Severus Snape

Severus Snape: The Evil and the Damage Done

Severus Snape let go of a flower pinched between his fingers. It fell into the simmering potion he was preparing and disappeared. The side of his mouth curled slightly in a half smile while he stared distractedly at a piece of parchment where the recipe was neatly scribbled. He stood lost in thought for a long moment, and then shook his head to bring himself back to reality. "It does not do to dwell on what was not to be," he muttered to himself. "If I botch this I'll have two days of hard work to do all over again."

"That is the trouble with these young ungrateful brats," he thought, " they do not understand what a beautiful and exact art potion making is. Be at all times present and concentrated, and the reward of seeing the perfect brew emerge will be worth every ounce of gruelling effort in the end. 'Goof around in class', as they so eloquently would put it, and you are surely never going to know."

He had to admit though that he too had found it somewhat difficult to concentrate on the tasks at hand lately. Ever since the headmaster had approached him a week ago, his mind had been flooded with unhappy memories. He knew that he could will himself to shut out all his thoughts and clear his mind when he really needed to, this was after all part of the abilities that had made Dumbledore request his help, but it required concentration and he found his thoughts easily slip away. Had the circumstances not been so precarious the headmaster would not have needed his help, he too had the skill, but in this case, it would have been highly dangerous for him to use it.

"I shall need you to do something for me, Severus, that I would not normally ask of you," he had said.

Professor Snape of course thought at first that it would have something to do with seeking out the Dark Lord, or one of his Death Eaters. He had immediately felt the familiar clench in his stomach.

When Dumbledore had continued, "I need you to teach Harry Potter Occlumency," he had felt a bit relieved. That would be unpleasant enough, not to mention highly embarrassing, but at least not very dangerous. "You do understand why I need you to do this instead of myself, Severus?"

"Yes, sir, I do," he had answered, feeling a bit weary. "The boy is connected with the Dark Lord through that scar of his, and the curse. If he would reach you...." he had trailed off.

"Yes, Severus! As I said, I would not normally ask this of you. I know that you may find it... unpleasant, but I have little choice. Only the best Occlumens can teach Harry the skill, and at Hogwarts, that would be you."

Professor Snape's right eyebrow had risen at this. "You wouldn't try to flatter me, Headmaster?"

"No, of course not. It is nothing less than the truth."

He knew it was true. The gift was very rare. There was really no one else Dumbledore could turn to. However, the prospect of letting the Potter boy accidentally get a peek inside his mind had by then begun to seem quite revolting; nor would looking inside the boy's own little conceited mind do anything to help him enjoy his dinner.

With a little hint of anxiety at expressing this somewhat less than valiant apprehension to the formidable wizard, he had searched for the way to word it to Dumbledore. "You know, Headmaster, that I would never allow myself to wallow in sad memories or become easily provoked. However, in this matter I may not have your strength and trust."

"You have many times proven you can be as strong as I am, Severus," Dumbledore had said, adding in a lighter tone, "and your strength at resisting sweets far surpasses mine."

"Yes sir, that would be the one thing," he had answered, ignoring the joke. "I wonder though if, to ease my mind and help my trust, you would let me borrow your Pensieve. I do not feel I have the strength to bare all my thoughts, and there are a few memories I'd rather keep to myself."

"I don't know, Severus," Dumbledore had said with a hint of a smile in his eyes. "I wonder if maybe sharing a few memories with Harry wouldn't make you inclined to judge him a little less harshly." When Snape didn't answer Dumbledore had continued, "You know Severus, it's not as if I'm totally oblivious to the things going on in this castle, even down in the dungeons."

"It may be that my judgement is harsh at times, but while some of us have to get by on very little understanding, that boy gets away with far more than I can stand!" he had snapped, despite himself.

The smile had left Dumbledore's eyes. With a sigh he had said, "Oh, Severus! By all means, please borrow my Pensieve if you wish to hide your memories, and should you forget any of them in there, let them rest in peace. It is about time."

Dumbledore had then left him without any further discussion.

He finished adding the last of the ingredients to the potion and took a step back, regarding the cauldron with a sense of satisfaction. It was going to be perfect. Now it only needed to stand there and simmer lightly for another ten hours.

It had seemed like a very good idea at the time to put some of the most private and painful memories away in a safe place. The trouble with the Pensieve, though, was that in order to retrieve the memories, one had to bring them back to consciousness. So, he had been forced to relive some of the darkest moments of his life. Some of them he had found himself unable to stop dwelling on, even though he had put them away. Strong feelings tended to make the thoughts multiply and spin out of control.

