Old Flames

Title: Old Flames (1/1)
Author name: freaky_dragonlady
Author email: [email protected]
Category: Dark
Keywords: Snape Deatheaters Lucius Malfoy
Spoilers: GoF

Rating: PG
Summary: With Lord Voldemort having risen again, all the wizards of the world know that the first people to suffer will be the Deatheaters who betrayed or abandoned him. This is the account of one such ex-Deatheater, Severus Snape...

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. All references to 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' are based on the characters and situations created and owned by C.S.Lewis and his publishers.

Author's Notes: My second fic, with much better grammar than the first...

Enjoy! Especially if you're a Snape fan like me.

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Old Flames

Early morning sunlight splayed across the wooden floorboards from a small, high window as the figure in the bed stirred. The bed was a four-poster and dominated the large bedroom with ease, its dull grey duvet half falling onto the floor. The room was quiet, still and peaceful.

The man rose and sleepily staggered across the rug to the nightstand, where he caught his reflection in the large mirror that sat upon it. He flinched at what he saw. Thin face, bony cheekbones, lank hair and pale, pale skin within the depths of which gaunt eyes stared out.

My God, Severus, he thought, you look worse than usual, if that's possible. What have you become?

He rubbed his face roughly, trying to rid himself of sleepiness, and wandered through into the small bathroom to take a cold shower.

Passing the mirror again on his way from the bathroom some ten minutes later, he shrugged at the skinny man he saw.

And you think you've got problems, he commented sarcastically.

Severus dried himself off and threw on his robes - black, as usual.

He raked a brush through his still half-wet hair and carefully picked up his wand, absentmindedly cleaning it on his sleeve whilst he pondered the day's lessons.

7^th year Hufflepuffs, then 5^th year Gryffindors - watch out for Longbottom, remember to get a spare cauldron ready. MUST write a letter home today to Cam.... I think she's been worried about that Voldemort scare. He raised a delicate eyebrow skeptically. Even though it's been a fair few months and no one's heard a thing...bloody Potter, winding everyone up. SO much like his father it's unbelievable, always has to be the center of attention. Why do I bother trying to cover up for him when things go wrong?

Because...

He was stumped for a moment. Why did he do that? The boy was a menacing attention seeker, it was plain to see. He was always in the middle of trouble or an inch from his life.

Because I know no one deserves to end up in Voldemorts' hands. As much as I despise the boy...I'd hate see harm come to him. Serious harm, anyway. My debt to James may be paid already, but I'd hate to see harm come to any of the students here. All innocents, just in the wizarding world at the wrong time. But I'll be damned before I let Voldemort get to any of them.

Oooh Severus, he thought sarcastically, what a good little boy scout you are. Why there IS some good in you!

He saw in his minds eye a Dumbledore figure with wings and twinkly wand, tapping Severus on the head, saying 'you SHALL go to the ball.' And there was Voldemort and Wormtail, dressed as the ugly sisters, whining whilst Severus' clothes turned into a silver ball gown.

What a twisted metaphor, he thought with a horrified sneer.

He put the wand into his inner pocket and grimaced when he remembered some of the people he had to connect with these days because of Voldemort - the werewolf and the dog-man, a list silly old fools whom he could not see being able to help save anyone from Voldemorts' wrath.

Promptly, at 7.00, there came a knock at the door. Severus had been waiting for it.

He rolled his eyes as he reached for the handle - the woman should get some new damn routine.

"Good morning, Minerva," he said before the door was fully open.

"Morning, Severus,' came the cheerful reply. Minerva was putting hatpins in place.

"Sleep well?" he enquired politely.

"Thank you, yes. And you?"

"Like the dead," he replied, buttoning his cuffs. Minerva nodded to him and passed on to the next teachers' door.

"A boring day,

Much like the last,

As future fades

On into past," he muttered to himself, turning back to collect essay papers and a leather folder.

Stalking towards the door to leave for breakfast, his mirror flickered as his reflection passed again.

I've got to get rid of that damn thing.

He paused, scowl on his face, and reaching out with a long-nailed hand, wrenched the mirror from its place on the table.

As it fell he was shocked at himself.

That was uncalled for. Why not just put it face down?

