(no subject)
So... you know when you something comes and you have to write it down?
I finally had this post-DH storylet pop into my mind and I went ahead and wrote it. It exists in the same world as SS and the HBP, but I'm not sure if it'll ever be in there. Mainly because I'm not sure if I'm going to take the story that far.
Incidentally, I haven't written anything more on SS and the HBP. Well, I've made a couple stabs, but I think I'm at a good point to go back and do a rewrite of what I have so far. Severus is about as dark as he needs to get before the whole Prophecy story starts, if this were a book, the end of the last chapter would be the end of Part One.
Peignoir at Snapedom makes a really good case for that moment when Snape finds out that Lily is dead to be the "annihilation moment" from classic tragedy. I'm trying to incorporate that idea, but it kind of hoses the idea I had in my head as to why (pre-DH idea) Snape came back and when (I thought it was a lot earlier--although, I think I could wank it be as early as I had planned. In other words, I don't think the "windy hilltop" moment needed to be in October of 1981 just before the Potters went into hiding. Actually, it looks like winter, doesn't it? Wouldn't that be December/January of 1980/1981?
Anyway, since I'm not likely to post another chapter for a bit, I'm posting this standalone.
Oh, warnings. Rated XC, for excessively good Snape. That's for those who like their Snape on the bitter side.
Enjoy!
In Which Severus Snape Learns That There Is Not One Afterlife
Severus Snape arrived at a place that reminded him of the King’s Cross Station. He was not surprised to find himself naked. Clothes had always been so important to him as armor. He thought of his Uncle’s shielding cloak, Joyce’s talismanic scarf. Nakedness had frightened him in life. Now, it seemed normal.
As he walked through the station, he noticed people passing by, flickering like images in a cinema. They paid him no notice, even when he stared at them. Some were familiar, some were not. Some of them he recognized as friends, or his students. Colin Creevy wandered by, taking photographs. He had that awestruck expression that Snape remembered from his first year, when everything in the Wizarding World was new to him.
Colin hadn’t been one of his students this year, of course. He had gone back to the Muggle world. Still, it grieved Snape to realize that Colin had died so young.
A squalid, angry cry came from underneath one of the benches. Looking for it, Snape found a shocking sight. There was a baby lying naked on the floor. Its skin was bright red, raw and ugly. Its face was screwed up with misery, the mouth like an open wound.
Snape knelt down and reached out his hand.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
Snape looked up. Dumbledore, in robes of shimmering blue, was standing over him. His face was as kindly as Snape had ever seen it.
“Harry was here a little while ago,” Dumbledore said. “You would have been so proud of him.”
“He understood then?” Snape pulled his hand back and rested it on one knee. “I wasn’t sure that he would.”
“Oh yes, he was amazing!” Dumbledore beamed. “So wise. So loving. So forgiving of what I had to put him through.”
Snape grunted. “That’s more than I expected of him. I assume this station is a metaphor for an afterlife. Did he then board one of the trains and head off for his reward?”
“No,” Dumbledore said. “You see, he hadn’t managed to finish off Voldemort yet. So, he went back to do that.”
Snape stared at Dumbledore. “So... he hadn’t actually managed to arrange things so that Voldemort would die.”
“No,” Dumbledore said. “He needed to kill Nagini first. I suppose he forgot to do that.”
“Figures,” Snape snorted. The baby cried out again and again Snape began to reach for it.
“It’s really no use,” Dumbledore. “Best to leave it there.” As Snape hesitated, Dumbledore sat down on the bench and arranged his robes in a flattering drape. “It’s no matter, Severus. Harry has managed to defeat Voldemort since he returned to the world of the living.”
“How do you know?” Snape asked curiously.
Dumbledore nodded toward the damaged child. “That is what is left of Lord Voldemort. Or should I say, Tom Riddle? A stunted, deformed soul. Alas, poor Tom. Nothing can be done for him.”
Dumbledore hummed a little and groped in his pocket. He pulled out a piece of lemon candy and popped it into his mouth.
Snape felt puzzled. There was a mystery here and he didn’t completely understand it.
“So, Potter didn’t die after all. Did you know that would happen?”
Dumbledore nodded. “I suspected it.” He smiled with satisfaction. “When Voldemort used Harry’s blood to regenerate his body, he extended Lily’s protection to himself. So, he was unable to kill Harry.”
“I see,” Snape said. He hugged his knee thoughtfully.
“Do you know that you’re naked?” Dumbledore inquired. “You can conjure robes if you like.”
“I know,” Snape said, brushing aside the question. “It doesn’t matter. So, when you told me that Harry had to die, you were lying to me?”
“Of course.”
“But you said you’d never lie to me.”
“I know,” Dumbledore grinned. “I lied.”
“Ah,” Snape said. Yes, it all made sense now. He reached under the bench and picked up the baby in his hands. He was careful to be gentle, as the skin looked so very painful. Even so, the child began to wiggle with a heart-breaking wail.
“What are you doing?” Dumbledore jumped to his feet. “Didn’t I tell you that it was useless?”
“Yes,” Snape replied. “I heard you.” He began to sing. The red, raw skin began to smooth over, becoming pink and soft, the way he remembered Draco’s skin looking the day he was born.
