Shadow on My Heart

Shadow on My Heart

I do not own Harry Potter, but I'm sure we all know that by now.

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Chapter 8: Trust and Betrayal

The term was drawing to a close at an unmercifully slow pace. It wasn't so much that Severus was looking forward to the holidays. On the contrary, he dreaded the cheer of Christmas, ringing in the lonely New Year in the dungeon, and last but not least -- his birthday. Each year that passed put him that much closer to the grave. The only thing to look forward to was the fact that classes would be over and the castle would be relatively student-free. Thankfully, all of his little snakes were slithering home for the three-week break. At least he could be miserable in peace.

It was time for the morning break, and unfortunately it was his turn to do yard duty. He pulled his hood up over his head and wrapped his scarf more securely in place. His attention went immediately to a group of students from his House.

Now what are those damnable Death Eater spawn up to? Honestly, if Malfoy ends up in my office once more before the term ends, I will hex that sycophantic little wanker into the next century! he thought bitterly, striding silently over to them.

"...Hawkins will be putty in my hands. I'll have her spilling secrets and begging for more," Malfoy bragged, puffing out his chest. The pale young man looked so like Lucius, except that his father was a lot more cold and calculating.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape intoned impatiently. "Might I have a word with you?"

Draco smiled at his Head of House. "Why certainly, Professor Snape."

Snape swept to a vacant corner of the yard, speaking to Malfoy in stern yet hushed tones. "Did you forget our conversation at the beginning of the term? Did I not tell you that the best course of action was to keep your head down and your mouth shut?"

"I just want to find out what Hawkins and Potter are up to, Professor Snape. He goes into her office three and four nights a week. Do you think he's shagging her?" Draco said in a mock innocent voice.

Life would be utterly unfair, and if that were the case, I would most assuredly consider hawking myself off the Astronomy Tower. Severus gave him a longsuffering look. "What ideas have you been rolling around in your hormone-infused, adolescent brain?"

"Potter and Hawkins spend an awful a lot of time together, sir. Much more than could be considered appropriate for a teacher and a student. I thought possibly that the Dark Lord could use such information."

"Need I keep telling you that if you continue to meddle in plans that do not concern you, then you will be considered a liability? Such a label could cost you your life." Snape's voice had dropped to a deadly whisper. "The Master does not look favorably on people who cannot control themselves. It would not be appreciated if you ruined a carefully-laid plan in order to settle a schoolboy rivalry."

"But I thought--"

"You are not asked to think, Malfoy; you are asked to obey!" Snape growled. "Never again take it upon yourself to gather information. Also, never expect me to share any of the Circle's plans with you. Or anything else I do not wish to have repeated, for that matter."

Malfoy's pale face turned scarlet under Snape's glare. "If I don't get a chance to prove myself, how will I be able to claim my father's place among the chosen?"

So that's his plan. Taking his father's place, being at the top of the heap, as always. I had better keep a closer eye on him, because the next closest step to the Dark Lord is mine. Perhaps I should let him go through with this little idea he has for Hawkins; let her deal with him, Severus thought. "You will not be inducted while you are still in school, Draco. Your primary objective is to finish your education. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Severus waved him dismissively away, a feeling of dread tugging at the back of his mind. The boy had no idea what he was asking for. Being a member of Voldemort's fold meant trading in your soul for the seductive power of the Dark Arts. How many times had he been asked to torture and kill anyone who stood in Voldemort's way? He very much doubted that Malfoy would be able to cope with the reality of being a Death Eater. To him, it was something else to brag about, a way to further his pathetic self-importance. He simply had no concept of what would be asked of him.

Then again, Severus realized, neither did I. At the time, I was looking for a way to lash out at anyone who was better than I was.

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Three days later, the students departed from the school. Severus breathed a sigh of relief as he went to make his way back to the dungeon. Finally, peace and quiet. He was getting ready to head down the staircase to the dungeon corridor when someone called his name. He gritted his teeth in irritation. So much for peace and quiet.