"I can control them if I want to," he said aloud, "but perhaps I sometimes prefer not to."

There were also some very nice moments that nevertheless were very private.

He wondered what young Mr. Potter would make of a scene with a certain red-haired girl sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts train, laughing heartily at a joke a certain greasy-haired, scrawny young boy dressed in black robes had just cracked, a very pretty young girl with interesting green eyes, who didn't mind being friends with a strange boy like Snape. Someone he had been able to talk quite freely with, something of a rarity at the time to be sure, especially for anyone of the female gender. At least until his very dear friend Lucius Malfoy had turned up with the rest of the gang.

"Are you talking to that Mudblood again, Severus? Aren't you afraid to get dirt on you?"

Bellatrix, Rookwood, Dolohov, and Bulstrode laughed behind him. She had stood up and walked out of the compartment without a word.

With friends like that....

Then again, when they had first met, he had not quite known what to make of her. They had seemed to share a few interests. He had liked to read and had taken to reading poetry on those dark nights when the shouting from his parents' bedroom had kept him awake, or the silent ones when his father never came home at all. Dressing the darkness in words had always seemed to help somehow, and by the time he came to Hogwarts he had known many poems by heart. She had liked listening. There seemed to have been a bit of a lack of cultural things in her home. It had taken a great deal of coercion on her part to make him recite anything at all at first, but since she obviously knew to appreciate it and never laughed at him, he had relented. They had also liked paintings, so they had talked about that - many of the old masters and also a few of the newer ones. Of course, the Dark Arts were always the art form he had been most drawn to, much like a fly cannot help being drawn towards the light of a fire, even when fearing the heat from the flames. He had made sure never to talk about that with her though. She was, after all, Muggle-born.

He had grown up with the contempt of Muggles so well imprinted in the walls and the air he breathed that it was hardly anything he ever reflected upon. His father had never missed an opportunity to lash out at their shortcomings and stupidity. He liked to go on about how marrying Muggles were the beginning of the end to wizardry, about all the useless Mudblood wizards and witches, their disrespect and ignorance of the traditions, and how they always stood between him and his success.

But lately his father had aroused a bit of contempt in Severus, and as so many of his childhood truths were secretly being questioned in his mind, he had not found it so hard to believe himself becoming friends with a Muggle-born.

Why he was running around with the Dark Arts crowd in Slytherin had sometimes seemed more like a mystery to him. It wasn't really of course because he had always known them, the children of the families that had been in Slytherin for generations.

She had certainly not liked them, and she had shown it openly. She had even tried to talk to him about it.

"Why are you always hanging around with that Malfoy boy?" she had asked him one day. "He's so creepy, and he doesn't even seem to treat you right."

"Well, if you knew him like I do I'm sure you would feel differently," he had said. Grasping for the words to redeem Malfoy, he had looked over the nearby treetops to avoid her eyes. "You shouldn't be intimidated by his somewhat unpleasant manner. It is more the weight of the many generations of the house of Malfoy that makes him speak as if we were all his servants. He is very forthright. It is true he sometimes likes to demonstrate his wit at the expense of others, but I often find him quite funny."

"Funny?" she had almost spat, making him turn. "That boy doesn't have the wit of a pickled toad. He couldn't say anything humorous if his life depended on it. All he ever does is say mean things and hurt people. You, on the other hand, never put people down, and are so much more clever than he and his mates will ever be."

Now he had felt downright embarrassed. "Surely, you aren't trying to use flattery on me?" he had said, grinning awkwardly.

When she smiled back, he added, "I guess maybe he is a bit of an arrogant bastard sometimes."

"Oh, Severus! Don't let McGonagall catch you using words like that," she had said, now smiling broadly.

"Well," he thought, "I guess I'm not like that anymore." This was so long ago it seemed now. She was dead, and he had since ventured all the way to the edge of the abyss and let himself fall.

He thought she had probably hit pretty well on the reason for his friendship with the Slytherin bad boys, though. For all the supreme confidence and arrogance of Lucius Malfoy and his mates Bellatrix, Rookwood and Dolohov, they knew they didn't have half the talent put together of one Severus Snape. He had known back then how to do the things they only talked about and dreamed they would once master. They had needed him as much as they envied him, and he had stayed for the love of the Dark Arts.

