Severus: A Portrait of the Potions Master as a Young Man

A Portrait of the Potions Master as a Young Man

By Daphne Dunham

Chapter 14: When Silence Speaks

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"Do you like it?" Jane asked as she ushered him into the small room, a proud grin on her face.

Pink. Everything was pink. The walls, the furniture, the blankets - even the little socks and sweaters Jane stayed up late into the night knitting. There were various shades of it, of course - pastels and mauves residing side-by-side in stripes and floral prints, cottons and satins. In the end, however, it was all essentially the same, all essentially pink. Jane had succeeded in converting their spare bedroom into a perfectly revolting rosy-hued nightmare. Severus didn't know whether to be ill or to rejoice at the sight of it, and so he compromised by wrinkling his brow in noncommittal pensiveness instead.

"You do realise that all this work will have been for naught if it's a boy, don't you?" was all he said in response.

Since Evan Rosier's death, Severus' attitude towards fatherhood had made marked improvement, but much to Jane's disappointment, he still referred to the baby as an inanimate object. Her face fell slightly, although she tried to conceal it by pretending to straighten the curtains.

"It's not going to be a boy," she informed him matter-of-factly. "It's a girl, Severus. I know it is."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked. He opened the top drawer of the nearby bureau to find an impeccably folded afghan inside. The blanket was embroidered with tiny bunnies which, he noted tacitly and with much amusement, bore salmon-colored bows around their necklines.

Jane looked up at him and shrugged. "Just a feeling I've had," she said as she rested her hands affectionately on the small swell of her abdomen. "Sometimes you just know."

Severus looked dubious. "Aren't you a bit sophisticated to be believing in superstition? I was under the impression that I had married a woman of science, not one of tea leaves."

Despite his exasperation, there was a playful glimmer in his black eyes, and Jane smiled. "My cousin Molly swears it's true," she told him. "She told me she knew with each of her sons - even the twins. She's due again in August, you know, and she insists that this time it's a girl. She says it's different than with the boys."

It sounded like rubbish to him. Nonetheless, Severus didn't doubt that Molly Prewett Weasley was an expert in child rearing. She and her blood traitor husband, he thought with distinct revulsion, had single-handedly taken it upon themselves to populate the wizarding world. He would have said as much, too, but the Weasleys were technically family through marriage and he did not wish to upset Jane. Besides, Severus couldn't deny that despite the noxious pink walls and flamboyant bunny afghans, the idea of a daughter appealed to him. A girl with Jane's soft, dark curls and his deep, communicative eyes. A little witch with Jane's demeanor and his intelligence. A daughter for Jane to fuss over and for him to dote on in ways he never experienced in his own childhood. Surely, if he was forced to father a child, he would have it no other way.

"Well, if Molly Weasley says it's true, then certainly it must be so," he replied, a hint of good-natured sarcasm to his tone.

Jane clicked her tongue and shook her head with mock disapproval. "Severus Ewan Snape, must you always behave so badly?"

"No, really," he insisted derisively. "Far be it for me to question the power of feminine intuition."

Chuckling, Jane started rifling through a trunk brimming with yet more baby things - toys this time, gifts from Augustus and Madeleine Swizzle in anxious anticipation of the birth of their first grandchild. They were the usual childhood diversions - stuffed animals which sang lullabies, dancing piggy banks, and the like. By the conspicuous absence of pink-colored items, Severus determined that his in-laws at least were sensible enough not to surrender to Jane's suppositions regarding the gender of the child. For this much, he was grateful.

"You know, Jane," he said as he helped her arrange a pyramid of teddy bears in the crib, "I really wish you wouldn't do so much work around the house. You'll overexert yourself."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus," she scoffed. "I'm perfectly fine."

Despite her protestations, it seemed impossible to Severus that Jane's hectic schedule at St. Mungo's and zealous preparations for the baby could not be taking a toll on her. Indeed, he couldn't help but notice the small shadows of tiredness lurking under her eyes and an atypical pallor in her cheeks.

