Snape the Younger

Promises, Promises

Floating in detached silence, the 'Id' that was Severus Snape looked down on the flayed meat that used to be his body and studied it curiously. It was long and thin, not particularly pretty but sturdy, as sturdy as years of surviving abuse and torture could make it. Long ago, Severus had learned that his body was not really his; it was merely the envelope that kept body, mind and soul together. It was often beaten or abused by family or even strangers if his Grandmother thought an outside expert could help change it into what she wanted it to be. Right now, it was bloody and skin free, cut with whip welts and stippled with shreds of cloth embedded in the meat. There also seemed to be an audience around the strange room it was laying in. That wasn't unusual - quite the opposite - but this audience seemed to be reacting differently to the usual crowd of thrill seekers.

"Look, Son, I don't know what you thought you were going to achieve by interfering in another Family's business. Merlin's balls, Lucius, he's almost dead and if he does die here, there will be a huge stink with the Ministry."

"And that precludes me from trying to save a friend?" Lucius mocked bitterly.

Severus thought Lucius was being overly sentimental but then thought perhaps it would be nice to have a friend. Unfortunately, the Snape mind, controller of the three-part being that made up Severus Ibrim Snape, kicked in and laughed at his pretensions. A friend, what use was a friend, except to betray us at a later date? Had he not learned anything from the last twelve months? Friends, lovers, mentors, they were all temporary, never a permanent or trustworthy part of his life.

The last part finally took a hand in the discussion, soothing the other two members of the triad, Severus Ibrim Snape. He had always known where his soul lived, an amorphous internal mass that was analogous to the spine but rested between spine and heart, running from brain to coccyx and then around into his prick. When he finally separated, it would unfurl and take on the shape of his flesh as ghosts usually did but he knew it would be darkness, not the pale grey representations that usually made up ghosts. This would hold true unless he found his soulmate and he would know who that was because that soul would fill the hollows in his and he would fill the hollows in theirs. Snape was not religious, this was simply the conclusions his mind had drawn over the years, having studied the question on many occasions. Quite regularly the philosophical discussions he held with himself had been the only things that kept him together in the sea of pain he had been driven into by the various spells and punishments he suffered at his grandmother's and father's hands. He thought he was remarkably sane, all in all considered.

"Of course you are sane," the mind said flatly, "probably more sane than anyone deserves to be. Only by preserving ourselves as three separate parts can we endure the life we have been forced to survive. Severus the meat will heal, it always does, Ibrim the soul will absorb the blackness and use it to fuel the protection and Snape the mind will analyse and protect the rest as best it may. Be quiet now, something is happening."

~~*~~

"My Lord, I did not know you were coming!" Abraxas Malfoy almost prostrated himself before the tall, charismatic figure who stepped out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor. "Please, have this chair; it is the most comfortable in the Manor. May I have refreshment brought to you, a footstool, anything? Let me apologise for the mess and not being ready to greet you as is fitting!"

Smiling benignly, the Lord took the offered seat and glanced around the study curiously. He usually only came on formal occasions and had not seen the Manor when not dressed for company. The formal and most proper study was strewn with books and papers, an empty glass abandoned on the floor by the couch, a copy of the Daily Prophet tossed carelessly on a table. Even the very formal Lord Malfoy was in his under-robes, the sleeves rolled up his forearms and the buttons of his collar gaping. "Don't apologise, Abraxas, it's nice to know you can relax sometimes and I apologise for intruding on your precious moments." Such nicety and sincerity were the trademarks the Lord operated under. "I do beg pardon for my unannounced arrival but it did seem important to Lucius when he sent the owl."

"Lucius? What is that boy up to now," Abraxas snapped in exasperation. "I am sorry, my Lord, he does get the oddest fantasies into his mind when he has a cause," the old man said fondly, shaking his head. "Youth, it is so wasted on the young, is it not?"

The Lord laughed his agreement but was not put off his quest. "So what has Lucius been up to that has caused such upset?"

