Fade to Black

Chapter I: Darkness

Severus Snape sat in his office, a dark, gloomy room in the corner of the dungeons (it suited him perfectly) and graded papers for the third years. His hair fell across his face but he ignored the veil of thin strands as he combed through the pile of inane ideas and poorly written paragraphs.

...Dorian Williams made many potions. He was a English guy and invented many potions but he's most well known for the invention of the Translinguae potion. It makes a person able to understand a language for as long as it the potion lasts...

Snape wielded his quill with ferocity, striking the scroll with crimson ink. The paper was obviously ill researched or the student would have known that the Translinguae potion was the only potion invented by Williams. And that was just the beginning. Spelling errors galore, awkward writing, vague facts, and overall terrible presentation, all were present in abundance. Snape gave it a score that was well below passing, and set it in the pile of graded, and generally horrible, papers.

Severus had only been teaching for a few months now; he was the newest, and by far the youngest of the Hogwarts staff and still felt out of place and insecure as a colleague of respected professors who had taught him when he first arrived at the school. He was hardly much older than many of the seventh years, who at first seemed to think that his youth meant that they could get away with bending the rules in his class. Within the first week, Snape shattered that belief. He wanted to prove to them that he was their Professor, not "one of the chums". He succeeded admirably. Two months into his first year of teaching and he already had acquired a reputation for running a no-nonsense class. And if the students didn't like him, called him foul names under their breath when they thought he wasn't listening...well, he was paid to educate them, not to be their friend.

Severus scratched a grade on another pathetic paper and set the quill down to stretch fingers that had become stiff after an hour of marking. His right hand had always been a bit sore since he had received that glancing blow from an Auror's curse. The pen dripped ink on the page, making it look as if it were spattered with blood. Snape grimaced at the mess and lifted the pen with his left hand. He had always been a bit ambidextrous, so it had been fairly simple to train himself to use his left hand just as well as the right- a skill that saved his life when his right wrist was too clumsy with pain to perform the intricate counter-curse for a deadly hex once thrown his way.

Sighing and running a hand through his lank hair he prepared to tackle the scrolls again, but the old clock hanging on the wall chimed, signaling that supper in the great hall would soon begin. Severus was sorely tempted to remain in his dark hole in the Hogwarts dungeon, free from the spiteful whispers and snickers of students and the wary glances of the professors who acted as if they expected him to show his black Death Eater colours at any moment. But Headmaster Dumbledore- Albus, Snape thought, I'm not a student anymore. I can call him Albus now- had told him that he was too withdrawn and had asked him to try to socialize with his colleagues more. He said it as the only way to earn their trust. Snape personally thought that he would never earn their trust, nor did he deserve it, but he couldn't disappoint Albus. Not after everything the old wizard had done for him. With another sigh, Severus stood and rubbed his sore hand as he reluctantly left his dark sanctuary and ventured towards the great hall.

The hall was decked out for the Halloween feast with bats circling about the ceiling and huge jack-o'-lanterns, grown and carved by Hagrid, grinning about the room. It was impressive...to a first year. Severus had already endured seven years worth of Halloween feasts during his time as a student and not much had changed since he had first walked into the bat and pumpkin festooned room when he was eleven. He ignored all the festive trappings and stalked to his seat at the high table. Students trickled in, chatting carelessly with friends and expressing delight at the special decorations for the day. Snape watched with cold black eyes as each group wandered to their respective table. Most of the students avoided his dark gaze and walked just a little bit faster to get to their seats and away from Snape's eyes. Some were brave enough to whisper something (certainly unflattering) to friends causing a fit of nervous titters and giggles. Only one, a Hufflepuff surprisingly, a fifth year named John Price, was daring enough to meet Snape glare for glare, even if it was only for a moment, before Price lowed his eyes back to the floor in seeming defeat.

