Lost on the Border at Twilight

Lost on the border at twilight - Part One- Ave Atque Vale

While he didn't know of my involvement with the Him, he knew well of my shadowy aptitude. He gave me a grim look, which once again reminded me, that though he had been a Slytherin, though he was a mysterious and twisted soul - despite all that, it was I who had turned to the Dark Lord. No one gets pardoned for living.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

Chapter Two

Did Borcileaux simply want to starve me? Considering my grumpiness at the time, I thought it possible. Lunch had been non-existent. Once again, we had been unable to stop the experiment for food. My only consolation was that, unlike breakfast, the Potions Master had been forced to suffer too - self-inflicted in his case.

And as for now, I wanted to head straight to this banquet he had organised - despite my so-called punishment for missing breakfast, which was to be seated next to "a difficult old man". But, no. After a day of potions making, I was not "fit to be seen". I told Borcileaux it would make little difference, but he maintained that as I would probably be the only apprentice he ever took, I must be presentable.

That in mind, I found myself trudging down the final stairs to my quarters. Looking down at my work robes, I found myself admitting that Jean was right - not that I ever dreamed of telling him that. Covered in something brown and squishy not fit to be named, and smelling of something far worse, I was quite the sight. Heading over to the mirror that was accumulating dust on the wall, I yanked off the robes and peered at my reflection.

It had been a time since I had previously, and even I grimaced at the image. No doubt from scanty meals and a complete lack of at times, my ribs were beginning to show even through my robes, and without them... I puffed out my pale chest as far as I could, and still they showed as rows of bony angles. I thanked Slytherin that it wasn't an enchanted mirror, and tugged off the slacks I had been wearing under the robes.

My legs were no better, I decided, my knees the broadest part. I had never been that well built to begin with, but notwithstanding, I was quite the skeletal one now. Gladly, I slipped on a rather Victorian styled dress-shirt and pants, pausing as my fingers brushed the serpentine brand on my left arm. Glancing at my collection of dress robes - black, black, black, or...black! - I chose a classy set with a silver sash.

With a swift motion, I fastened the sash, and glanced again in the mirror. There. Even Borcileaux would have nothing to complain of. I made a rather severe figure, my ebony eyes gleaming from above gaunt cheekbones. Father would have been proud, I decided. A quick charm from my wand loosed my hair, and cleansed it rapidly till it draped like a frame around my face. Perfect. Whoever this elderly man was would be in for a shock. So be it.

No matter what I was expecting, my stomach was eager, and I ascended the flights of stairs in a dash. Slowing as I approached the entrance to the banquet hall, my eyes adjusted to the light, and I caught sight of Borcileaux waiting for me. He too had evidently benefited from a speedy change of dress, from his own spoiled work clothes to a set of velvet forest green robes. Nice, I thought to myself. If I ever dressed in other than black, I'd want some like that. As for Jean himself, he was looking over my attire with an approving eye.

"Well, Severus, you do scrub up nice. I must invite guests on a more regular basis." I scowled visibly, just about daring him to do so. He chuckled quietly. "Come, come. We must go in. I was waiting for you, and the guests for me. It is not proper for an apprentice to not be following forth with behind his master. Eh, Sev?" There he went again, falling back onto formalities. I merely nodded, then followed him through the wooden doors swiftly opened by a house-elf who scampered out of sight.

Guests? When I had heard the news that morning, I had expected only a small gathering. I should have known. Several dozen were seated at the lengthy table. Borcileaux, fulfilling courtesy, walked the length of the table on both sides, greeting all and sundry of his assembly. Striding a pace or two behind him, I barely nodded to each in turn - but no more was expected of me. They must have known I was the mystery apprentice they had heard of, but I surmise that other than that I was little to them of importance.

Despite that, I knew I was to be seated near the head of the table. As his apprentice I always would be. Seated with the more notable visitors.