"He's been interfering in another Family's business. Oh, it's that Snape boy, of course. He was badly beaten by his father and left to die in his rooms but Lucius had to go and bring him to the town apartment despite the prognosis. Well, he has been hovering between life and death ever since, no matter what they do, there doesn't seem to be enough magic in the mediwizards' arsenal to counteract the drainage on his resources. The boy is dying and there will be terrible repercussions if he does, especially from the Ministry, you know how it goes!" Abraxas shook his head as he stared into the fire, only too happy to unburden himself to the sympathetic figure seated across from him. "Don't mistake me, I do sympathise with the boy's plight, but to interfere in another Family's business, well, that is a breach of ethics I am most anxious not to explore."

"Perhaps we should explore it, after all Family Snape is a Pureblood family, is it not? Ah, vampires in the line? Still, vampires are Purebloods too - much as are veela - so we can count them as pure. The boy is at Lucius' flat, is he? Perhaps I shall visit. After all, Lucius did mention the boy at the last reception and told me he was brilliant at potions, remarkably so, for one so young." There was a question in the statement and Abraxas nodded agreement. "Very well, I will take my leave and let you go back to your crossword puzzle," he indicated the paper on the side table with a smile and a nod. "Twenty three down is 'parallax', I believe," he murmured as he flooed out.

~~*~~

Lucius sighed and rubbed his face, trying to muster some enthusiasm for his next appointment. Thank Merlin it would soon be Christmas! The last appointment had been draining, to say the least. Breton Grindwind was annoying, a constant nagging thorn in the side. He had moments of sheer genius floating in a lake of mediocre competence. All he had to do was make sure the Malfoy imports passed through Muggle customs and were delivered to the warehouses for storage on time and intact. Could he do that? No! Again, a shipment of African rare woods had been intercepted by some idiotic Muggle and, instead of simply Obliviating her; the stupid fool had had her killed! Now the Muggle authorities were investigating the death of the girl and scrutinising the Malfoy warehouse a little too hard for his liking. Sighing deeply, Lucius assigned a crack team of 'normalising' wizards to the warehouse problem and decided that Grindwind's brilliance was no longer outweighed by his stupidity. He had to be replaced.

Hard on the heels of that decision came the thought that someone had to be appointed to his place and that set off another train of thought all together. Competence was such a difficult thing to judge, totally dependent on the circumstances around it. People who shone in one set of circumstances failed abysmally in another. Healers who were touted as the best of their times failed abysmally when confronted with a badly tortured boy. For days, Severus had lain as still as death, barely breathing and barely alive but none of the very expensive and highly trained mediwizards he had brought in could do anything for Severo. One had even said that, if the boy healed, he would never recover his spirit because, 'he acted as if he had been kissed by a Dementor'.

Oddly enough, no matter how much magic they filled him with and potions they rubbed onto his wounds, the skin never regenerated, the meat remaining raw and bloody. Lucius had seen a number of skinned Muggles in his time, and had participated in many an evening of casual torture but he had never seen anyone simply survive being treated like that before. Usually, they died in screaming agony after a few hours, but not Severus Snape, he just lay there, moaning occasionally if someone was careless in handling him but never awakening, never dying, just suspended between one state and the other.

Oh well, tonight he would get that witch from Knockturn Alley to look at Severo and see if she could work the miraculous cure she boasted of. If not, he would extract a fitting price! About to call for his next appointment, Lucius stiffened and rose hurriedly, someone had just removed all the warding charms from his flat. His home was invaded!

~~*~~

Severus, Ibrim and Snape were content. It was a strange sort of arrangement, the three parts of the being dwelling as separate entities on the plane they came to when the burdens of their life became too much to bear. Severus the body was badly injured but large influxes of magic held it in stasis so it could survive. Ibrim the soul cocooned the damaged body, keeping it safe from invasion by unfriendly spirits while Snape the mind watched over all three of them, guarding and warding, keeping them safe within the fortress it had build over the years. A number of witches and wizards had assaulted their stronghold; trying to haul them out and force them to participate in some ritual or another, but the strength of mind that had always kept Snape safe resisted all their brute strength and ignorance.

They dwelled in contentment until a new presence made itself felt very gently. The threefold being stiffened warily but this new intruder was different. He didn't storm the gates, nor did he throw random magic at them in an effort to force a change. Instead, he stood at the gate and held out his hands in a universal signal for peace. Snape studied him closely; noting he was solid and real, black-haired, blue-eyed and handsome. Cautiously, Snape allowed the stranger's greeting to touch the three of them lightly, ready to withdraw at the first sign of coercion.