But as it tumbled end over end, the image it reflected showed something dark and-

Severus started, books and papers fluttering to the floor. His left forearm started to throb and time seemed to slow as his heartbeat quickened.

The dark mark on his arm burned his flesh as he reached into his robes for his wand, spinning to face the back of the room.

The deatheater was much quicker.

"Expellarmus!"

Severus flew backwards, landing sprawled on his back as he wand flew out of his hand, hitting the far wall with an insignificant click. Another curse was yelled before Severus could react and he found himself bound and gagged. Lying on the rug he saw the attacker walk towards him, removing his mask. Severus glared up at the man as he leaned over Severus with his famous sneer.

"My, my," whispered Lucius as he raised his wand to knock Severus unconscious, "you have been a bad boy..."

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Severus awoke.

The room was dark, apart from the fireplace that lit up the surrounding floorboards and his feet, as he was right next to it. Flames danced on the logs, crackling quietly, and their light flickered unpredictably.

He was on the floor, laid out with his back next to the wall. Still bound, they had thankfully taken off his gag. His mouth tasted of blood and his jaw ached where the blonde mans' fist had connected. Nothing like the traditional method, is there.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. The room wasn't particularly big, and only contained 3 armchairs, a low bench and the fireplace. And himself.

He shuffled upright, head still throbbing, and tried to think of a way out of this.

But his brain seemed to have frozen, and would only give him one piece of information.

Got any cyanide? Because you're not leaving so might as well end it now, peacefully, without giving away any information...

His head moved slightly as he heard a noise.

Footsteps. Someone with large feet...and how on earth does that help me?

The creaking floorboards stopped. He carried a candelabra, its circle of light surrounding the feet and looking up, he saw a dark face looking down its nose at him. Lucius sat in one of the armchairs. His expression was...fairly blank. Slightly inquisitive, like someone watching a mouse whilst he holds it up, squirming, by the tail.

Severus said nothing but stared back. No one could glare like him, and soon Lucius found a reason to turn away, and the blonde man's eyes traveled around the room.

"What do you think your chances are?" he drawled eventually.

Severus said nothing.

"Well?"

"None," he snapped.

"Ah, Mr. Snape, you always were very - to the point, as it were," Lucius said. "Very true. As soon as the dark Lord returns tonight, you shall be killed. And rightly so."

Severus looked away, his eyes expressionless.

"I would so love to do it myself, as you probably know. But the master has requested this, to do it himself. You are to be made an example of, you see, that no deserter will escape alive. And as for all those who oppose us..."

Lucius gave a cold smile.

"You've made quite a reputation for yourself, haven't you Mr. Snape. Running away and hiding under the wing of that abominable Dumbledore. Giving away our secrets, spying for them...you haven't been too popular over here."

"You evil, twisted bastard," hissed Severus through clenched teeth. "If I had my wand you'd be DEAD."

"It's such a shame my son has taken a shine to you, you know, and that you turned out to be head of his house. Those once proud Slytherins, how the mighty have fallen." Lucius wiped away an imaginary tear.

"You conniving, malicious -"

"Silence."

"I left Voldemort. I will never, ever regret what I did, even for what happens to me tonight. I would not change it. If anything, I would have never joined the madman to begin with. I'm not like you, Lucius, and damn proud of it."

Lucius' smile had frozen.

"You are nothing like me, Severus. You are WEAK. You joined the losing side and gave up on glory, and the cleansing of the world."

"CLEANSING?" He screamed, "you're INSANE, all of you! This will not work! Voldemort will fall, you will be crushed and the rest locked up. What you hope to achieve is not possible."

"I have to ask," said Lucius, ignoring Severus' ravings, "what was it that made you leave us? Refresh my...memory."

Severus froze.

His stomach reviled as he his memory reminded him of what Lucius was talking about. His breathing quickened as he began to panic and a wave of fear and nausea washed over him.

"I don't care what you have to say, you silly fool," Lucius continued. 'You have lost. Your whole miserable order has lost already, in my opinion. There IS no opposition to beat us. The muggles will be enslaved, the mudbloods will die, betrayers and opposition fall and from the ashes of the old wizard world," he raised his arms theatrically, "we will rise, and reign it all."