I felt myself brimming with scorn to the others that had so quickly dismissed me. But scorn quickly turned to shock, shock to anger, and anger to dejection. As we came closer to the head of the table, my sharp eyesight spied out the two empty seats waiting. One, at the head of the table, clearly for the Potions Master. The other... Difficult old man. Ha. That's not half of it. The other was about four seats down from the head, between Mr. Black - Bellatrix's uncle, and Sirius' father - and a certain headmaster. The difficult old man. Albus Dumbledore.

As I drew near, he was in chatting quietly to Cornelius Fudge, then a ministry wizard of rank. Their conversation stopped as Borcileaux came between them, first greeting Fudge, and then turning to Dumbledore.

"Albus, old man. I'm glad you could make it." I didn't know much of the rapport between Jean and Dumbledore, but I gathered it went back quite a while. I hung in the Potions Master's shadow, but of course, inevitably, it happened. Dumbledore had yet to see me, and replied that it was his pleasure, but...

"Albus, have you had the pleasure of meeting my apprentice? I'm sure you must have, he's just out of Hogwarts." And with that a gnarled hand drew me forcibly forwards, and with a somewhat lowered face I murmured my greetings. I glanced up in time to enjoy the moment of shock and astonishment on the old man's face. It quickly transformed to amusement.

"I believe I have, Jean - though I had no idea... Severus, it is unlike you to be so timid... I had no idea you had changed your mind." Turning to the master, he added, "But then, I was surprised enough when you changed your mind and took an apprentice in the first place."

I gave Borcileaux a last pleading look, but either he missed it - and I knew better than that - or he, much more likely, chose to ignore it. And there I was thinking I had gotten off lightly for my tardiness that morning. He replied with a smirk.

"Ah, well, that shows you that even the wisest of us must sometimes eat our words." Jean said, obviously quoting. "We get on quite well, I think, don't we, young Severus?"

Another smirk. "But I believe the -house-elves- have placed the young Snape next to you, Albus, so he should be in a better position to inform you of that. "

I said nothing, and made no shift to take the vacant seat, but a less than subtle prod from the Potions Master made me falter, and I quickly sat, my eyes focused on anything but the old man beside me. I listened as Jean and Albus exchanged a few last words before Borcileaux moved on towards his own seat.

Delaying the inevitable, I turned to say something to Brutus Black. I knew him slightly - he was Bellatrix's uncle, and I had seen him a few times at her manor. Brutus was also the father of the damned Sirius Black, but I knew better to mention him, as he had run away, and been disowned by his family. Sirius' younger brother, though... A Slytherin who would then be in his last year in Hogwarts - a year younger than us.

"Sir, if I may ask, how is Regulus?" Brutus turned his disfigured face towards me, and if I had not previously seen it, I might have started.

"Severus, my boy. Regulus is doing fine, he tells me, though missing the leadership of a certain set of Slytherins, hmm?"

I struggled to keep the conversation going. I knew better than to mention his brother Alphard - another unpopular relative - but his sister...

"How is your sister? And her daughters?"

The older man smirked. "I know who you really want to hear about. My sister is fine, of course. As is Narcissa. But Bellatrix in particular sends her regards. She seemed to suspect I might see you here."

I flushed at that. Not many did know of my apprenticeship, but I had of course kept my closest friends informed. I wondered about his less than subtle omission of his third niece, Andromeda. She had always seemed a nice enough, if frail girl - a Ravenclaw, a few years older than Bellatrix.

I asked Brutus about it, but regretted it immediately as I saw his face darken.

"Have you not heard? It was in the prophet - everyone was talking of it. It is a disgrace."

I still knew not what he was talking about, but after a pause, he added, "If you do not know, let me tell you now. Andromeda," he spat out the name as a curse, "she is no longer my niece. I do not acknowledge her. She married a Muggle by the name of Tonks. A Muggle, Severus, a Muggle! It is a shame and dishonour on the entire family."

I gave my condolences, but then regretfully turned to my other side where Albus was clearly trying to talk to me.