When she had continued she had nearly come a bit too close to the truth.

"Most of the people in Gryffindor are a bit scared of him," she had said. "They say he's really into the Dark Arts. Some even say he's been practising illegal curses." She had given him a long and searching look that had made him wonder what the people in Gryffindor might have been saying about him.

"The Dark Arts can be really interesting to study," he had answered.

"What is so interesting about killing Muggle-borns?" she had said then in a very low voice, looking at the ground.

"It is important to understand so that we can defend ourselves against it, I mean," he had tried.

"Yes, I guess it is," she had replied in the same low voice, her mood subdued.

He had known right then that it would have been impossible to explain it to her, about the power and the obsession, the constant curiosity, the vengefulness. As the Muggles and Muggle-borns were always on the receiving end, they could hardly be expected to understand, and it was evil, he knew as much already. He had so hated being powerless. Could she ever have understood the lure?

Then there was the memory of that time by the lake, his darkest moment, he thought.

He remembered how the day had started in the Great Hall.

For someone from Slytherin House to walk up the Gryffindor table would be enough to make quite a few heads turn in those days, especially if the peculiar Severus Snape were to walk up to one of the prettiest and most popular girls.

On that day, when she looked up at him and smiled, he had forgotten all about it, though.

"Hello, Severus!" she had greeted him. "How are you?"

"Quite well, or actually, this day was quite dreary, until I saw you, that is, then it picked up," he had said, smiling back at her.

Her smile had widened a bit more at the compliment.

Her friends at the table had stopped eating and had been looking at him. He had made an effort to ignore them.

A little quickly, he had said, "I wonder if perhaps you would like to go for a walk with me a bit later. The sunset by the lake can really be worth watching at this time of the year." Adding, "It has been some time since I talked to you."

"Well, Severus, are you asking me out?" she had answered, smiling mischievously.

He had gone red and had concentrated hard on looking at her, avoiding the stares from the people around them.

"The lake is outside, so I suppose maybe I am," he had tried to joke. "You're welcome to visit the Slytherin Common Room though, if that would suit you better."

The thought had seemed to make her shudder.

"I'll see you a bit later then," he had said. He had then turned to leave before the stares had managed to erode his confidence completely.

It had been so much easier to talk to her when it was only the two of them, and the lake had been rather beautiful in the sunset.

"It is really quite brilliant here," she had said. "Lets not go to near the Dark Forest, though."

"Why? Don't you like the forest?" he had said, feeling a little surprised.

"It is scary, and we're not supposed to go in there," she had said.

"I think it is quite beautiful," he had replied. She had looked sceptical. "Really, it's like a cathedral or something, with those high trees. It is also really peaceful and quiet.

"'For the heart whose woes are legion
Tis a peaceful, soothing region,'" he had quoted.

"Really peaceful, until some dirty big monster turns up to gobble you down for breakfast," she had said sarcastically.

He had laughed at that.

"You do seem drawn to all sorts of dark and scary things," she had continued. "Why is that? Don't you like happy and pretty things?"

"I'm here with you, aren't I?" he had replied.

"So you see me as a pretty thing?" she had teased.

"No, a happy, pretty thing," he had teased her back.

But when her eyebrows had started to narrow he had added quickly, "I happen to think you are extraordinary, and you are happy most of the time."

"Well, it so happens that I too can be serious and artistic if I should want to. I'm not just a giggling schoolgirl who would think of nothing but how to do my hair, or swoon when handsome young men pass by," she had said testily.

They had reached the edge of the forest by then, and the sun had set almost completely. She had walked on into the forest making a point of showing no hesitation, walking a little closer to him though, which he had noted that he didn't mind at all.

"Don't worry," he had said. "Even I sometimes think about my hair. Should I wash it today or maybe wait until New Year. I usually go for the latter since it is so much less trouble."

She had laughed then, and the tension had lifted.

As they walked on, she had told him about an art gallery she had visited in London.

He had made sure to interject a few questions so she could seem knowledgeable of these things; he had sensed it was somehow important to her.

In connection with the outing to London, she had talked a little about her family. He remembered wondering what they would have thought if she had brought him to visit. They had had a few years to get used to the wizarding world, but he had thought that maybe there were limits to their acceptance. He had, of course, been young in those days and probably looked a lot better and a great deal less dishevelled and worn than he did nowadays. His hair had always been long and un-kept though, and he generally favoured all black robes even on the days when Slytherin played Quidditch, to his fellow Housemates' great irritation. His piercing eyes had already been enough to send the more nervous first years running, and he was hardly handsome.

