that again, she would finish the job. They couldn't see the truth, he could never tell them the truth. Truth was a fickle thing. Everyone wanted to know it but most of the time it just hurt people. The truth was overrated. Snape chuckled low and course, he didn't remember how it happened but once again he fell asleep, head resting on a damp pillow.