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Porcelain Doll	By : emymsm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 13205 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Author's Note:I thought that perhaps I should state that this story was actually originally planned as a one-shot. However, the plot sort of grew and the story padded itself out and I found myself being forced to break it up into chapters.
My one weakness is that I haven�t the commitment to finish any novel length fics. So one of my main concerns here is that I would not be able to finish Porcelain Doll. But I am pretty confident that I can (so far, anyway) as I am very proud of my baby.
To those of you hoping that this is indeed going to be a novel length piece of fiction with forty over chapters, I feel obligated to tell you now that it will not be so. As I have said, this was originally planned as a one-shot. I am estimating that the most chapters Porcelain Doll would have is four or five.
Sorry to disappoint, but I do not want to expand this until it reaches a climax and then my inspiration and zeal fizzles out unceremoniously, resulting in this piece of work being abandoned.
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Porcelain Doll

I. Condono

(To Forgive)
Severus took in a long shuddering breath and rubbed his face tiredly, distractedly noting the stubble on his chin. He glanced at the old time-piece hanging on the wall before standing and making his way to the cauldrons. His movements lacked his usual feline grace as he cast a quick Cooling Charm and began to bottle the potions. He swallowed his aggravation and bit his cheek to prevent himself from voicing out an obscene curse when the ladle he was holding slipped from trembling fingers and clattered to the stone floor, splattering his already distressed robes with the brew.
Lucius delivered a sharp kick to her side, which extracted a pained yelp. �Show you respect, Mudblood. Imperio!�
She jolted upright when the spell hit her and then she stared up at them with wide, glazed eyes. She cocked her head to the side, as if listening to the instructions whispering around her head and seducing her mind. The muscles in her hands contracted in spasms, causing her fingers to twitch ferociously as she struggled to fight off the curse. And then jerkily, the spell exercising its hold over her, she crawled on all fours to Severus. He felt a cold anger rise within him and he itched to hex everyone in the vicinity for forcing her to do this� to grovel in the dirt. He resisted the urge and stayed his hand, settling his expression to its customary sneer as she dipped her head, the tips of her curls trailing through the mire, and pressed her lips to his boots.
The was a thin film of humiliated tears glistening in the brown orbs as she sat back at on her heels and gazed back at him, her hands clasped and rested on her knees.
�Is she not a darling pet, Severus? Why don�t you reward her? Give her a biscuit and perhaps a little rub, Severus.�
It was almost like an Imperio; he had little choice but to comply. He held the disconcertingly blank stare and patted her head. �Good girl,� he murmured, sneering contemptuously for the benefit of the other Death Eaters. An indignant flame rose before the dark eyes before the Imperious quelled her rebellion and she butted him with her head when he removed his hand, demanding more degrading attention. He laughed along with the other, though he felt the sickness inside.
A quiet dry sob escaped his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to force the image away. He stooped to pick up the silver ladle, white fingers groping the floor for the handle as his vision clouded murkily. The pads of his digits brushed the ground, sweeping left and right as he defiantly refused to liberate the tears that had collected in his eyes. He straightened and brushed a sleeve brusquely across his cheeks and returned to bottling the potions.
His usually calligraphic writing lacked its expressive flair as he labelled the many vials. When finally, the last of the vials were labelled and neatly arranged on the table, he saw that it was close to four in the morning. He brushed his lank hair from his face and felt exhaustion roll over him like a tidal wave when he stood. Severus gripped the edge of the table as his vision swam and he waited for the room to settle. He staggered across the room to the bed, all the sinews in his aching body objecting greatly to every movement. He did not bother to remove his footwear or even consider a change of clothes, sliding directly between the cool sheets and closed his eyes.