Only she had at times made him feel as if he might have been, or at least interesting in some way, even to look at. It was all a bit enigmatic the way she was pleased to spend time with him, but who could ever fathom the mysterious depths of the female mind?

He remembered having nudged himself mentally.

It wasn't as if she was going to bring him home to meet her parents anytime soon.

No matter.

It had been so nice to be outside and away from everywhere, and he had loved the way her eyes sparkled when the conversation was getting animated. The last rays of the dying sun had made her red hair glow like fire.

He had been starting to feel quite elated, thinking silly things.

It had also been interesting, actually, to hear about the Muggle world. He had wondered why he had never thought about what it was like to grow up there. There were so many things that seemed different, but some of the things those Muggles did were quite clever, really. Mostly he had let her talk on, hiding his ignorance by listening, and trying to put things together.

"Where are we going, Severus? It is getting very dark," she had said, bringing him out of his thoughts. "What is it that you want to show me?"

"Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters-lone and dead,
Their still waters-still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily," he had quoted once more, trying to look mysterious.

She had smiled at him when her name was mentioned, "Lolling, eh?"

"Oh, Severus! That is so beautiful!" she had exclaimed the next second, forgetting all about their conversation.

They had reached a clearing where the trees parted, revealing a very small lake that lay framed by the dark and majestic trees of the ancient dark forest. The moon had illuminated its completely still water making it glow silver. He had not believed their luck when he had seen a golden unicorn on the other shore among a few bushes, standing quietly, unaware of their presence.

"Shush," he had said, nudging her hand and pointing at the unicorn.

Instead of retreating, she had put her hand in his squeezing it lightly as they stood silently watching.

"And you didn't think the dark forest could be beautiful," he had whispered, very aware of how good it felt standing this close to her.

"I take it all back!" she had whispered back, leaning her head on his shoulder.

She is so beautiful, he remembered thinking. Am I falling in love with her?

Something made the unicorn stir, and it disappeared between the trees. After a while, the magic moment had been broken, and they had started to walk back towards the school.

They had walked in silence for a while, but when they emerged from between the trees of the dark forest, she had resumed talking.

"What does it mean?" she had asked. "About the waters still and chilly? Does it mean I am cold and unreachable?"

"No," he had replied. "I was merely trying to illustrate how the most desirable and beautiful things might sometimes hide in the most unreachable tracts."

"I stand in the snow like the ice princess I am, sticking my tongue out when black knights come courting. Or were you referring to my school ambitions?"

"You, my friend, are reading to many things into a few simple lines," he had answered, "but from what I hear, there may be a few broken hearts lying in pieces around the Hogwarts grounds, for the sake of a certain pair of green eyes."

She had looked at him, then out at the forest, and back again. "And what if the ice princess winks at the black knight. What would he do?"

"You have decided I am not an Eidolon named night then?" he had asked, pretending to still discuss the poem.

They had stopped for a moment to look at each other.

"Well, if she doesn't stop looking at him like that, he will melt," he had continued, smiling.

"Oh, you're always the gentleman." She had laughed. "Never taking advantage of a lady." Then adding quietly, "Even if she should so desire."

Suddenly a drawling voice had broken the silence.

"Well, if it isn't Severus Snape and his Mudblood girlfriend making out by the lake!"

The shock of hearing that voice had seemed to wipe his elated feeling so quickly it was frightening.

It had been Lucius Malfoy, flanked by Rookwood and Dolohov.

He had groaned inside over the rotten luck of meeting that rotten bastard out here.

She had made to let go of his hand, but he held on a little tighter.

"Don't call her that, Malfoy!" he had said angrily, staring at him.

Malfoy had half-turned towards his mates and continued, "I knew you were seeing each other, but I didn't know you were this serious about her." Rookwod and Dolohov chuckled beside them. "What do you think your father will have to say about your Mudblood girlfriend?"

"Leave my father out of this!" he had barked. "And don't call her Mudblood, you filthy..."

Maybe Lucius had been in a particularly foul and sour mood that evening because he had seemed to be going too far this time. Rookwod and Dolohov had sensed it. They had fallen silent, watching the two adversaries tensely.

"Let's go, Severus," she had said quietly beside him, but he had continued staring at Malfoy, who had continued the same loud voice.

"That would be an unbeatable scene, when you bring that Mudblood home for dinner! I expect he would cut you from his will."