"I'm sure my father could spare Zoe every now and then. She's not much help, but she'd be better than nothing," Severus continued. His voice was gentle but unmistakably authoritative, and he brought his fingertips to affectionately trace the swell of her cheek as he spoke.

Grinning, Jane stood on tip-toe to brush her lips against his pale cheek. "I'll think about it," she told him softly.

Such words, Severus knew, were far from acquiescence; Jane was too strong-willed and independent to allow him to dictate to her what she should and should not do. Consequentially, he pressed the matter further. "And what about the hospital?" he continued. "Is it wise to work much longer given your... condition?"

"I happen to enjoy my work, Severus," Jane told him as she turned back to the trunk.

Severus raised an eyebrow of skepticism. "You are - not so expertly, I might add - avoiding the question."

It was clear that Severus would not, as usual, be easily placated, and so Jane tried again. "You work too much, too, Severus," she reminded him patiently. "With your long unpredictable hours, you're hardly ever home, and when you are, you're either exhausted or in a foul mood."

A spasm of guilt rippled through Severus at her words. Although Jane could scarcely guess it, his erratic schedule had little to do with his apprenticeship and much more to do with the Dark Lord's potions demands. Nonetheless, she was right. Over the years, the lying and long hours, the unspeakable things he had seen and done were increasingly difficult to conceal, and more often than not, Jane had received the brunt of his sour disposition. It hadn't been intentional, of course, just a matter of convenience: she was there, and so she suffered because he did.

"That is beside the point, Jane," he replied tersely, his shame manifesting itself in defensiveness.

Abandoning the porcelain figurines she had taken to arranging on a shelf, Jane looked up at him purposefully. "Is it?" she challenged. "How so?"

"Because I am not - Merlin forbid - pregnant." Severus sputtered the last bit hurriedly, awkwardly, a flush filling his cheeks as though it was a foreign, forbidden word.

"Actually, I find it really quite relevant," Jane disagreed. "After all, I think I should have gone mad by now in your absences if it wasn't for St. Mungo's keeping me busy."

Severus faltered. Apparently, his absences had gone neither unnoticed nor un-resented. Indeed, staring at her, he saw that behind the glimmer in Jane's eyes, there was a shroud of sadness. Severus noticed that her grin was frail, threatening to shatter at any moment, and he realised that although she spoke in the pretense of lightheartedness, there was a terrible truth to her words. He had driven her away. He had been a disappointment to her, had virtually abandoned her in his selfish quest for the power and recognition that had been denied him by the likes of his father and James Potter. It was a sobering moment for Severus: in his determination to prove himself, he had succeeded only in alienating the lone person who had ever believed he was more than what others took him for.

"So I am a neglectful husband now, am I?" Severus mused darkly, his voice soft and hoarse.

Jane sighed and placed her hand tenderly on his arm - directly above where his Dark Mark lay dormant, he noted bitterly. "I love you, Severus," she assured him.

While he appreciated her sentiment, Severus could not help but notice that Jane had cleverly evaded his questions: She had neither consented to leave St. Mungo's nor repudiated the notion that he had been inattentive. She didn't need to; her silence communicated enough.

* * *

Severus had frowned when he'd seen the note from Jane. After all, they'd just quarreled about her long hours at St. Mungo's the night before, and here she was, working late once again without any indication of when she might be home. There was a shortage of Healers in Spell Damage this time; they needed her, and she hoped he could understand. The rest of the weekend - Easter holiday, don't forget - would be theirs. She promised. Signed with much love, Jane.

Irritably, Severus had crumpled the parchment and tossed it aside, earning a sidewise glance from the owl which had carried the post and was now looking at him expectantly, begging for a scrap of food to reward his services. Severus had glared at the creature, as though it was to blame for Jane's absence. The owl, greatly affronted, held its beak high in defiance and promptly soared out the window once again.

"Cheeky little bastard," Severus had grumbled after it.

Of course, the fact that Jane was working late made it easier for Severus when that familiar throbbing started to mount in his left forearm later that evening. Without Jane there, he hadn't needed to tell yet another trite lie, and he hadn't needed to feel any pang of guilt about leaving her. Therefore, as he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and placed his mask over his face, Severus found himself oddly relieved.