Immediately, the dreams began�
�Don�t,� her tone was worn and broken, her voice scratchy when she squeezed out the monosyllabic plea from her raw throat. She shied away when he knelt on one knee next to her, ignoring the protestations of his rigid joints, his sinews still stiff with the after effects of an Unforgivable. His cool fingers traced the prominent cheekbones. A small frown creased his white forehead when he noted the hollowness of her cheeks. She was alarmingly thin; her half-starved appearance and her pale and dry skin attenuate this emaciation, testimony of the infrequent times they remembered to feed her. Her body had started to consume itself; stripping her muscles of tissue protein before moving on to her organs.
He sat on the floor, resting his back against the wall and wrapped a hand firmly around her upper arm and pulled her gently against his chest. She protested, though only feebly, but soon settled in his lap, accepting what heat his body could offer her. She closed her eyes in a resigned fashion, although her hand remained in tight fists in her lap. His probing fingers were gentle and he slipped his hand under the tattered remains of her blouse. He pressed the pads of his fingers lightly on her ribs, carefully running his digits along the bones. She jerked in his arms when he rubbed a protruding bump. Severus applied a little more pressure, pulling back hastily when she cried out.
�You have a severely broken rib, Granger.�
She sucked in a shallow breath, wincing openly at the stabbing pain. �I know, Professor.� Hermione�s answer was forced out behind gritted teeth. Severus thought it was morbidly fascinating that despite the fact that he has forced himself upon her, she had kept to the use of his professional title. He wondered if this was the fault of habit; she was his student after all, and he was her Potions instructor. He was quite certain that her calling him �Professor� was anything but because of respect � not after that night.
He had taken her respect and invariably lost his.
Still, he pondered philosophically, perhaps it was her way of distancing herself mentally from him. Detachment was never the Gryffindor�s strong point, but perhaps this was one way she was doing it. How much more impersonal can it get than addressing one in such a way?
He shelved the mental discussion and turned his attention instead to the witch. With slight hesitation, he encircled a strong arm around her stomach and stood, pulling her to her feet at the same time. He allowed her a few seconds to claim her footing before unwrapping his arm from her waist. She made no move to turn around so he laid his hand on her shoulders and slowly spun her to face him. Her brown eyes were dull and listless and she stared at a point past his shoulder.
Severus looked away quickly, unable to stand the empty void, the soulless pools. He drew out his wand and discerned how she went very still suddenly, her breathing forcibly slow. There was a small spark of something � of life, perhaps - in the wide-glassy eyes. He guided the wand to his left; carefully keeping its tip averted from her, and swung it in a low arch, dragging it slowly through the air to the right. All this time, his black eyes watched her keenly. Hermione was eyeing the wand with astute wariness. Her head was held stubbornly high, with a slight tilt of her chin showing defiance. The brown eyes were narrowed into unforgiving slits, following the wand�s journey. He almost smiled, almost � this was the famous Godric Gryffindor courage, the annoying trait most students in the lion�s house carried. Gryffindor courage� or stupidity, depending on one�s perspective.
Her eyes snapped up to meet his suddenly, glittering in the dark. �Professor Snape,� she spat venomously, drawing herself taller, forgetting about her injured ribs momentarily. Her sudden sharp intake of breath was the only warning Severus needed to hurry to her side, hands reaching out to steady her as she wobbled unsteadily.
�Don�t touch me!� She stumbled backwards, fear and pain flashing across her tight expression before she duck her head, looking down at her bare feet, using her matted hair to shield her face. She had backed herself into the corner and she pressed her back against the cool wall, one palm placed on the wall to brace and steady herself.
Severus held out his hands, palms up, and took cautious, measured steps towards her. She was panting from both exertion and pain, eyes peeping from behind the dirty curtain of hair. He was struck suddenly with the disturbing connotations of the scene - how wild she looked, the desperate eyes darting frantically from side to side searching for some means of escape. Her unruly hair was a devastatingly messy halo, framing her face, further accenting her unhealthy pallid complexion and protruding cheekbones. She was tense, her weight mostly on the balls of her feet, ready to spring away.
