Chapter 10- Severse Snape (Part 1)

Chapter 10: Severus Snape (Part 1)

Few people knew this, but Severus Snape was most definitely a morning person – one of the few times a small smile could be seen gracing his lips was around the hour of six o'clock in the morning, as he sat at his oak and rosewood kitchen table watching the crimson-tinted sun rise. There was something about the delicate bite in the crisp air, the soft light, and the stillness of the gold-gilded world around him that made being in that moment seem...worthwhile.

He was hard pressed to smile that morning, however – September 1st was right around the corner, and once it came, he would have spend another year of his miserable life lecturing ungrateful, talentless brats who never ceased to amaze him by their stupidity. Ah, Hogwarts. What was once a haven away from his drunken bastard of a father and morbidly depressed mother had become the bane of his existence, and that was saying a lot - his existence wasn't a particularly happy one to begin with.

He sighed deeply as he sipped his cup of Darjeeling. Less than one more week of peace left; only a few more days to work on his most recent research project. Idly, he picked up the notes he had left on the table the night before, staring unhappily at the numbers he'd written down.

Adder's fork – 20 minutes

Eye of frog – 17 minutes

Claw of weasel – 12 minutes

All unsatisfactory. He needed the reaction time to rest well under 10 minutes (preferably under 5, but who was he kidding?), or else the essence of wormwood would end up spoiling and losing its potency, making the whole concoction little more than vile-smelling sludge. 10 minutes was a small window for a compound so stable, however. Indeed, this most recent project of his was a true challenge, and had the potential to hold his attention for quite a while. It was a shame...it was likely that he'd have to put it on hold; he never could quite think straight with Monday morning potions lectures hanging over his head. Unless...perhaps he needed an acidic neutralizing agent...essence of rose? Bluebell seeds?

He started as three sharp knocks sounded on his front door.

He scowled. Who could possibly be at his door at this hour? Really, who was that rude? He certainly wasn't expecting anyone. He had half a mind to hex whoever was waiting on the other side of his door. Honestly, they deserved it...

He took a deep breath. Come now, Severus, he told himself. It wouldn't do to start hexing muggles. He didn't need that on his record. After all, if he was going to be caught hexing someone, it was going to be those blasted Weasley twins.

He shook his head. Oh well, best get this over with.

When he opened the door, he was expecting to see a postman, perhaps, or a delivery man of some sort. The last thing he was expecting was to find a little boy standing on his doorstep. The child was dressed in loose-hanging, ratty clothing, beneath which he appeared to be quite bony and very much on the small side – he couldn't be older than 8 or 9 years old. He frowned. What was a child so young doing at his door, alone, at 6:30 am in the morning?

He was about to shoo the little cretin away when it looked up at him, an action that nearly caused him to gasp and stumble backward; for staring up at him through a messy black fringe, behind a broken pair of glasses, glowed two bright green eyes, a curious glimmer lighting them intensely. Two very familiar eyes. Eyes he didn't ever expect to see again. No...this couldn't possibly be...

"Hello, are you Mr. Severus Snape?" the boy asked without prelude, and apparently completely unintimidated by him.

Quickly, he snapped out of his shock. Green eyes, especially of this brilliant shade, were rare, but this was no doubt just another child, another insufferable spawn of one of his neighbours, most likely bothering him at this indecent hour on account of a dare or some such similar drivel.

"Yes," he drawled slowly, allowing his voice to darken in the way that always made his students pale in fright.

The boy, however, seemed completely unfazed. "Oh, good. My name's Harry Potter. May I come in?"

Severus's brain just about shut down completely at that. So much for his 'just another child' theory. "Harry...Potter?"

"Yes sir, that's me. Can I come in?"

Still too stunned to speak, he settled for stepping out of the doorway and allowing the young child to walk into his house.

He'd just allowed a Potter into his house.

"You have a lovely home Mr. Snape."

Severus stared at him.

"It's quite modest, and rather homey," the boy continued, rambling a bit (for, though fear was curiously absent from the child's countenance, nervous excitement was not), "Say, you wouldn't happen to be related to any Waynes, would you? I think it might be your general silhouette, but you rather remind me of -"

"Mr...Potter."