"Do you mean that?" he said, in a low voice. "Sympathy? Because Miss Black wedded a Muggle? Surely you do not believe in such prejudice, Severus. And you so young!" The transfiguration teacher gave me a look of reprove.

Feeling a bit like a first year having to explain his actions, I replied - quietly, so as not to be heard by my other neighbour.

"Of course not," I lied. "I am merely sorry that a family I am close to is feeling pain."

The fool that I thought him then took my words at face value. "Of course, I understand. You are still close to Bellatrix Black?"

That got a genuine smile out of me - disbelieve me you may, but my friends brought out a more human side to me.

"Yes, B.B is one of the few I am in contact with. I do hope this will not cause any quandary for her own upcoming match." Seeing the questioning look on Albus' face, I elaborated - cursing myself as I did for letting myself so easily be led into being so candid.

"Bellatrix and Anthony - Anthony Lestrange, another in our year and house - are betrothed. They are to marry on Samhain this year. It is an arranged alliance, but there is great feelings and attachment on both sides."

Realising how much I had given away, I hoped fervently that it would not get back to either Bellatrix or Anthony - neither of which would be at all pleased with my so open discussion of there relationship. I shuttered up, allowing the smile that had played with my mouth to fade into my usual blank façade - a pretence, a masquerade of control.

But Albus Dumbledore would not be swayed into silence. For the next five minutes or so I was quizzed on my opinions about prejudices, attitudes, and the like. I gave non-committal answers - only really listening when something came up about latest events - and tried to leave the conversation politely. It did not work. Finally, a question I did not have the answer for. He paused, and for a moment I thought I'd escaped. But no.

"Severus, why did you tell me that you had no intention of taking up the apprenticeship?"

In the tense moments that followed, just as I was feeling about to confess all my sins - I had no easy answer to the question - it became instantaneously clear. Lord Slytherin was on my side. Or at least, Lady Luck was. Brutus tapped me on my shoulder, and I turned to see that it was not Black that wanted to talk to me, but Borcileaux. He beckoned me towards him, and with a feeling of extreme relief, I excused myself from Albus Dumbledore, and left him to hopefully forget his question.

I leant towards Borcileaux from behind his chair.

"You summoned me, Master?" Jean was sitting next to a shadowy wizard, whom I later found out was the head of the Unspeakables. I waited to be introduced, but in hindsight, I suppose it was an unlikely thing. In any case, his identity remained a mystery.

"Ah, yes. Severus. I want you to go fetch that potion we brewed - the one you came up with the improvements for..." Veritaserum? Borcileaux wanted Veritaserum here?

"It is in the labs, sir. I don't know where you keep the key..." I answered softly, my meaning clear. How was I to enter? That fourth spell... He beckoned me even closer, then closer again, closer still, until I could feel his warm breath on my neck and ear.

"Imperius," he whispered. "You know when to use it."

I jumped back, shocked. Who was this man that he used an unforgivable as part of an entrance code? I met Borcileaux's gaze, and I knew that now of all times I could ask no questions.

I saw his neighbour's dark eyes watching us intently, me in particular, but still I hesitated. I was the one taking orders from the Dark Lord. I had thought I knew Borcileaux, better than any other did. And all this time he knew the usage of Dark Arts?!? A thought crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. I knew that he was no servant of Voldemort. I knew that He was grooming me to be His own personal Potions Master - the real reason he had been so insistent I take the apprenticeship.

Jean's eyes narrowed warningly, and I swiftly nodded, and strode towards the exit, making sure Albus Dumbledore glimpsed me leaving. Half of my mind was busy thanking the Potions Master for getting me out of a difficult question - but the other... I thought myself an excellent judge of character - but in Jean I clearly had made a mistake. I realised I knew nothing of my master's past. True, he knew equally little of mine - but he knew about my interest in my Shadow Magics.

But I was completely astounded by this revelation. Had he ever served Voldemort? Maybe they had known each other before His dark rise? Or had Borcileaux been a Dark Master in his own rights? Had he ever been an Auror? He was aged enough to be retired, I supposed.