Cornered and frightened animals bite, he remembered, and though he seriously doubted she would try that, he slowed his steps and unconsciously started to make low soothing noises at the back of his throat, as one might make, whilst attempting to attend to a hurt dog.
He found himself suddenly caught in a moment of indecision � should he risk what little trust she has (if she had any at all) for him and stun her, so he may tend to her injuries proficiently? Or coax her from her corner with false hopes and empty promises and shatter her again after repairing her? Gentle persuasion to build fragile trust. Or trust be damned, so he may treat her wounds before they get infected and poison her blood?
Hermione inadvertently made the decision for him when she suddenly lunged forward, fingers outstretched to snatch his wand.
�Stupefy!�
She tried to avoid the spell, attempting to twist out of the way but it hit her on her side. Her momentum carried her a little forward, and she slumped into his chest, a look of fear flickering across her face just before her eyes rolled back in her sudden loss of consciousness. He was just quick enough to hook an arm under hers to break her fall, pocketing his own wand and he reach to cradle her head with his other hand and laid her gently on the hard stones. He sat back and took a minute to study her in the silvery moonlight that filtered ungenerously through the rusty bars of the high window. Her ivory skin was tarnished with harsh bruises and lacerations. He shifted slightly and reached out to brush away a lock of knotted hair that fell of one side of her face, hiding her eye. Her lips were dry and chapped, dark red scabs clinging to the corners of her mouth. His eyes were automatically drawn to the fierce slash that started at her right earlobe, its tail twisting to an end on the opposite shoulder. The skin was puckered, healing slowly and it was obvious that there would be a hideous scar.
He pushed aside this superficial examination and started instead on her hurts, starting first on the numerous broken bones she had. He worked meticulously; systematically healing her injuries and taking mental notes on the potions he may have to bring to her. As he dug out the thin slivers of glass embedded deep under her toenails (Severus suspected this to be the handiwork of Mulciber in one of his more sadistic moods) and carefully popped each off her ten fingers back into their sockets, smoothing a think layer of greasy analgesic balm to ease the pain and help with the healing process, he found himself growing increasingly concern for Hermione�s mental and emotional damage.
�Enervate.�
She gasped and arched off the floor, her eyes flying open and she gazed around frantically, pulling the folds of her blouse over her exposed flesh. He was not aware that he was resting his hand on her knee until she pulled her legs from under his touch and scooted away. �Miss Granger� Hermione�� She stared back distrustingly at him. Her expression changed to one of wonder and perplexity as she looked down at her fingers, now liberally coated in a thick orange substance she recognised and dimly connected to the somewhat happier times with her accident prone friends of the wizarding world � Bruise removal paste. She spared him a quick glance before tearing open her blouse, ignoring as the last of her buttons ricocheted off the walls from the force of her attention, not seeing the odd expression on Severus�s features before she probed her ribs, gingerly at first, expecting sharp agony. Her delicate investigation graduated to a more pernicious prodding of her previously injured bone. �Wha�what�Why?� She dragged up her shredded skirt, not caring or noticing that it bunched uncomfortably around her waist, or that it bordered on the inappropriate. There was a large shiny scar on her thigh, where Lucius had plunged his dagger in a malicious experiment to see if she bled blood like any normal witch or wizard.
�Why? Whywhywhy?� Her voice cracked and she sobbed, pounding her tiny fists onto the raised ridges of the scar with each utterance to channel across the question she could not lend further voice to. He caught her hands, swallowing her fists with his cool palms.