A few minutes later, Headmaster Dumbledore entered and took his usual seat next to Snape. His eyes were as bright as ever as he smiled over the cavorting students like a benevolent father.

"Severus!" he exclaimed jubilantly, "I glad you came. You been hiding yourself away down in the dark for too long." Dumbledore's blue eyes seemed to peer into Severus' soul, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into his dark dungeon and avoid that all-knowing gaze. But Dumbledore was determined to drag him into the light and laughter of the hall, and so, for Dumbledore, he remained. Severus sighed, and pulled his robes closer around him like a blanket of shadow, separating himself from the outside as if shielding his black thoughts under black folds of fabric.

* * *

"I can't believe he assigned us a four foot scroll on Halloween!" Olivia Whitney whined from her seat in the middle of the Hufflepuff table, her round and rosy face taut with displeasure.

"Well, I'm not doing it," Ian Maughan, who sat across from her, said.

Olivia's pout opened into a gasp of surprise. "But you'll get in trouble! Snape'll-"

"Bugger Snape! I'm not going to spend Halloween doing homework."

Olivia eyes grew wide with shock at Ian's language, but she giggled nevertheless. "Oh, Ian, you're going to lose us house points," she scolded him lightly.

"So? We aren't going to win the cup anyway. Hufflepuff never does. So, if we're going to lose, I'm going make the most of it." Hazel eyes sparkled mischievously. "How many points do you think I can lose if I throw the Itching Potion on the Ravenclaws next lesson?"

"Ian!" Olivia shrieked with a shocked smile. "Don't you dare! You'll get detention for sure?"

"So, what's the worst he can do? Make me pickle frog eyes?"

"Scrub the tables with your sleeve," one student suggested.

"Make you clean out ingredient jars with your hands. Yuck!" another called out.

"I've heard that Snape can do worse than that. I've heard that he knows the Unforgivables, that he's used them on people before," John Price, a quiet fifth year spoke out. John rarely joined in the gossip, and his sudden interest in conversation was greeted with some surprise.

"Snape may be sadistic, but he wouldn't curse a student. And if he had done an Unforgivable, he'd be in Azkaban now. Don't you know anything?" Olivia retorted smugly.

"I know that there's something not right with Snape. I wouldn't put anything past him, not even murder."

The conversation went still as they all looked at John Price. He was a little strange, so the other Hufflepuffs usually shunned him, but gregarious Ian Maughan had befriended the lonely boy two years back, attempting to draw him into the fold. It didn't always work. There was a pause as the Hufflepuff group stared at him with varying expressions of disdain. Olivia was the first to break the silence.

"Don't be stupid! He may be an evil, slimy git, but he's a teacher. Teachers don't kill students."

"He's not a teacher!" John insisted.

"Well he sure as hell isn't the school counselor," Ian Maughan retorted in light sarcasm.

"He's a Death Eater, I'm sure of it! If anyone's a follower of You-Know-Who, it's Snape."

At the very mention of the Dark Lord and his followers, the table fell into a state of frightened silence. Some even looked over their shoulders nervously while others trembled as they tried to conceal feelings of horror and grief. Only one year had passed since Voldemort's defeat by infant wizard Harry Potter, and the experiences of that dark time were still too close. As usual, Olivia was the first to recover and her fear quickly shifted to vexation.

She snorted indelicately in derision at Price. "Dumbledore wouldn't hire a Death Eater as a professor. That's just dumb. You know what I think?" Olivia continued with her typical tactlessness, "I think that you just act weird to get attention. I think you can't handle the fact that your parents were killed by Death Eaters so you make up these paranoid stories so that people will listen to you."

"That's not true!" John shouted, but Olivia talked right over him.

"Well you know what? I think you're pathetic," Olivia spat. "Lots of us lost family but you don't see us going and acting like freaks, do you?"

"Take that back!" John yelled.

"Freak!"

"Take it back!" John Price drew his wand just as Professor Sprout, hearing the escalating argument, arrived at the table with her own wand out and ready to prevent any trouble."