"Hello, I'm Tom, who are you?" the stranger asked guilessly.

The three parts had a quick conference. "I am Snape, that is Severus and this is Ibrim."

"It's nice to meet you all. Where are we now?"

"This is my place, my castle," Snape said matter-of-factly. "This is where we live."

"Ah, a fine castle indeed, may I come in?" Tom asked, standing perfectly still until the triad had conferred then slowly, as if a great gate was cracking open, the closed mind before him allowed a sliver of entry to be seen. The Legilimens did not rush forward but 'walked' sedately into the forecourt of the huge fortress he perceived, seeing a lanky, pale boy before him. "Hello, nice to meet you at last."

The boy's eyes narrowed and he sent his own questing tendril of Legilimency out toward the newcomer who allowed it in a fraction. Ibrim was allowed to see the boy the man had been, struggling against a system that held him in thrall too, clawing and fighting his way out until he could survive in the real world as a powerful and successful figure. Ibrim withdrew to consult with the others and Tom allowed it, somewhat amazed at the strength of mind the boy showed. He was quite sure he could destroy the boy's shielding but that would defeat the purpose of his visit. He wanted this vast and complex mind for his own use, wanted to know how the boy could split himself in three without sinking into total madness. The being Severus Ibrim Snape was fascinating! Untrained in conventional Occlumency or Legilimency, he was strong in a raw, unfettered way that held the promise of much bigger and better things to come. If he could be coaxed out of his coma, he would be an asset worthy of much support.

"You can come in," the boy said suddenly, making Tom start. He had thought he was inside the boy's mind but suddenly yet another door opened and he was led into what appeared to be a potions laboratory complete with things Tom had never seen before. The pale lad bent over a cauldron and stirred carefully before straightening to look at him though the veil of steam. "Why did you seek me out?" he asked casually, gliding over to a bench and hitching a hip onto the stool there, indicating Tom should take the other.

"Your friend Lucius asked me to meet you but when I came to see you, you had been beaten and had lapsed into a coma from which it looked as if you would never recover," Tom answered honestly.

"Ah, a coma then. We have decided that we don't like the 'real world' and that it is better just to stay here and work on our potions rather than let that bastard exercise his temper on us whenever he feels like it. We don't want to live as he dictates and we don't want to suffer his anger whenever he feels like it. We are safe here and no one can touch us ever again." The boy crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

Tom hid a smile. "I can touch you," he said playfully and reached out to stroke the boy's stubble of hair. "You should grow that longer; it would look very nice on you."

"So my father can anchor me down by it? No, thank you, shaved is fine." He ducked out from under the large hand as quickly as a snake and put the stool between them.

"What if I could promise he would never hurt you again, that if you came back you would be protected and sponsored, and that you could go to your Potions School in peace with no fear of being attacked or bullied ever again?"

Obviously, the boy was a complete cynic for he snorted laughter, as bitter as gall and far older than his real or apparent age. "And I can make Muggles do magic too," he snapped angrily, a force suddenly hitting Tom in the chest and making him stagger backwards. The boy was powerful!

Tom resisted, holding steady without moving while the boy vented his spleen on him, throwing every iota of anger and fury at the figure in his mind until he drooped, leaning against the bench to pant, a hand wiping away tears furiously. "I am stronger than you," Tom said quietly, returning calmness for anger and noting the aborted flinch the boy gave. This one would come to hand for a gentle touch, be led but not driven, and he would be incredibly loyal if he chose to bind himself to the cause. There was evidence in his core of fanaticism, that once loyalty was won, it would stay won, if not forever, then through more pressure than most men withstood. In fact, the man thought privately, this was the loyalty of a female variety, very rare in men and very hard to control. Interesting!

The figure changed, becoming finer featured, more idealised but less substantial. This was Ibrim, not Snape and a different personality almost. "You make promises but how do we know you can keep them? Severus has been hurt so many times in the past by people who were supposed to love and cherish him. People who were supposed to protect him have done him more damage than those who were his loudly proclaimed enemies. What makes you so different? And how can we trust you?"