�Shh�Hermione�� The use of her name left a strange lingering taste in his mouth � it was alien and more than slightly disconcerting. It also felt distinctly inappropriate; uncomfortably personal and intimate� Hermione� He studied her speculatively with shuttered eyes � not much of the eager-to-please girl here he remembered from the first day he set eyes upon her in the potions dungeon classroom. A highly intelligent woman unfortunately caught by the wrong side of the war and made to suffer merely because she had an �unfavourable heritage.� She was the very embodiment of defiance against the Dark Lord�s pureblood mentality. Hermione Granger, probably the brightest witch Hogwarts had ever seen, possibly even the cleverest witch anyone has seen this century, was a half-blood; impure and in the linear judgement of those inbred ignorant fools, an abomination, a stain on the very fabric of the magical world. She defied the irrational logic of the �traditionalists.� Severus had encountered a few Squibs in his years: children of the supposed �approved� marriage arrangements. It did not take one of high calibre or a First Class Order of Merlin to discover that the combination of blood and powerful heritage did not always equal magical genius. This shivering young woman, complete with in-disciplinable bushy hair and sometimes flighty attitude, was a formidable witch.
They both stiffened when they heard footsteps approach, the smart clicking of heels against the floor in quick measured steps. A low murmur and the numerous wards to the cramped cell were dropped. Severus stood, turning to face the newcomer, his countenance schooled into a neutral expression. A sharp face appeared around the door, the dark eyes glittering. Bellatrix Lestrange stepped lightly into the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. The piercing eyes barely flickered to register the silent witch in the corner before fixing onto the man before her.
�Severus,� she purred, twisting her head to the side, the soft glow of the moon highlighting her high cheekbones and the sculptured arch of her neck. He unconsciously shifted his weight to his right, as if to shield Hermione with his own body. A small smirk touched her lips as she dipped her head, a few tendrils of dark hair falling loose from the elegant bun at the nape of her neck, and swept him an elaborate curtsy; a mark of respect from a member of one of wizarding society�s most venerable houses � the Lestranges � to another. He inclined his head and accepted it with dignity.
�Bella,� he returned, touching his lips to the proffered hand before straightening. �To what do I owe this pleasure?�
�Finding you here was a slight surprise, actually,� she replied, reaching to brush the dust coated lapels of his black woollen robes. He grunted and jerked his head to the side when her manicured talons scraped his chin in a manner he suspected was not altogether accidental. The sultry pout of her wine-coloured lips curled into a sneer and a hard look entered her eyes. Severus marvelled at the swift change in the woman. She had swept into the room, her expensive tailored gown swirling around her ankles, carrying herself with the grace of nobility on her slim shoulders. But now, the beautiful face was twisted with hatred as her gaze settled on Hermione. �I did not notice you leaving tonight�s festivities� I suppose that the two of you were getting better acquainted.� She sneered.
His fingers twitched in his robe pockets at the veiled intimation. He did not acknowledge or deny the allegation, but she took his silence as confirmatory.
�What are you doing?� he asked, his tone was sharp when she drew out her wand. She shushed him, lifting a hand to press her fingers to his lips. He stood stiffly as she nuzzled his neck, crushing her breasts shamelessly against his chest as she rubbed her nose against the stubble on his jaw. �You have the honour of witnessing my newest curse � not even our Master has had this privilege, Severus,� she breathed into his ear. Her tongue flicked the air and tasted his earlobe. �Concoquo Cruor.� The curse was directed at Hermione.
A thin string of scarlet light struck her in the chest. Immediately, she started screaming, gouging at her own skin. �Blood Boiling Curse, I call it,� she murmured softly, a grim smile of satisfaction on her lips.
�End it,� he said softly, unable to wrestle his gaze away from the transfixing sight. �End it!� he demanded, louder this time. When she made no move to lift the curse, he pivoted on his heels and took a menacing step forward, using his commendable height to tower over her. He glared fiercely at her and in a tone that resonated quiet danger, he ordered, �Damn it, Bella. End it now.�
She gave him a cold calculating look. �I see�� she breathed, eyes narrowed. �You are fond of her then?�
He growled, his eyes darting to glance at Hermione convulsing with agony. �She is mine.� She barely faltered at his angry possessiveness, possibly seeing through his fa�ade. With a flick of the wand and a low murmur of the counter-curse, Bellatrix released her from the clutches of the spell. She gave Severus one last look before turning to go. �Play with her if you must; break the porcelain doll and then rearrange the pieces to your liking later. Latch onto her neediness and dependency if it feeds and strengthens you. But do not forget what the wench is: a Mudblood, nothing more. She is not worthy of your more sincere of attentions. I can clearly see that she amuses you and I will not deny you a little pleasure. But it would not do for you to get too attached to the creature � the Dark Lord will not be pleased. Remember my words, Severus.�
�Get out.� He held himself stiffly until she left. A low moan attracted his awareness back to Hermione. She was rocking on her heels, face pressed into her palms. There were unsightly blisters all along her arms, some of which had already ruptured and steadily oozed thick brownish liquid. Severus almost choked when a soft breeze filtered through the room, sweeping the unmistakeable smell of cooked blood along in its wake. He neared her and knelt by her side.