Now, as Severus Snape walked through the crowded London street, he felt anything but relief. It was a raid tonight - the Boneses - and the Dark Lord had called out his ranks en masse. Edgar Bones was, after all, the worst sort of blood traitor scum there was, the kind who wielded his wizarding know-how and reputation to work against the Death Eaters. As a result, it wasn't merely enough to kill him and his family; the Death Eaters had been instructed to make an example of the Boneses, a public display of the Dark Lord's wrath. It hadn't taken long before matters worsened, and the Boneses' mangled bodied and the Dark Mark hovering over their home was no longer enough to satisfy the Dark Lord's sense of vengeance. Soon, death and disorder lead to yet more death and disorder as the Death Eaters expanded the radius of their violence. They had taken to dragging Muggles from their homes, plucking them from their automobiles, and harassing them in the streets, torturing and killing them.

Through the shadows of night and their hoods and masks, it was difficult to discern the identities of the Death Eaters who had started these riots, but it was more than evident that it was a bloody night in Hammersmith and that the Ministry would have its share of memory modifications to perform before it had ended. The place was swarming with every overt sign of chaos possible. Hooded and masked Death Eaters flooded the streets, blasting anything and everything in sight with complete abandon. Severus had never seen so many of the Dark Lord's servants congregated at once. At one street corner, a Death Eater was setting fire to a Muggle home. Across the way, a duo of the hooded figures was smashing the windows of a black taxi. Further up the road, a group of them was torturing a Muggle family with the Cruciatus Curse.

This was only the beginning. The sky was illuminated with bursts from wands and the eerie glow of the Dark Mark overhead. The air resounded with pleas for mercy and hissed Killing Curses. Children were screaming, their mothers calling out to them and their fathers trying futilely to defend them. The bitter scent of smoke from burning buildings was carried on the breeze, so thick one could almost taste it. Both Aurors and Muggle police swarmed the streets, but they were outnumbered by Death Eaters and quickly overwhelmed in the confusion, their presence nearly useless for the time being.

And then Severus saw them: clad in lime-green robes, Healers were fussing over felled bodies, Muggle and wizard, alike. They gave aid to the wounded and Levitated away those beyond hope. Somewhere in between the Dark magic and mayhem, it occurred to Severus that Jane could easily be one of those Healers; she could be here. The Spell Damage specialists were bound to have been called out first, after all. Severus cringed to think how vulnerable she - an obviously pregnant, young woman - would be on these streets. There were physical dangers - crumbling buildings and poorly aimed incantations. Furthermore, the Death Eaters, mistaking her nonpartisan attempts to save life - Muggle or magical - might attack her. It was enough to turn Severus' blood cold to think of the number of ways they might seek to violate her. One thing became immediately apparent: this was no place for Jane to be.

With a sudden jolt of alarm, Severus started down the high street. If Jane was here, he had to find her. The streets were difficult to wade through, considering they were littered with bodies and debris and bustling people. Severus pushed past a crowd of Muggles wailing in front of their home, which was engulfed in flames, only to find the road blocked by a series of automobiles which had been turned on their sides. Severus reeled with frustration, nearly knocking over a Healer rushing past with a Levitated body.

"Jane Snape - have you seen her? Is she here?" Severus implored him, pulling him to his feet and gripping his robes anxiously.

The Healer only paled and backed away as though with fright. "Don't hurt me!" he whispered. "I don't want any trouble - I-I'm just here to help!"

Severus watch, baffled by this reaction, as the Healer promptly turned and struggled back through the throng, frantically trying to get away from him. It was only after the Healer had gone that Severus realised he had been staring at his mask and hood with obvious horror. Frustrated, the hook-nosed wizard ripped his hood from his head and shoved his mask in his pocket; that Healer may have known something of Jane, but because Severus bore the trademarks of the terror-inspiring Death Eater, he would never know. It was not the first and far from the last time that Severus Snape would regret his association with the Dark Lord.