"I am both Tom and Lord Voldemort - Ah I see you have heard my name before - I give you my word that, if you give me your loyalty, I will protect you and sponsor you on the path you choose." He offered his hand again and Ibrim took it, a feeling of seeking and movement invading Tom's person, deeper than any had penetrated his mind before. He endured the seeking, holding those barriers he dared not release, allowing the boy access to parts of his mind no other follower had ever touched. It was a giant risk but the odds were stacked well in his favour or Tom would never have risked such a thing.

Ibrim withdrew and Snape returned, more relaxed, less wary and more open as he turned to stir another cauldron, dipping a finger to taste the brew. Tom dared to approach and peer into the depths too, raising an inquiring eyebrow. "It's a variant of the normal healing potion, more efficient and with less side affects. The stuff they brew at St Mungo's is appallingly bad and if the patient has any sensitivity to any of the ingredients it can be fatal. This one will counteract most bad reactions and if it can't, it will self-neutralise immediately."

"You can do that?" Tom was moved to ask incredulously.

"Yes," Snape said matter-of-factly. "It's just a matter of balance. Can't you?"

"I don't think anyone else in the world could, which is why we need you, Severus Ibrim Snape, whole and hale and with us out there. Will you join us?"

"Do I have your assurance of support? Will you help heal and ward Severus?" Snape demanded, almost forcing compliance by strength of will alone.

"I promise you a Mark of my favour and my full support in your ambition. You have my word in it!" Again, Tom held out his hand and this time Snape took it, pumping once as they stared into each other's eyes. "Here, let me show you what I can do for you." Tom slid his hand further up Severus' left forearm, covering the soft skin there with his large palm.

Severus writhed as the hand burned but it was a good, almost sexual burning that travelled from his arm up to his brain and down into his soul. Ibrim resisted but finally allowed the seeking tendrils of Binding to wrap into some parts of itself, keeping it out of others that the tendrils didn't even seem to realise were there. Other tendrils of power snaked out and wrapped around Snape, drawing him into the web the older wizard was weaving. Again, only selected parts of the Snape were enmeshed, others standing aloof from the proceedings and watching disinterestedly. Finally, the palm moved and the long fingers drew careful patterns on the skin, each finger leaving a black line after it, embedded deep in Severus' flesh.

"That is my Mark and my promise to you, Severus Ibrim Snape, you will no longer have to fear your father or your family, you are my man now, and your Severus persona is already healing to my will."

Snape checked and felt the new skin flowing over his flesh, unblemished and smooth except for the forearm that held an indelible tattoo.

"So it is Agreed," he acknowledged his new sponsor with a nod.

"Agreed!"

~~*~~

Lucius burst into his spare room, wand at the ready, only to stumble to a stop, gaping in shock. Lord Voldemort himself had laid a hand on Severus' brow, a look of deep concentration on his face as he bent. Even as Lucius dropped to one knee, the Lord straightened, a soft 'Agreed' falling from his lips, echoed by Severus on the bed.

Straightening, Lord Voldemort smiled down at Lucius, waving a chair forward. "I have met your friend here, a remarkable young man. He should be waking soon and healing of course. What a fascinating and complex mind he has, incredible for one so young. You should treasure him."

The great man patted Lucius on the head and rose to apparate, ignoring the wards set to stop such an event from happening. Lucius merely gaped at the empty spot for a long second then crossed quickly to the bed as Severus stirred and groaned painfully.

"Has he gone then?" Severus asked coughing a little as Lucius gave him some water. "Pity, he seemed rather intelligent. Listen, Lucius, any chance of making a brew for me? I'd do it myself but..."

Lucius laughed and bent to kiss the sliver of cheek he could reach. "You and your potions, my Severo! Gods below, man, I was worried about you, don't ever do this to me again. We have to get you healed up and back on your feet as soon as possible."

"That's alright, Lucius, he promised to keep me safe so we have all the time in the world now, provided he keeps his promise."

"He will, Severus, he will. After all, he has Marked you as his own."

They both studied the Dark Mark on Severus' forearm with knowing smiles.

05.04.2006