Snape's Most Loved, and Hated, Memory

Snape's Most Loved, and Hated, Memory

If anyone were to ask any of his fellow teachers what sort of Wizard Severus Snape was all would undoubtedly say a brilliant, albeit cold, man. His students, however, would have much more to say. Hufflepuffs would add intimidating, Ravenclaws loathsome. Question a Gryffindor and the adjectives range would increase to include ruthless, unfair, grouchy, and mean, an all-around prat. Members of his House described him as crafty, sly, and devious. Tell the professor himself the results of your survey and he would agree it was an accurate description of his character. But no one would have ever believed the side he kept hidden even if they witnessed it.

Every year for one evening only the feared Potions Master left his carefully nurtured persona behind and allow emotion to overtake him. This year was no different from the previous sixteen.

After a particularly difficult day of trying to impart some measure of knowledge on two despised Gryffindor dullards and ignoring their know-it-all friend, he wearily changed out of his trademark black robes. He selected a pair of comfortable slacks and a warm sweater from his closet. Next he fixed a glass of ice over which he poured two fingers of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. He sipped on it, feeling the tension of the day ebb. He walked over to his bookshelves and found the record. He placed it on the enchanted player and coaxed it to fill the room with the melodious sounds of Otis Redding. (Some Muggle products were worth putting aside his distain for.)

The sneer on his face melted away, letting him know the drink was doing its job. Severus cast several silencing spells on the windows and doors. Double-checking that his private quarters were indeed sound and intruder proof, he watched the hourglass on the table in front of him.

At precisely 7:48 p.m. he was ready. He ducked under his bed and pulled out a battered, locked box. He carefully muttered the counter-spells and reverently lifted out a wooden Pensieve. The runes engraved on its sides were worn and could barely be read, as if stroked one too many times by caressing fingers. His face was awash with a mixture of trepidation and eagerness as he sat the bowl on the flatness of the tabletop. He contemplated it, tipping the remainder of his drink down his suddenly parched throat. He reached for his wand.

The former Death Eater prodded the silvery surface of the Pensieve's liquid memories. It swirled mysteriously as an image started to take shape. Severus leaned closer and closer until strands of his dark hair were engulfed in the shimmer, then the tip of his beaklike nose. He began his yearly journey through the memories.

He recognized Malfoy Manor and his younger self. It was his first time visiting his school chum Lucius. He watched as the sixteen year old shook Mr. Malfoy's hand and was introduced to Mrs. Malfoy and their daughter, Arianna.

The scene shifted. This time he remembered the nervousness he had felt as the boy he had been asked the only sister of his best friend out. To his everlasting surprise the girl with long honey-blonde hair and sky blue eyes had said yes.

The room spun. He and Arianna were sitting under a pale winter moon stealing precious moments together and the occasional kiss. The present day man smiled fondly.

Mists clouded his vision before unveiling the night he had received the Dark Mark along with fifteen others, Lucius and Arianna included.

The scene skipped a year ahead and Severus watched as he and the love of his life were joined in a secret ceremony. The only thing to spoil the moment was when the shadow of fear crossed the twenty year old's face. He knew The Master would be most displeased if he discovered their union. He had other plans for his trusted spy, or so he had alluded.

The past shifted once again. He saw the excitement she could barely contain as she told her husband of the most important mission Lord Voldemort was putting her in charge of. She rattled on about the plan to do away with James and a just confirmed pregnant Lily Potter. He listened as he spouted off how repugnant the idea of having a child with a Mudblood was, how James should be ashamed for sullying his Pure-Blood lineage. Bracing his true self for her reply she asked what he thought of one of his own. His memory stared at her as the implications of her question became clear. Her smile was his answer and both men beamed at their spouse.

Then came the moment he always dreaded. He never wanted to relive it but it would be a betrayal of their love to forget it. Voldemort sat glowering over his minion. She stammered and related the botched attack on the Potters. The professor and the other watched helplessly as the Master sent the green light towards her. Her face contorted in confusion and she crumpled to the floor, instantly dead, the end of all his joy and hope. The young man dared not go to her. It would only infuriate the Dark Lord more.

A minute later he was in a dark room. He wished he could offer comfort to the crying widower. He strained to hear his words of vowed revenge and pledge to help overthrow the Evil One.

Severus blinked. He was back, sitting in his dank dungeon rooms. He stood and strode to the bottle of spirits. Lifting his glass he slammed back a refilled glassful. He poured another and analyzed the evening's events.

He had fallen for Arianna the moment he'd met her. He'd managed to hide his infatuation from her brother somehow. No one had ever known they'd married but the Justice that had officiated.

He pictured her face, so full of life and mischief. It had been this combination that had caused Voldemort to take notice of her. It was rare to see one so committed to their cause who could retain her childlike innocence while wreaking havoc on the world at large.

Severus sighed heavily and wiped away the wetness blurring his sight. Thoughts of what might have been tortured him. What if she had lived? The baby would be fifteen now, only a few months younger than the boy Lily had given birth to. Why had he survived while his child and wife had not? Perhaps if he hadn't the Dark Lord would be more powerful than he currently was. The constantly failed assassination attempts had prompted Voldemort himself to try to kill the two. His plan had failed and he had become a thing more dead than alive.

Reminding himself that the past was indeed just that, Severus repacked the Pensieve and hid it for another year. The record player was abruptly stopped.

He wiped away the few remaining tears and poured a glass of pumpkin juice. He walked over to the charmed window and watched as the soft night was forced into hiding by the unforgiving sun.

Snape greeted the new day with a familiar menacing glare.