The boy paused in his nervous rant and simultaneous inspection of his kitchen. "Yes sir?"

"If you do not have any pressing business here...I'd ask you to kindly get out."

The boy looked up at him with...understanding? "Tom said you wouldn't be too happy to see me. He said you didn't like my dad too much. But that's ok. Tom says I take after my mother. He said you l-"

The child winced and rubbed his forehead, falling silent

Severus froze. The boy knew...about him and James Potter. The boy knew who he was. How? Hadn't Albus said he was living with muggles?

"Mr. Snape?"

Now that he looked more closely at the boy, he had to agree. He did take after his mother. His eyes...they were identical to Lily's. They held the same earnestness and cleverness, the same kindness. His beloved Lily's beautiful eyes...looking at him from James Potter's face. It was maddening.

"Why...are you here?" He decided to go with straight-forward.

"Tom said that you could help us."

That name again. "And who is this...Tom?"

"He's a friend of yours."

Friend? Severus had few 'friends' (if any), and most definitely none named Tom.

"He said you might not recognize the name," he sighed, "Perhaps you should speak to him yourself."

Severus was about to impatiently inquire as to where exactly this 'Tom' was, when the boy closed his eyes, seemingly frowning in concentration. He watched curiously as the boy's breath hitched and he stumbled over, before straightening his posture into a stance far more confident and rigid than what it had been. When the boy opened his eyes again, it was no longer Lily's vivacious green looking up at him – it was instead a very familiar crimson.

"Hello, Severus."

He stepped back, his heart hammering in his chest. "Look, Potter, I don't know what you're playing at, but -"

"Crucio."

He gasped, shock penetrating every fibre of his being as he fell to his knees, the sensation of white-hot knives slicing through him infecting every inch of flesh in his body. He bit his lip, to keep from crying out, but just as he started to taste copper in his mouth, it all stopped.

He looked up to find a malicious smile on the boy's face and a gleeful spark lighting his eyes. Such familiar eyes. Singularly unique eyes.

No, he told himself, no - it's not possible. The Dark Lord was dead...dead, along with his beloved Lily. Everyone knew that - it had been that way for nearly a a decade...

But...the Headmaster was quite convinced that the dark lord's demise was only temporary. So perhaps... perhaps it was not so impossible. That and...there was no way a 10 year old Harry Potter would be able to cast a wandless cruciatus curse without breaking a sweat. That definitely wasn't possible.

"Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate."

Really, the question was, what was more implausible? Harry Potter showing up out of nowhere with the uncanny ability to cast the cruciatus curse without a wand, or the Dark Lord possessing the child? Well, when he phrased it like that, the answer was obvious.

"M-my lord?"

The cruel smile did not leave Harry Potter's countenance.

"I...I don't understand...h-how...?"

"Perhaps another time, Severus. Right now, I require your skills."

He quickly bowed his head. "Anything, my lord."

He was grateful to have an excuse to look away; it was eerie – scratch that, downright disturbing – seeing those red eyes where Lily's had been a moment ago. Even more disconcerting was seeing that familiar, deceptively serene smile that had often graced the Dark Lord's face emanating from the countenance of his old enemy.

"Ah, Severus, faithful as ever. I will not waste any time. You do recall the potion you were working on shortly before my...demise?"

He nodded slowly, understanding slowly dawning on him. "Yes, my lord...I had called it the...Injicio Potion."

"Yes, that is the one. As I recall, it was nearly finished."

"After your...untimely demise, I finished the project on my own."

The boy...Dark Lord...looked at him curiously. "Oh?"

"Curiosity, my lord, got the better of me," he replied shakily.

"Ah Severus, ever the perfect scholar. It is just as well, for I require no less than 12 vials of this potion. I trust this will not be a problem."

"My lord, may I ask -"

"No, you may not. You will show me to your laboratory immediately."

Stiffly, Severus rose to his feet and silently gestured for the boy – no, Dark Lord – to follow him to the cellar he had converted into a potions laboratory.