Callista was striding over to him, smiling pleasantly.

"Severus, I was wondering if you would care to take a walk with me. It just started snowing, so it's exceptionally beautiful out. Won't you come, please?"

"It's too cold out," he replied.

She crossed he arms and tapped her foot impatiently. "You will be warm enough if you wear a proper cloak and use a Warming Charm. Do you want me to walk down with you to get your cloak, or shall I wait here?"

He raised an eyebrow, replying, "I don't recall saying I would join you."

"Fine, it was just an offer. I thought it would be nice to share a beautiful, snowy day with the fascinating, brilliant, and charming Professor Snape, but I guess I'll just go all alone," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"You had me until you used the term 'charming'." His dark eyes searched her face. What are you up to?

"Will you join me, then?" Callista asked.

"Wait here." He walked sedately to the staircase. Once out of sight, he jogged down the dungeon corridor to his office to retrieve his cloak, gloves and scarf. Now he would have a chance to convey his conversation with Malfoy, and not worry about being overheard.

Callista was standing at the entrance, her indigo wool cloak wrapped warmly around her. She extended her gloved hand to him as he approached. He was not entirely comfortable with the idea of taking her hand. Hadn't they silently agreed to keep their relationship strictly professional? Callista possibly read his discomfort, for she withdrew her hand without comment.

Outside, huge feathery flakes were falling lazily from the sky. The Forbidden Forest was shrouded in silver, and the edges of the lake were iced over. It looked rather lovely, pure and white and unspoiled. Suddenly, a great black creature rose out of the forest canopy.

"Oh, look a thestral," Callista whispered. "I heard they have an amazing sense of direction."

"Was it someone other than Professor Blackburn?" There was a touch of concern in his voice.

"What? Oh...it doesn't matter. It was a long time ago," she said, trying to avoid the question.

He decided not to push her further. Instead he told her about the little chat he had with Draco Malfoy. She bristled at the suggestion of her 'affair' with Harry. Severus concluded, "I don't trust Malfoy; he would hand over his mother if he thought it would gain him anything."

"Leave him to me. Putty in his hands indeed," she muttered angrily.

"Just be careful. He is very unpredictable, no sense of self-control whatsoever." He looked over to see her shivering slightly. "We should head back. Do you have any plans for the holidays?"

"Just grading papers tonight and then some relaxing. Yourself?" Callista said, with quivering lips. They quickened their pace.

"The same." He extended his arm awkwardly around her shoulders. "Come here; you're freezing."

They hurried up to the castle. Once inside, they paused at the foot of the main staircase. He briefly considered escorting her the entire way up to her quarters. He looked at her cautiously, unsure of his next move. A part of him so badly wanted to trust her with his heart, but being open with her again came with incredible risks. She had turned on him once before, and he feared it could happen again.

He ventured an offer. "Would you care to join me in the library after dinner? I have a few things I need to look up for my seventh year Potions class."

Callista blushed slightly, looking genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry, but I promised Harry I would help him finish marking the papers for his class and go over his lessons for the next term. I can't stand having work hanging over my head. The thought of leaving it until the term begins would ruin the holidays for me. You can always join us if you like, or just come up later for a nightcap."

Hawkins and Potter spend a lot of time together. More time than seems appropriate for a teacher and a student. Malfoy's words echoed in his head, and he couldn't help but think: Maybe there is something more going on, other than defense lessons.

"I'm not sure how late I'll be." His voice was a bit colder than he had intended.

"Perhaps some other time?" she suggested before hurrying up the staircase.

Once she was out of sight, Severus stormed toward the stairs leading to the dungeon corridor. His black cloak billowed behind him, making him resemble a storm cloud. He burst through the office door and slammed it shut behind him. The jars on the shelves nearest the door rattled loudly. He flung himself into the chair behind his desk and cradled his head in his hands.