At that time, it did not occur to me, but in the hours after the comment bordering on disclosure, I found myself speculating as to whether he might have served under Grindelwald. That was later confirmed to me, but for the night of the banquet I was perplexed to say the least.

Whatever my thoughts, I hastened my pace towards the upper levels of the manor. For months I had tried to discern the nature of the fourth spell of the sequence to no avail. And here it was handed to me on a platter of mystery. Most likely, though, in the upcoming days it would be changed, I reflected. Perhaps, though unlikely, it could have been a sign of Borcileaux's growing trust for I, his apprentice. Doubtful. He knew he couldn't leave his guests, and so I was the next best thing.

I paused when I reached the wall that hid the entrance. Surprisingly enough, I was still extremely able-bodied. At Hogwarts, while not being on my house Quidditch team, I had participated in regular pretend games within my house - not to mention broom races with Anthony and Lucius - B.B was terrified of heights. Anthony was the faster and better flyer - and had been on the team since third year. But between the four of us - myself, Lucius, Anthony and Bellatrix - we also had regular running races. And in that the winner alternated between Bellatrix and myself. But one might expect, that months out of routine, days spent relatively motionless - not to mention multitudes of missed meals - that my fitness would have decreased. Perhaps it had, but not noticeably. At least it enabled me to make rapid dashes all over the manor - up or down so many flights of stairs.

Now, for this entry code. I noted that he had thought me Slytherin enough to work out the first three spells in the sequence. I brought to my mind my first memory of him opening the entrance. I had been nervous - my first morning in the manor. But not nervous enough to try and identify the spells.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

I stood nervously behind the Jean Borcileaux as we stopped, apparently reaching our final destination. I could see no entrance, but I waited, expecting the Potions Master to utter a password - I jumped slightly as the older man drew his wand. He glanced at me, but told me nothing.

Turning back to the wall, his wand mazed a symbol of red sparks onto the wall. An Omega, I realised abruptly. But the wall made no sign of letting us through. I watched Borcileaux again, as he shot out another spell - I did not recognise it then, but I saw how in the brief moments before it dissipated it formed briefly the shape of a dove.

Inwardly I laughed - what was the purpose of such a spell? Once again the wall made no movement. A third spell, and my sharp ears could clearly hear the mellow sound of a trumpet. I recognised it from my classes in Transfiguration - reasonably advanced, to transfigure sound.

But then there was a fourth spell. It sent a tingle down my spine - but I could not name it. It sent a vein of unseen energy to the wall. At last...

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

And now for the first time ever to open the wall by myself. Was it a test? I confess that my overly suspicious mind judged that it was. I glanced behind me, but I was alone. Raising my wand, I endeavoured to mimic the movements I had seen time and again. Drawing the shape several times first in preparation in my mind, I began the first spell.

My omega sign was not the smooth symbol of complexity that Borcileaux's practiced mark was, but it seemed to do - red sparks lingering in the air, before fading into nothingness. Next.

It was a Patronus, I knew. I had never had need to produce my own, but I knew about the spell in theory.

Expecto Patronum, and a happy memory. I thought back, further and further until I found what I was looking for. It would have to be before Hogwarts, I confirmed despondently. A truly joyful recollection.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

"There's a letter for you, Sevi."

I felt her soft touch on my arm, and I turned my face to hers. Five years older than me, my sister was the mother I never knew. I smiled, a genuine expression of delight and surprise.

"For me?" My face fell. "Probably just from Lucius... Lucia, darling..." I mocked sourly. "Why can't I have an Owl like his? Why does he get everything?"

But my resentment didn't dampen my sister's disposition at all.

"No, dear, it's not from the Malfoys at all. Though I dare say Father will get you an Owl." Ebony beamed an unusually bright and untempered smile. "It's your Hogwarts letter, Sevi! You'll be going to Hogwarts with me in September. Isn't this brilliant? I'll get to show you around, be your mentor - oh, you're going to love it." Her face showed nothing less than unrestrained bliss.