"HE would rise," Severus spat, mad with rage and the rantings of this murderer. "You shall be pushed aside, once you have lost your usefulness. He cares not for you."

"Calm, Severus, you don't want to strain yourself."

"It was you wasn't it,' said Severus quietly, his voice brimming with bottled rage. 'You killed her, all those years ago."

"Oh yes,' Lucius nodded. 'She was a spy and we can't abide spies," he said, staring pointedly at Severus.

"She was my sister," whispered Severus in disbelief.

"She turned against us. She had to go."

"She saw sense, and the madness in this scheme." Severus shook his head and looked sadly at the floor. "And it took her death for me to realize it all."

The guilt came back, which had vanished slowly over the years.

I should have been there for her - should have seen what she was doing, why she thought what she was doing was so important...but I was too proud. I knew I was in the right and she was at fault. Me? Severus Snape? On the wrong side?

Never!

And then...they had killed her...

She has tried to convince him that he was better than this, working for evil. But Severus had merely sneered at her and said, "Look at me. Which side do you really think would want me?"

And she had simply smiled and looked up at him with those big black eyes.

"You have a good heart, Severus. Maybe you just don't want to admit it, or it may not be so obvious to other people because of your mannerisms, but...it's there."

She had left then, and been killed that same night. He'd never seen her again.

What was it she said used to say to him when they were little? From one of those muggle children's books 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe'.

"Nice? Whoever said Aslan was nice? He's as good as they come, but good don't always mean nice...."

The face of Lucius woke him from his reminiscing and the fury filled him yet again, this time more powerful than ever.

"And that was it?" Lucius said, "the death of a betrayer made you decide to join the losing side?"

"HER NAME WAS AMPHORA!" Severus screamed, "AND I'D SAY THE LOSING SIDE WOULD BE THE ONES WHO WERE DEFEATED BY A LITTLE BABY BOY!"

The words reverberated around the room. And he could see Lucius was shaken by that fact that he had not lost any of the fire or spirit that he had had all those years ago when he had been a deatheater.

Lucius tried to collect himself and walked over and crouched next to the tied up man.

"When you are dead, deserter, I shall personally find another woman who means so much to you," Lucius hissed in Severus' ear. "Lovely golden hair she has, you know. Such an opposite to the scrawny, stinking creature I see before me. What could she ever see in you? What did you pay her to marry you, I wonder, your lovely Camellia."

Severus felt sick.

This man is utterly twisted. How can he take from me the two women I ever loved? First my sister, and now...my wife.

He had fallen in love with and married Camellia only a year or two after Voldemorts' fall. He had guessed that Voldemort didn't know about her. Or so he had hoped.

Lucius was still leering over him, mere inches from his face, with that scowling look of disgust.

What do you want to do? He thought madly, filled with rage and fear for Camellia, stay and continue this petty squabble? Die here, tonight, in the hands of your enemy? Give them that satisfaction?

What about Cam?

He had to brace himself as fear clenched his heart.

She doesn't know about this, or my past. It would terrify her. She's so bright, innocent and carefree, she wouldn't hurt a fly. She doesn't deserve to be hunted down because of my mistakes.

They can't harm her because of my faults; I won't let them do that. They won't harm me in this way again and they will NOT hurt my loved ones.

His thoughts focused at once on that point.

I've got to escape.

I must do something.

I don't care what happens to me. They can kill me, burn me, curse me for the evils I have done over the years. But they will NOT harm the woman I love. Not whilst I still draw breath.

Suddenly energized, Severus swung up with all his might and smacked his head against Lucius'. There was a nasty crack and Lucius' eyes rolled back in his head as he keeled over backwards.

"For an eccentric, Lucius, you never did have much common sense," Severus muttered.

He shifted over to the dropped candelabra and shuffled into the way of the candle flames. Within seconds his bonds were alight and he snapped them apart.

"Never push a man over the edge," he whispered. "Especially not Severus Snape. He will push back harder than you can ever imagine."

He stood - a tall, gaunt figure clad in black. He was dirty, disheveled and dusty, but full of an ever-burning fire, fuelled by rage and love.

He turned and without glancing back, ran and smashed through the windowpane.