What the bloody hell is the matter with me? Would I have reacted like this if she said she was meeting Flitwick? he thought. Of course not, Flitwick is old enough to be her grandfather, and he's under three feet tall. Then again, Potter is just a scrawny little boy with a scar on his head. Well, he is hardly little and scrawny anymore. He really isn't much of a little boy anymore either. He has become a rather powerful wizard. Damn, somewhere along the line, that little boy I used to be able to scare the piss out of has become a man. In some ways, he is my equal.

His head filled with a rather unwanted memory.

Shortly after the new year, Lucius Malfoy and Severus were summoned by Voldemort. Both of the men were reporting information: Malfoy from the Ministry and Severus from the school. For several minutes, he listened to Malfoy give his report. At last, it was Snape's turn. Severus knelt before Voldemort. When the evil creature called upon him, Severus gave his report of the goings-on at the school, things he overheard from students and information he gathered on Adolphus Hawkins and his task force. Most of it consisted of carefully crafted half-truths that Dumbledore wanted him to pass on. He was pleased to learn what little information he had was still more than accurate than the information brought in by Lucius Malfoy.

"Severus, are you sure that this information is correct?" Voldemort asked, in his blood chilling tone.

"I am positive, Master."

"How did you manage to come upon it?" asked the frigid voice.

The young man worked hard to keep his mind clear, as he really did not want to reveal his source. He spoke in a voice that was free from expression. "Adolphus Hawkins's daughter is a student in my seventh year class, Master. I am overseeing her pre-apprenticeship. Many of these things I have overheard her saying to other students."

"Do you have a good rapport with the young lady?"

"I believe so." Severus did not like the direction that this conversation was taking.

"I want you to work on gaining her trust. Befriend Miss Hawkins; seduce her if you must, but I want you to learn as much about her father as you can. You may use any means at your disposal to do this. The information you acquire from her is of the utmost importance. Do not fail me, Severus," Voldemort hissed.

"I will not fail, Master." Inwardly, he felt ill at what he was asked to do. Callista was a sweet and beautiful young woman, whose intelligence and company he greatly enjoyed. He was being asked to pull her into a potentially deadly position.

Sometime later, he was sitting in a private room in a pub at the far end of Knockturn Alley with Malfoy. Malfoy sipped his drink, staring in disbelief at the younger wizard. Severus was looking at his own drink without sampling any; anything stronger than butterbeer made it too difficult to focus his Occlumency-altered thoughts.

"What a fortunate turn of events for you, Snape," said Malfoy, fixing him with his cold gray eyes. "You have been just given a dream assignment -- seduce a beautiful young woman. One would think you would be dancing down Knockturn Alley with joy."

"She is very intelligent and ambitious. I won't be able to sway her with mere flowers and flattery," Severus said, idly swirling his drink around the glass.

Malfoy laughed. "I wonder why he picked you. You aren't exactly the type one associates with wooing the ladies."

"I have contact with her on a daily basis, Lucius." What was Malfoy trying to say to him?

"How innocent do you think she is?" Malfoy asked, as Severus stared at him blankly. "Is she untouched, you think? What I wouldn't give to be in your position. Narcissa has been quite standoffish since Draco was born. Although I am hoping that will improve soon."

Severus really didn't want the details of the man's personal life. He rubbed his temples with his long slender fingers. He decided to try to sidetrack him. "How old is your son, now?"

"Nearly a year old. I thought you couldn't stand children. Surely you don't see yourself as a father!" Malfoy was eyeing him. "Miss Hawkins would be a good one to bear offspring. Beautiful, intelligent and such wonderfully pure blood."

"I never really thought about it. You knew my father; it's not like I had a great parenting role-model." This conversation was going from bad to worse.

"Do you have a plan?"

"For what?" Severus said, without bothering to think.

"For Miss Hawkins, you idiot." More laughter. "When was the last time you even had a shag?"