A different voice started me, but it was fonder than I ever remembered. Father's.

"My son, I am truly proud to have you as my heir. You will go out into the world, and show them what a Snape can become. I will help you; Ebony will help you - Salazar Slytherin and all his house will help you. This I promise on your mother's name."

And in that moment, I swore to myself, and to whoever was listening. I would make my father proud. I would make my sister proud. Salazar Slytherin, him and all associated with his name. They would be satisfied. I would be all that a Snape could be. On my own name.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

With that memory firmly in my mind, a rush of glowing seemingly formless energy surged from my wand. I held it, and tried to identify the shape it took. For a moment, I could not. But in an instant, I knew. I could have laughed at its appropriateness. But I never laughed these days.

Two spells down, and the third too was easy enough. But the fourth... A spell I had been both dreading, and anticipating. I knew I could do the spell. How ironic that the mystery curse was one I knew so well. Not my specialty; of the four of us, it was Lucius who most revelled in its subtle powers of command. Not I, for I could still not come to terms with the lack of dignity and respect, the lack of honour that came with it. In spite of that, however, I could wield all the unforgivables with a skill that surpassed all the rest.

But for now... There was no moral or ethical reason I could fashion to object its usage on the wall - not that I was particularly prone to bouts of morality, not at that time. But I wasn't happy. I guess I was disturbed that Borcileaux used it as part of a security sequence. I had thought I had known the Potions Master. But this... This proved that thought wrong.

Abruptly wondering if there was a time issue with the sequence, I raised my wand and performed the curse. I had never attempted Imperius without a intention before - I mean, it was one thing to make someone do something, but to utter the curse without something to control, a purpose to focus on... In theory the curse should work anyway, but I was apprehensive, nonetheless.

I felt the energy flow effortlessly from my wand. Imperius is an unseen curse, so I was not surprised when I saw nothing. Yet for a few moments, I wondered where I had gone wrong. Had I interpreted Borcileaux's whisper wrong? Had I left too much time between the spells? Did it matter that my Patronus had taken a different form to Jean's?

Fortunately, very fortunately, at that exact moment, my sensitive aura picked up the loose flow of energy which alerted me to my success. With Borcileaux, neither of us waited for it. I wondered if he had ever failed. In a manner not unsimilar to entering Platform 9 ¾, I ducked my head, and walked into the wall. Ducking my head was more important than it looked. See, I was always taller than Borcileaux and all his ancestors. And while I'm not sure which Borcileaux had created the entrance, I am certain he was about a head shorter than me. The first time I had followed the Potions Master through the entrance, I was determined to make a good start. Asking no questions, I had simply pretended to know what I was doing. Oh, the humiliation that followed that. Not to mention the bruises.

But that was in the past, and stepping inside, and glancing around the empty lab, I felt completely tranquil. Alone for the first time ever in even this the main lab, I knew surer than ever. I would be a Potions Master, if Hell stood in the way. Of course, though, some would say it already did.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

Despite the urge to use the liberty offered to search the labs unsupervised, I perceived that whether or not a test, I would not have or at least feel the same freedom ever again if I did. And so, a short quarter of an hour hence, I was striding back into the small of the dining halls where the Master's banquet was being held. It had taken me a time to bottle the potion - I had left it carelessly to sit on a bench to return to in my free time, but such luxury was a scarcity at Borcileaux Manor, but I clutched now a stoppered serpentine crystal flask. No house-elf to open the door for me alone, I noted, and cast a simple charm to open the doors. Not that I lacked the strength needed, but heaving the doors open lacked a certain dignity.

In my younger days, I had envied Lucius' soundless gait - which from a childhood in a friendless manor had become as natural to him as breathing - but what started as mimicry became a masterpiece. I mastered his subtlety, then added my own touches of irony and satire, 'till I had a threatening but elegant stride. And it was taking such steps that I was able to approach Borcileaux without his noticing.