His mind was spinning. Just minutes ago, Harry Potter had showed up at his front door. Harry Potter, who was, apparently, being possessed by the Dark Lord. So Albus had been right all along – he had returned; in the body of Harry Potter no less. Was the boy dead? No, of course not; he was standing there in front of him just a moment ago. He believed he was not wrong in his initial impression that it had, in fact, been Harry Potter standing on his doorstep. No, the Dark Lord's presence did not emerge until the boy suggested that he 'talk to' his 'friend Tom', of that he was quite sure. Somehow, the boy knew he was being possessed and was...at peace with it? The child seemed very aware of what was going on, and completely content with the whole affair. Something was very, very wrong with the whole situation. Well, of course something was wrong (after all, a 10 year old boy was being possessed by the Dark Lord), but something was wrong with how terribly wrong the whole thing was. The Dark Lord had somehow tricked the Potter boy into willfully and knowingly sharing his body with him, and now, the Dark Lord was walking around freely under the guise of Harry Potter. Albus needed to know about this...he needed to get away...without breaking his cover...

"I believe," he said nervously as he opened the door to his laboratory, "That I have all the ingredients I need here."

The Dark Lord raised his – rather, Harry Potter's – eyebrows with a subtle smile. "As I recall, this particular potion required some rare and...less than legal ingredients."

"Indeed, my Lord." He hoped his uninformative answer would not be taken as insolence.

Thankfully, the dark lord fell silent as he began to retrieve ingredients from his cupboards.

"How long will it take to brew?" The question sounded so innocent coming from the mouth of a child.

"Around two hours, my Lord. If you would like to return in two hours time, it will be ready then." That would give him enough time to contact the Headmaster.

"No, I will remain here...and you are not to leave my sight until the potion is finished."

Of course, the Dark Lord didn't trust him so quickly. The man had always been a bit mad, but he was never a fool. Certainly never a trusting fool. "Yes, my Lord."

Had his situation not been so treacherous, it would have been comical watching the Dark Lord clamber onto one of the tall chairs that stood across from his brewing station. But, as it were, it was not.

"So," the Dark Lord began in his newly acquired childish voice as he began to nervously dice elder roots, "What has been occupying your attentions of late, Severus?"

Well, there was no point in lying. "Teaching, my lord, at Hogwarts."

The Dark Lord didn't look too surprised at that. "Did Dumbledore give you that position after you went to him for help? After you betrayed me?"

He immediately ceased his chopping. Oh no...he was dead. He was going to die. The Dark Lord knew. He knew all along. Was the potion a ruse? Did he come here with the intent of killing him? "M-my lord?" he breathed out hoarsely.

"Oh come now, Severus, let's not pretend. I threatened the life of the woman you loved. You would have been a fool to trust me to spare dear, sweet Lily Potter, and I would have been a fool to expect you not to betray me for her. So that leaves us here; you, having betrayed me, and I, very well aware of your betrayal," the Dark Lord said easily, as though it were the most simple matter in the world.

He really didn't know what to say to that, and nearly had a heart attack when he heard boyish cackles coming from the small figure in front of him.

"Oh Severus, do not worry yourself. I won't kill you...yet. Your servitude and loyalty, should they be given once again freely, of your own accord, will buy you time. Plenty of time, I imagine, if you...fail to disappoint me."

He paused for a moment, before a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sure you will find it in your heart to overcome the hatred for me that has no doubt festered in your heart all these years. After all, I really did show Lily Potter mercy, I gave her the chance to step aside...she just...refused my kindness," he finished with a cruel grin.

Severus grit his teeth silently, as a strange emotion akin to both anger and grief coursed through him.

"So calm yourself, Severus, and brew me my potion, and I may yet show you mercy."

He closed his eyes, calming himself as he reached for his bottle of essence of wormwood.

For a while, he was allowed to go about his task in peace; indeed, had nearly finished preparing ingredients when his lord's now childish voice spoke up once again.

"Severus, I have another task for you."

He looked up from his crushed raven's beak cautiously.

"Harry would like you to tell him about his mother."

And here he was thinking this day could not get any worse.

"M-my Lord, I'm not sure that -"

"Come now, Severus, indulge the boy. The poor child can't remember his mother...as you well know. Every child deserves to know their mother, do you not think so? It is the least he could ask of you...I am sure you haven't forgotten the part you played in the tragedy that was the murder of Lily and James Potter."

"My lord, is the boy..."