�It � It hurts; my eyes, Se - Severus�� Her voice was tiny and it cracked on the unexpected use of his name. He was surprised to be addressed as so at such a time and was further startled, when she flung herself at him, arms desperately clinging to his neck, her fingers burying deep into his dark hair as she pressed her face into his voluminous robes. After an awkward moment of rigidity, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gently rocked her. As he continued to soothe her, he reflected on her sudden application of his given name.
�Let me see,� he whispered softly. She was unresisting when he carefully pried her arms off his shoulders and pushed her away, laying one hand lightly on her shoulder to steady her unbalanced state. She was not looking at him, her face was partially covered by her hair and was downcast and to the side. He slid a palm under her chin and tilted her face to meet his eyes. The white shaft of moonlight bathed her features and he made to tuck her curls behind her ears. His breath caught painfully in his chest. Her rich brown eyes were missing from her face. In their place were now the gaping hollows of her eye sockets, crusty blood clinging to her lashes.
His eyes flew open and he thrashed violently, getting hopelessly entangled in the sheets. He was drenched in perspiration and his sweat stung his eyes. He blinked wildly in the pitch black room and attempted to sit up. He endeavoured to stand and in his haste, the coverings had coiled around his legs and he stumbled. He crashed to the floor, cursing inventively when he landed on his already injured knee.
�Are you alright?� asked a concerned voice.
Severus whipped towards the sound and narrowed his eyes, trying to discern the identity of the shadowy figure hovering uncertainly by the wingchair. He cursed again, this time in a harsh whisper and picked himself up. He didn�t bother to hide the grimace as he flexed his protesting joints, and groped in the dark for his wand.
�Lumos.�
Harry blinked owlishly at him, holding up a forearm to shade his eyes. If it was possible, Severus thought that his typical tumble of untidy hair was even messier, and the wizard�s collar was askew and his robes dreadfully crumpled.
�What are you doing here?� demanded the older man, glaring down at him. Harry squinted at him and made a face. �D�you mind?� he asked, gesturing with his other hand at the lighted wand.
Severus gnashed his teeth in irritation and lowered his wand. �Nox.� With a quick wave, the torches in the brackets sprang to life, bathing the room in a warm glow. He glowered with liquid assurance at the adolescent. �Well?�
Harry regarded him silently for a moment before sighing, reaching up with one hand to automatically brush away errant strands of his dark hair that curled on his forehead. Severus retained his stiff stance, studying Harry.
There was so much difference in this young man of twenty three than he had remembered. Gone was the gawky appearance of a young boy, thrust suddenly into a world whose society placed him on a gilded pedestal with demandingly high expectations. He was no longer the rash adolescent, rushing head first into danger. Severus conceded infinitesimally to himself that though the trait might be considered valiant, admirable and courageous, it simply bordered on the recklessness. All brawn and no brains. Gryffindor at its finest. Severus smirked inwardly, his polished dark eyes glinting in the shadows.
The Gryffindor straightened, as if sensing the evaluation. He held his head high and drew back his shoulders; leaning heavily towards a proud posture. Severus inhaled sharply and reared back. It was uncanny. The similarities between father and son were painfully apparent. James Potter had often held himself in the same way. Severus�s lips drew back into a silent snarl of dislike even as his mind registered belatedly the small teasing cadence on Harry�s expression.