"Fecking hell!" Severus burst with frustration, blasting an already-toppled black taxi with a wave of his wand. The action was useless but cathartic. The automobile gave a lurch, scraping against the pavement with a metallic cry, and as it skidded to a halt several more feet up the road and out of harm's way, Severus heard a new set of screams rising in its wake.

"No!" a woman was crying. "Leave him be! Please!"

Severus paused. He recognised that voice; he knew that voice. Turning sharply, Severus saw that, in the alley to his left, his fears and suspicions were confirmed. Jane, clad in her green Healers' robes, was kneeling over a clearly unconscious Muggle boy, ostensibly with the intention of healing him. Her eyes were darting wildly, panic-stricken, as a circle of Death Eaters enclosed around her. It was hard to tell in the shadows, but Severus counted four or five of the masked figures, each with their wands raised ominously.

"He's just a child!" Jane was pleading, shielding the wounded boy with her own body. "You've already killed his parents!"

"This doesn't concern you, girl," barked the tallest one, clearly the leader of the group, stepping forward.

"Please don't do this... don't hurt him," Jane begged. "He hasn't done anything to you - he's innocent!"

Watching Jane guard the boy, Severus was vaguely reminded of the way his mother had, on more than one occasion, defended him against Darius so many years ago. At once, he felt the same defenselessness and despair that he had as a child. Circe Snape had suffered for the pains she had taken to try to protect her son, and Severus was loath to allow the Death Eaters to do the same to Jane. He started forward, struggling through the crowded street, but he was too late. What transpired next happened so fast, Severus wouldn't have been able to stop it even if he'd seen it in time.

"If you don't stand with us, then you stand against us," hissed the tall Death Eater. He turned to the rather stout wizard on his left then. "Remove this Muggle-loving filth," he commanded coldly. "Apparently she needs to be taught a lesson on what happens to Muggles and those who defend them."

The stout Death Eater moved towards Jane. He seized her arm, and she shrieked as he pulled her away from the wounded boy and threw her at the feet of the leader instead. The taller wizard dragged Jane to stand up again, and, grasping her tightly, he surveyed her with great interest, his eyes glowing lasciviously through the holes in his mask.

"I could think of a few other lessons I wouldn't mind teaching her as well," he sneered, bringing a hand to greedily trace over her body. "Of course," he added, bringing his hand over the swell of her womb, "it looks like she's already learned a thing or two."

There was a chorus of cruelly amused chuckles from the other Death Eaters, and an enraged flush filled Jane's cheeks. "Don't - touch - me," she seethed as she struggled against her captor's touch.

Her resistance, while futile, proved entertaining to the Death Eater, and he laughed wickedly and only forced himself upon her with increased determination. This time, however, he lowered his mouth to hers in a sloppy, demanding kiss. Jane gasped with horror into his open mouth and, pulling away, pursed her lips to spit bitterly upon his masked face instead. At this, the Death Eater flinched, startled. Angrily, he wiped the spittle from his mask with the cuff of his robes.

"Such a common, dirty, disgusting thing to do - something worthy of a Muggle," he hissed. He raised his fist to her then and brought it swiftly across her face. Jane gasped and reeled at the blow, tumbling backwards as the Death Eater threw her to the ground. "Since you seem to be so fond of Muggles, you can die with them, too," he added.

Muttering an incantation Severus could scarcely distinguish over the roar of the chaos around him, the Death Eater raised his wand in an abrupt, slashing motion. Purple light burst forth from the tip of his wand and struck Jane squarely in the chest. Bringing a hand to clutch at her heart, Jane inhaled sharply, as though surprised. Then, with a whimper, she slumped over onto the ground, pale and motionless. The Death Eater chuckled with wicked approval of his handiwork and kicked mud in Jane's face before turning swiftly on his heel.

"Sodding Muggle-lover," he said with disdain.

It was a sentiment shared by the other Death Eaters in the group. They dispersed from the scene snarling obscenities and congratulating themselves on making a fine example of the meddlesome Healer to those who would aid Mudbloods and Muggles. By the time Severus burst through the crowd seconds later, they had blended entirely into the Dark and hooded scenery, indistinguishable against the throng of other Death Eaters and their victims.