"He lies dormant inside this body, right now. He can hear and see everything that I do, however. I assure you, your words will not fall on deaf ears."

So the child...listened on as the Dark Lord spoke so mockingly of his dead mother. He could not help but feel sorry for James Potter's son. Merlin help him. He was feeling sorry for the spawn of James Potter.

"Severus, he's waiting."

He sighed shakily. "I met Lily Evans in the summer of..." He paused, suddenly unsure of himself. What does one say about a mother to a child that holds no memories of her? How could he possibly do justice to his old friend when her son knew nothing of her? What could he say about the woman he loved...and then betrayed? Lily deserved to be known by her child, that much was certain...but she deserved so much better than what he could give.

He wished he could paint a picture worthy of his beloved Lily, he wished...

"Severus, don't tell me you've forgotten about her already."

Oh, of course he hadn't – but it was too painful to bring those memories to the surface. Explaining to the boy who his mother was to him...would be like ripping his still beating heart out of his chest and crushing it slowly.

He heard the Dark Lord sigh. "Dear me, Harry, I think we broke him...not to worry, though – we can put him back together...imperio."

"Now, Severus, be a good boy and brew me my potion while you recite the history of one Lily Potter nee Evans. In the fullest detail."

So that's exactly what he did. He tried to distance himself from the words leaving his nearly quivering lips, but he could not entirely shut out the sound of his retelling of the life of Lily Evans. He didn't want to hear it, not again. He wanted to shut it out. He wanted to forget. But forgetting her would be tantamount to burning that very same heart being ripped out of his chest – it was an act of dying, and he was not ready to die just yet. He still had work to do.

But then again...

If the Dark Lord already had the boy in his grasp, what more could he do? Albus was quite clear that the boy was the only one who could defeat the Dark Lord, so if that was out of the question...what hope was there? No, perhaps his work was finished – perhaps there was no one left to protect. In which case...

He would welcome the death his former master cast upon him. There was no greater purpose, no profound moral, no prospect of happiness, no future life – there was only the light behind him and the present darkness. He'd had his chance to be happy, and he'd squandered it. And now, there was nothing left. It was poor penance for what he had done, but perhaps being murdered by the hand of the boy whose mother he loved and then betrayed would absolve him of but a portion of his guilt before the end. Yes, he would welcome death, and the irony that wrought it.

"Imbuere," the Dark Lord intoned, as he pointed his wand at the shimmering blue substance bubbling in his cauldron.

He could not help the surprise that came over his face when he saw that the wand was, indeed, the Dark Lord's own wand.

His surprise did not go unnoticed.

"Ah, yes, my wand. Harry was kind enough to fetch it for me when we visited his parents just the other day."

Disgust coiled in his stomach as he obediently bottled the dangerous elixir he'd just brewed. He knew that the Dark Lord was not a kind man...but to play with a parentless child, giving him the barest taste of what had been stolen from him...it was cruel. Beyond cruel. Harry Potter may have been the heir of James Potter, but he didn't deserve to watch the grave of his parents defiled by the presence of their murderer, or listen for hours to stories of his mother told by the man who had betrayed her – he certainly did not deserve to have his very body and future stolen from the same man...monster that had taken everything else from him. It was becoming harder and harder to resent this unfortunate child.

His thoughts were interrupted when the Dark Lord, in the boy's small body, stood on his toes to gather the vials he'd laid on his workstation and placed them in the small red backpack he was carrying with him.

When he finished the delicate process of packing the 12 vials away, two crimson eyes turned to him once again. "Lord Voldemort thanks you, Severus. Your..." a shark-like grin split the Dark Lord's face, "...loyalty will not be forgotten."

"Thank you, my lord." He took a deep breath. "Should you require anything else -"

"Indeed, there is one last thing I require of you. Kneel."

Severus dropped to his knees without a second thought.

This is it, he thought, This is the end.

In a strange fit of appropriate irony and just desserts, the voice of the son of Lily Evans and James Potter was about to enunciate the words that would mark his end...at long last.

"You have served me well. Even so, I cannot have you announcing my return just yet."

Wait, what?

"My lord, I would never -" he began on reflex.

"I know, I know. Alas, it cannot be helped. Obliviate."