Severus spun away, feeling foolish that he had taken the bait. He did not witness the slumping of the younger man�s shoulders or the shameful flush that crept up his face.
When the potions master reacted unfavourably to the jest, Harry realised a little too late that Severus had read too much on the surface to see the sincere layers beneath. In a time frame of a mere few seconds, Severus had drawn his shroud of cold detachment around his shoulders once more. Harry angrily berated himself, immediately putting two and two together and inferred that the pose he had struck moments before probably dragged up some unfavourable memories.
�Sir�� Harry began, uncertain if he should chance an explanation. He drew back with a start when the older wizard turned with an impressive swirl of black material, his features contorted into a hateful sneer.
�What do you want, you tiresome boy?�
Harry blinked, stung by the caustic question hissed at him. After a short moment, he spoke with a tinge of poignancy, �I am not who you think I am.�
�I beg your pardon, Potter?�
�I am not my father. I know, sir, what my father was really like. You were right; he is just as you had painted him � arrogant, conceited. His group of friends are hardly faultless either.�
The younger wizard looked up and saw that the Potion Master had his face averted from him, his thin shoulders hunched. Folded into himself in that manner, the man actually looked frail and vulnerable. It was most disconcerting for Harry to witness, for this was not the same man that seemed to relish towering over terrified students as they worked feverishly to produce acceptable potions. This was not the same man, that by his act of disparaging contempt in class, seem to overtly exhibit his belief that teaching a roomful of dunderheads is the eighth circle of hell.
�Sirius is probably the one to instigate the others against you� and then there was that prank when you were in sixth year�� Harry trailed off, catching the hard light that flashed across Severus�s onyx orbs.
�They are gone, sir, my father my godfather. Dead and gone.� His voice caught a little, but he cleared his throat and continued fiercely, �They were wrong and what they did, unprovoked in most circumstances, their actions, have been neglected to be treated accordingly. On behalf of James Potter and Sirius Black and the rest of the Marauders, I apologise. I apologise for the pain and humiliation that you have suffered.�
Severus was staring at him with an expression of such amazement on his features that Harry found himself hard-pressed not to laugh aloud. Harry shook his head slightly. �But now, sir, I must charge you of being prejudiced,� he declared, a small smile on his lips to reduce the sting of his words. �Your bigotry has blindsided you and ever since the moment I have stepped foot into Hogwarts, you have detested me. You saw me not as I am; as the young boy who was suddenly tossed into the deep turbulent waters of the wizarding world and its infernal politics. You have already painted the mask of my father�s face and his actions upon my own. Sir� professor� Severus�� His tone was beseeching and his emerald eyes were alight with the fervour of the moment of his impassioned speech. �I am not my father. I am not James Potter. I am me; Harry� Harry Potter.�
There was a long moment of silence before Severus spoke, his tone richly coated with quiet respect. �I admire you, Harry � Yes, I do. Kindly not imitate a goldfish, boy; it is entirely unbecoming for a hero of the wizarding world. You must forgive me for the sudden use of your given name, but I cannot abide to tie the name Potter to yourself after you have thus bared yourself to me. I maybe petty or irrational, but I cannot in anyway separate you from the unpleasant memories I have of your father if I continue the use of your family name. But I have strayed from my original train of thought; I admire your ability to articulate your sentiments. While my vocabulary may be far more extensive than yours, I do not find it easy to convey my thoughts and feelings. Perhaps I lack the practice or the courage.�
The man in front of Harry who usually held his emotions under strict reins had a surprising array of colourful expressions when the canvas that was his face was unveiled. Severus paused, feeling rather awkward all of a sudden. The blinds that shuttered the windows to his soul started to automatically draw shut again but Severus consciously forced them open. He drew in a tired breath, feeling as if the dark wool of his robes was tightening against his chest, constricting his breathing. He edged around the low table to sink into the armchair with the kind of boneless elegance that Harry secretly envied. He sat opposite the brooding man and when Severus lifted his eyes to meet his, he cocked his head and nodded, to encourage the older man.