"Mister Price, Miss Whitney, what is going on here?" Professor Spout asked with a solemn expression on her normally cheerful face.

"He called a professor a Death Eater!"

"Mister Price, is this true?"

"Professor Sprout," John stuttered, "I-"

"You did! We all heard it!"

"Miss Whitney," Sprout said sternly. "Don't interrupt."

"I did," John muttered. "I said Snape was a Death Eater." He met Professor Sprout's eyes and continued boldly. "And I'd say it again because he really is one."

Professor Sprout's expression became grim. "Mister Price, please come with me."

Sprout had a quick word with the Headmaster, and before long, John Price was trailing behind the old wizard towards the Headmaster's office. By Sprout's face, John had known he was in trouble and expected detention, but he didn't think he'd be in this much trouble. Sprout had interrupted Headmaster Dumbledore at his meal and now John was being dragged, alone, to Dumbledore's office. He hoped he wasn't being expelled.

"Peppermint fudge," Dumbledore said to the gargoyle that stood watch. The stairs were revealed and the two ascended to the Headmaster's office. "Please, have a seat," Dumbledore said when they arrived at the top of the tower. John sat nervously on the edge of a wooden chair, keeping his eyes on his shoes and twisting his robe in his hands with anxiety.

"Professor Sprout tells me that you believe Professor Snape is a Death Eater." John remained silent so Dumbledore continued. "These last few years have been hard on all of us, and we've lived so long in fear that sometimes it's hard to let go." Albus Dumbledore sighed pensively. "I can not erase all your fears with a few words, but I can say this: I would not endanger my students and I would not hire a man that I didn't trust. I trust Professor Snape. And I can assure you, his loyalties do not lie with Voldemort."

John shivered as the Headmaster said the dreaded name, but he still did not speak.

"Now, John, I don't want to hear any more rumors about your Professors."

"Yes, sir," John replied quietly.

"And remember, what's past is gone. Don't let yourself be trapped back in those awful times."

"Yes, sir."

There was a long, stretched silence. "Is there anything else you need to talk about?"

"No, sir."

Dumbledore sighed again. "You may go now."

John Price rose, and wordlessly left.

* * *

Snape stalked down the hallways of Hogwarts, his black robes flowing behind him like a devil's wings, descending into his dungeon for the first class of the day, fifth year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Dumbledore had spoken to him earlier that morning in the privacy of the Headmaster's office, telling him he was perhaps a "bit too intimidating" for some of the students. The Headmaster asked him if he might perhaps try to be a tad more approachable, maybe wear a colour other than black. Severus had refused.

"But, Severus, why?" Dumbledore asked. "Your days as a Death Eater are long over. Why still wear those black robes?"

"Why do you wear a beard?" Snape countered.

"I suppose because it's become a part of me."

"Just so, black is a part of me," Severus replied. He turned to the door, wordlessly saying that the discussion was over. "Good-day, Albus."

Snape was quiet throughout breakfast and avoided all of Albus' attempts at conversation. He left the hall at the earliest possible opportunity, detouring to his room to collect the papers he had graded the night before.

As he neared the classroom, he heard the shouts and yelling of a class in chaos. His eyes narrowed in anger as he quickened his pace to bring some order to the class before they tore the room apart or blew something up.

He burst through the threshold and shouted, "What is the meaning of this misconduct!" Not a single student was in his or her chair. Some sat blubbering on the ground while others yelled and argued with gestures made vehement with agitation. One Ravenclaw girl just stood without a sound, staring with wide, almost lifeless eyes at the wall in front of the room. Severus followed the girl's gaze.

Black and Green. A symbol he knew all to well and had hoped never to see again. A death's-head, a skull, painted across the wall. From its mouth, like a slithering tongue, a serpent wound it's way over the stones.

From floor to ceiling, the Dark Mark stretched across his classroom wall.