Barely breathing, Severus heaved himself to the ground beside Jane. An involuntary sob escaped his lips at the sight of her abused form. Her robes were torn and caked with dirt, and her hair, which had once flowed in silken, raven waves was now tangled and matted. The healthy rosy hue which normally resided high in her cheeks had been replaced by a sickly grey, and she groaned, her head lolling and drooping, as he scooped her delicately into his arms.

"Jane!" he gasped, cleaning the mud from her face with his palm.

Her eyelids quivered and only just opened at the sound of his voice. She struggled to focus her gaze on him. However, if she recognised him - and he highly doubted that, in her current state of trauma, she was able to - she did not indicate such.

"Jane! Jane, look at me!" Severus pleaded with her.

Despite his entreaties, the dark brown centers of her eyes disappeared behind her fluttering eyelids once again. Desperately, Severus pressed Jane against his chest, holding her so close he could feel her increasingly shallow breaths against the crook of his neck. He entwined his fingers in hers and brought her hand to his lips, kissing it as he rocked her gently in his arms.

"Don't leave me, Jane," he implored between kisses.

He had never before considered the probability of Jane's dying, but as he watched the pallor increase in her cheeks, it became evident that such was inevitable. Confronted with this reality, Severus was haunted by their quarrel the night before, by the things Jane said and by the things she had spoken in silence - that he had neglected her, disappointed her, alienated her. There would never be a chance, Severus realised with panic, to improve or to even apologise.

"I'll be a better man," he promised urgently, as though she could hear him and that it would make a difference. It was the kind of a vow borne of a guilty conscience and prompted by utter despair. He would have committed himself to anything - regardless how vile - in those final moments if it meant a chance for Jane's survival. "I'll be there for you - I'll take care of you - I'll..."

Even as Severus spoke, though, her hand, limp and cold in his, slipped from his grasp; Jane was dead.

They say that in death, one's life passes before one's very eyes. The same, however, could be said for Severus as he watched Jane die. He saw her in stills - as though a Muggle photograph, unmoving and permanent. They were seven and testing potions on Zoe. Then they were fourteen and she was assuring him he'd receive Order of Merlin one day. One moment she was telling him that she was pregnant, and the next, she was here, dead in his arms.

It took Severus a moment to absorb the reality of the situation. Like the images, he sat still and strange. Around him the sounds of destruction continued to rage on, but they seemed suddenly insignificant now. Death Eaters had murdered his wife and unborn child. It had happened before his very eyes; he'd seen everything they'd done to Jane - the vile way they'd touched her and leered at her, how they had desecrated her body and left her for dead. Jane had been an innocent, a martyr. She hadn't provoked her killers, hadn't stood against them; all she had done was try to save life where they had taken it.

Severus shuddered. The mark served as a grim and permanent reminder that he was branded a brother of those who had so cruelly killed his wife. Severus had never been naïve; he had heard and seen the horrors his Death Eater brethren were capable of committing. Nonetheless, horror swept over him in waves at the notion that he should be bound to those capable of such heinous behaviour, that he had ever served as an advocate for Jane's eventual murderers.

Even more unbearable, Severus thought, was the notion that there had been no need for Jane to die. She should never have been here tonight; she might never have been here, in fact, if it wasn't for him. After all, as she had implied herself last night, he had long driven her away and she had sought solace in her work, the very work which killed her in the end. He was partially responsible, he realised, as his actions had contributed to the cause of her death. It was a horrible epiphany for Severus, and as he embraced Jane's lifeless body, a great wail of horror and anguish escaped his lips.

"I'm so sorry, Jane," he whispered to her corpse. "I'm so sorry."

His remorse was greeted only by silence, though, and in that silence, Severus understood that there would be no forgiveness for him - not from Jane's unmoving lips and certainly not from himself. Indeed, as Severus swept her motionless body in his arms and stood up, he knew what must be done: Death Eaters had killed his wife, and although he could never have forgiveness, he would have revenge.

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