�You must think me weak to expose myself in such a manner to you, Pot � Harry.�
Harry shook his head. �For once, sir, you are wrong. Barely ten minutes ago, you told me that you admired me. Now I feel that I must return that compliment. It is my turn to admire you.�
Severus nodded slowly, a look of immense relief flickered across his face for the briefest of moments.
�You have charged me with being prejudiced against you. To this crime, I plead guilty. In my only defence, I can only state that you look too much like your father for my liking. Had you not your mother�s eyes, I can comfortably swear that I would�ve hexed you well into the next millennia without second thought. The unsavoury memories I have of James Potter held an omnipotent sway over me. I was the slave, not the master, of an impulse I wanted strongly to disobey, but could not.
�I am but a bitter, petty man, Harry. My unhappy childhood and friendless existence has driven a nail into my soul. And there it has and rusted and poisoned me, I fear. I used to have a heart, but it has shrivelled in its cage of torment and misery and self-loathing. I am alone and wretched for no witch or wizard would voluntarily associate with me. I lay awake at night, wandering that if by some bittersweet chance that my spirit should slip from this body, this lonely vessel, would there be anyone to miss me tomorrow? The utter agony of my feelings allowed me no respite and I looked vainly for a chance to vent my anger and to rid myself of the desperate longing in my heart. You were that outlet� I was malicious because I was miserable.
�It did not soothe my malignant wounds that you were everything that I was not. You hardly had any spells in your near empty head when you arrived by carriage. Yet already, everyone expected wonderful, near ridiculous, things from you. You were popular. You had friends. You only served to remind me of the things which I was deficit of.
�When I was attending Hogwarts, I found out quickly that the other houses were wary of the Slytherins. House members are usually protective of one another, but for some reason, even the other snakes shunned me. I threw myself into my work. I found that study and work dulled my yearning for affection.
�I was half-starved of attention and I was at the weakest point of my life. When the senior Slytherins took miniscule notice of me, I jumped into their midst. Under their guidance and encouragement, I joined the Death Eaters.�
At this point of Severus�s quick summation of his youth, Harry felt his blood run cold. The little hairs on his arms stood and goose pimples prickled his skin. He felt an icy shiver down his spine and he wrapped his arms around himself.
His ex-professor did not seem to notice the fidgeting of the other man. There was a strange light in his eyes and his hand gestures were animated. He was no longer slumped into the bowl of his seat, but rather he was leaning forward, as if he was straining to pour out his story. It seemed that once the dam was breached, there was no stopping the rush of words.
�They gave me power. They gave me respect. In return, I had to be unquestionably loyal to the Dark Lord. For once in my life, Harry, I felt as if I was of some importance! I strived for more recognition, for more favour of the Dark Lord, so he may then dispense upon me more rewards.
�And then I had the fortune of overhearing something that would cement a place for me in the prestigious inner circle. It was the prophecy, Harry, the one regarding the Dark Lord�s fall��
�You have asked for my forgiveness, and now I must ask for yours. I reported my findings to my master. It was I that alerted the Dark Lord to the possible end of his reign. And through my actions, I have pointed him straight to your parents.� Severus�s dry throat hindered him and he swallowed thickly. There was desperation in his eyes now.
�It was my fault, Harry. I have killed them. I am the cause of their deaths.�
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To be continued�
Response to Reviewers:
SeductionsClaim, cat, Morgenstern:Thank you guys for the reviews! :)
graymaid: Yes, there're a lot of raised questions, isn't there? But I won't answer all of them yet. And you might have to figure out some of the answers yourself with the clues I left lying around. ;)
Tabitha: Well, was there a plan? I suppose so... you'll just have to wait for Severus to deny or confirm the "plan even in the order in which he raped her [Hermione]".
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Porcelain Doll