I noted that they were just finishing their first course, a grim satisfaction that maybe my theory that Jean was starving me had more evidence than previously. I consoled myself that at such a gathering, as this, there would be sufficient courses still to load even the emptiest of stomachs. But before I could gorge, business.

Jean's face was tinged with anxiety, which substituted to relief as he turned to face me. This didn't go unnoticed by his mysterious neighbour who gave a sneer to rival my own on a bad day.

Curiosity ablaze, I burned to ask what the Potion was destined for. After all, I had helped brew his latest batch, did I not have a right? And more so, for the particular potion I was about to hand over to whatever fate was one of my own work. A new success in the world of Potions - my first discovery to my name, though of course much of the credit would go to Borcileaux, as my mentor, master and director. A potion which did not need the passing of time or the application of an antidote to finish its effects. A potion, which effects could be ceased with a spell, with a wave of a wand. A revolutionary breakthrough.

"Severus," the Potions Master greeted. "I hope you didn't have any trouble?" In other words, as I interpreted gloomily, what by -Merlin- took you so long?

It was all I could do to forbid the smirk that threatened to celebrate at his discomfort. Outwardly, though, my face was that of a dutiful apprentice and servant. I nodded my head in respect, placed the flask by his goblet, and said, with a touch of sarcasm that only a Slytherin would pick up on,

"Oh, no, sir. I just had to bottle it, and you know how important it is to take precautions when bottling a potion."

My face was outwardly innocent, but my words mocked me. Only days ago, Borcileaux had caught me being careless with a potion that could have ruined my hands for good had even the smallest amount come into contact with it. A chastisement to rival what I dish out now to my students, and a bleak realisation what had almost happened - anything less than perfect hand control and a potions career was out of the question - and I finally had the self-assurance? Confidence? Reserve? To make a small joke out of it.

Intention fulfilled, Borcileaux was back at ease.

"Get on with you," he said, and sent me back to my seat with a word of thanks. With growing doubt I headed back to my seat, just as the next course was being brought around. Any hope that Albus would have forgotten his last question in the course of my disappearance disappeared - I felt his unchanging gaze on me as I approached, and he barely wasted a moment when I was seated.

"Sevi, you never-" I interrupted him ruthlessly.

"That is a name that no one uses anymore. No one has in a long time. I would ask that you accord with that."

I saw surprise bordering on hurt in Dumbledore's eyes, but he did not reproach me. My sister had called me that. For a while Bellatrix had followed her example, and indeed, for a while as had Evans. But no one did anymore. Not since it happened.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

One Yule, almost in proof that the Snape family could hold to whatever the other Slytherin bloodlines could, my father had hosted a gathering unprecedented. Mostly grown mages, but all the Slytherin house were invited with their family. I was in my seventh year, proud, and invulnerable. Lucius and I sat behind the greenhouses, denying feelings that should never have been felt.

In a show of daring he challenged me to an Unforgivable. And in a show of bravado, I complied. My sister came around the side of the buildings to find us, just in time to see me aim my wand and let fly. Ebony had always loved birds. It was unnecessary. It was the first time I had let anyone see me kill. The first kill without a scholarly purpose. She never forgave me. Not just for the bird, but for what I had become.

The next day, she left. She was long out of school - but I know why she stayed as long as I did. She stayed because of me. And then she left because of me. I returned to school. Within the week, it happened. A troupe of traitor wizards who resented what the Snape family represented raided our manor. They killed my father, all the servants and anyone fated to be at the manor at the time. Not even for that did Ebony come back. It was left to me, not quite seventeen, to prepare my father's body for the afterlife and more immediately, the funeral. After all, there's nothing more upsetting at a funeral than a badly dressed corpse. I never forgave her for not being there.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

Albus watched me intently as the painful memory relived in my mind, but had not the sympathy, nor the tact, to stay silent.

"Severus, then." Albus paused, but had not finished. "You never answered as to why you lied to me."