He had just stood there, saying again through his clenched teeth, "Don't call her Mudblood."

He was feeling dangerously angry; he felt he had never hated anyone like he hated Malfoy at that moment.

Not getting quite the reaction he had wanted, Malfoy had then definitely gone too far.

"Well, Snape! How is your father these days?" he had continued in his drawling, taunting voice. "Have you told your Mudblood girlfriend about your father? Forgot to mention him, did you?"

Snape had stood frozen unable to answer, anger coursing through him like madness. Why did this unpleasant boy have to turn up now and destroy this magic moment, taunting him about his useless father in front of her?

When no one spoke, Lucius had continued, "So you haven't mentioned his little drinking problem, have you?"

Snape had now been so angry that his ears were ringing. She had looked between him and Lucius, looking bewildered and scared.

"Maybe I should tell your little Mudblood girlfriend about the last time you and your parents were at our house, Snape. Don't you think she would find that highly amusing?"

It was then that he had snapped. Mad with anger, he had raised his wand, yelling, "CRUCIO!"

He had never been able to do it before, but with the anger, hatred, and humiliation of all Malfoy's taunting, the pain, and injustice of his life and misfortunes behind it, it had worked.

It had been as if the dark night had exploded. A sense of power such as he had never known to exist. It had been like a mad, ecstatic fever, the most exhilarating sensation imaginable. He had felt as if a force had lifted him off the ground. His body had been filled with electricity, his hair standing on end; it had felt as if his blood was boiling. He had never known there could be something so powerful, the power over someone else's life. His wand had been alive with crackling flashes, illuminating the dark night and Lucius Malfoy as he lay on the ground, convulsing in pain and agony. Lucius had been screaming uncontrollably, his piercing screams filling the night and echoing over the still lake. He had wanted him to suffer, to be in pain. He had wanted all the pain he had ever felt in his life to leave the tip of his wand and hit Lucius Malfoy, the beautiful girl beside him momentarily forgotten. He had registered dimly how her eyes had widened in shock as she looked at his mad, feverish black eyes. Then she had turned and fled into the dark forest.

It had been the end of their friendship.

She had never told anyone he had performed an unforgivable curse, and he was grateful for that of course, since it would have meant expulsion from Hogwarts, or even a lifetime sentence in Azkaban if anyone had known, but she had never talked to him again after that. He had tried to approach her a few times, but she had just been silent and walked away from him, and she had always ignored him whenever they met in the Great Hall or on the grounds.

It was that one time much later when she had stood up for him. It was when that idiot James Potter had bullied him after their O.W.L exams. He had not used the Cruciatus Curse then, thankfully. With so many witnesses, he would never have been able to get away. He had not welcomed the help. Instead, he had called her a Mudblood, which had been awful of him, but he had always tended to lose it completely when he was publicly humiliated. There were too many times like the incident at the Malfoys' adding to the weight to make that burden bearable. Even though he had been sure she hated him by that time, he had nevertheless thought that he had seen real hurt in those interesting, beautiful green eyes.

There had been a lot less trouble from Lucius Malfoy. He was after all the type that respected the meanest bully on the school ground. He had seemed to treat Snape a lot better after the incident, in fear perhaps of having it repeated. He had started acting like they had always been the best of friends. Maybe he had wanted to be on the good side of someone he thought would someday become a powerful dark wizard. Alternatively, maybe it had been simply the respect for raw power. Severus Snape had secretly felt that he would have liked more to be respected for being someone who could not perform an illegal curse, even if he knew how, but had nevertheless welcomed having one tormentor less to deal with.

As he had drifted more and more towards the darkness over the following years, she had begun to date James Potter in their final year. To him, she had been a memory of what could not have been, but maybe the fact that someone had known and liked the good in him was what had saved him and brought him back in the end, that and Albus Dumbledore.

Then their boy had come to Hogwarts after so many years. He remembered how the staff room had been buzzing with anticipation. To him, it had been like having her eyes look back at him with the insolent, taunting stare of James Potter. The shock when the Sorting Hat had put him in Gryffindor. He had been sure Dumbledore had something to do with it. Why had Dumbledore not let him go to Slytherin House? After all, he had his trusted Severus Snape watching over any of the students being lured over to the dark side.

He should have been in Slytherin. For heaven's sake, the boy could talk to snakes!

There was a short knock on the door and then it opened.

"Shut the door behind you, Potter."