"My sex life is none of your business," Severus said tightly. That facet of his life was so sporadic that it could almost be considered nonexistent. The last person he wanted to share it with was Malfoy.

"Perhaps my sister, Bianca, could help you out," There was a malicious gleam in his eyes. Did Malfoy know about him and Bianca and the deal his father had made nearly five years ago? His stomach twisted at the thought of the woman who ripped the last shred of purity from him. No, if he was going to seduce Callista Hawkins, he wanted to ensure that she would at least enjoy the experience.

Severus sat at his desk, cradling his throbbing head in his hands. To have Callista in his life was such a gift, far more than anything he deserved. He had spent the second half of his life trying to atone for everything he had done in Voldemort's service. When she had first become part of his existence, Callista's love and friendship had been enough to cleanse him from his wrongdoings. Everything she had felt for him was the water that had washed away his faults. She had seen what was good in him: his gift with potions and his intelligence. When he had been with her, he had wanted to be a better person.

He remembered that Sirius Black had tried to convince her that she would have been better off without him. Severus knew that Black had been correct to suggest that she should abandon him. In the end, Black was right: being with him had cost her so much. She had entrusted him with her mind and body, her heart and soul, and all he did was betray that trust. He lied to her more times than he cared to think about, and in the end he lost her.

Severus paced the office like a caged beast. His frustration grew with each step. He went over the lost loves in his life. His thoughts were like a tangled piece of barbed wire that cut at his heart until it bled with the pain. I lost my wonderful, beautiful, loving and brilliant mother to that man he was forced to call a father. For no other reason than I was too small to do anything but sit in a corner and cry. Then when I was in school, I lost Lily Evans to James Potter, but only after I forced her away by calling her a Mudblood. That was my fault. Later I lost Callista to Sirius. Bloody hell, I thought he had killed her to get even with me! Of course, I lied to her constantly. Those lies drove her right into Black's arms. But there is no way in Hell, or on Earth, that I will loose her to a sixteen-year-old boy! She used to change his nappies, for the love of Merlin!

He leaned against the cold stone wall of the office trying to catch his breath. He would calm down, and then he would go see her. Even if that meant spending time in the presence of The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pain-In-His-Arse. Severus focused on his breathing, inhaling peace and control, exhaling anger and the pressing need to break something.

Once he felt his blood pressure return to something near non-fatal, Severus made his way up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. He paused before the office door, staring at the brass plaque: Professor C. Hawkins, PM, Ph.D. and below it Mr. H. Potter, TA. The nuisance was far too young to have an office, even if he had to share it. No, he would check to see if Potter was still around before he knocked. If the boy was still there, he would come back later. He wanted to avoid an ugly scene in front of Callista. Knowing that she lacked his paranoia, he checked to see if she had any wards on the door. As he suspected, none. He cast the Transparency charm on the door.

The Boy Wonder was sitting at his desk, and Callista was sitting next to him discussing his lessons for the upcoming term. A long wave of hair was hanging down the side of her face. Potter reached up to tuck it behind her ear, but his hand lingered at the soft curve of her cheek. The whelp looked as if he wanted to kiss her.

Severus squashed the urge to bust through the door and confront them. That action would be something a Gryffindor would do. He was a Slytherin. He would bide his time and strike when the little brat least expected it. He would take his revenge during the Dark Arts instruction. He would make Potter pay for his adolescent urges.

Severus swept back to his dungeons, stopping to remind Filch to be on the lookout for students who thought curfew didn't apply on the holidays. Let the stupid Squib do the dirty work. Once inside his private quarters, Severus pulled out an elegant bottle and a crystal shot glass. He poured himself a shot of firewhiskey and tossed it back. The amber liquid burned the whole way to his stomach. He closed his eyes savoring the feeling of relaxation. He went to pour a second shot and stopped himself. He stared at the bottle and remembered another man with stringy black hair and a hooked nose. He capped the bottle and returned it to the cabinet. I will not become my father.