“What are you doing?” Dumbledore’s voice was querulous. “What is that spell?”
Snape continued singing until the skin was perfect from head to the tip of the littlest toe. Then he said, using the same sing-song melody, “Sectumsempra. My signature spell, the other side of severance. The knitting together of things.”
Wands didn’t seem necessary in the afterlife. With a wave of his long fingers, a soft blanket appeared and Snape wrapped the child inside of it. He conjured a bottle of milk and played that little game of touch and tickle with the nipple until the baby discovered how to suck at it.
“Do you know what it is?” Dumbledore demanded. “That is what’s left of Voldemort’s soul. That is the man who killed you--cast you aside like an inconvenience.”
“I know,” Snape replied. He rocked the bundle gently.
“Why should you comfort him? Why should you hold him in your arms?”
“Vengeance or healing. My mother told me that that was my destiny. And that I would have to make that decision many times in my life.” Snape smiled to himself. “I doubt she thought I’d ever make it after my life, as well.”
He stood up and noticed that Dumbledore seemed older, smaller, and frailer than he had ever looked, even on the night that Snape had killed him.
“He’s nothing, you know,” Dumbledore said. “He committed the darkest act a wizard can do. He severed his soul into eight pieces. He’ll never be whole again.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Snape said. “You said that he couldn’t kill Harry because he took some of Harry’s blood.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It means that he has a part of Lily in him as well.” Snape said. “Maybe just a drop. But that’s enough for me to love him.”
There was a train pulling into the station.
“I don’t understand how you could do that,” Dumbledore said, his cheeks pinking up with indignation. He sat back down again and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have touched that baby for the world.”
“Because that was my role,” Snape said. “To do the things you couldn’t bear to do. To walk the dark path that frightened you so much. To clean up the messes you made.”
He walked to the train and pulled himself onto the steps with one hand, as he cradled the child with the other.
“Good-bye, Albus,” Snape said. “We’re going now.”
Dumbleodre waved from his seat on the bench. Then, he sighed and looked around at the others on the platform, as if searching for a familiar face.
Snape found a large compartment and sat down. There were many other people sitting along the benches. Some were naked, some were clothed. Some looked lost, others were buried in work or newspapers, as if they hadn’t even noticed yet that they were dead.
From inside the folds of the blanket, the baby began to coo. Snape pulled back the edge and smiled down at the child, who opened his mouth and gave a sound of startled delight.
“Hello, Tom,” Snape said. “My name is Severus.”
I finally had this post-DH storylet pop into my mind and I went ahead and wrote it. It exists in the same world as SS and the HBP, but I'm not sure if it'll ever be in there. Mainly because I'm not sure if I'm going to take the story that far.
Incidentally, I haven't written anything more on SS and the HBP. Well, I've made a couple stabs, but I think I'm at a good point to go back and do a rewrite of what I have so far. Severus is about as dark as he needs to get before the whole Prophecy story starts, if this were a book, the end of the last chapter would be the end of Part One.
Peignoir at Snapedom makes a really good case for that moment when Snape finds out that Lily is dead to be the "annihilation moment" from classic tragedy. I'm trying to incorporate that idea, but it kind of hoses the idea I had in my head as to why (pre-DH idea) Snape came back and when (I thought it was a lot earlier--although, I think I could wank it be as early as I had planned. In other words, I don't think the "windy hilltop" moment needed to be in October of 1981 just before the Potters went into hiding. Actually, it looks like winter, doesn't it? Wouldn't that be December/January of 1980/1981?
Anyway, since I'm not likely to post another chapter for a bit, I'm posting this standalone.
Oh, warnings. Rated XC, for excessively good Snape. That's for those who like their Snape on the bitter side.
Enjoy!
In Which Severus Snape Learns That There Is Not One Afterlife
Severus Snape arrived at a place that reminded him of the King’s Cross Station. He was not surprised to find himself naked. Clothes had always been so important to him as armor. He thought of his Uncle’s shielding cloak, Joyce’s talismanic scarf. Nakedness had frightened him in life. Now, it seemed normal.
As he walked through the station, he noticed people passing by, flickering like images in a cinema. They paid him no notice, even when he stared at them. Some were familiar, some were not. Some of them he recognized as friends, or his students. Colin Creevy wandered by, taking photographs. He had that awestruck expression that Snape remembered from his first year, when everything in the Wizarding World was new to him.
Colin hadn’t been one of his students this year, of course. He had gone back to the Muggle world. Still, it grieved Snape to realize that Colin had died so young.
A squalid, angry cry came from underneath one of the benches. Looking for it, Snape found a shocking sight. There was a baby lying naked on the floor. Its skin was bright red, raw and ugly. Its face was screwed up with misery, the mouth like an open wound.
Snape knelt down and reached out his hand.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
Snape looked up. Dumbledore, in robes of shimmering blue, was standing over him. His face was as kindly as Snape had ever seen it.
“Harry was here a little while ago,” Dumbledore said. “You would have been so proud of him.”
“He understood then?” Snape pulled his hand back and rested it on one knee. “I wasn’t sure that he would.”
“Oh yes, he was amazing!” Dumbledore beamed. “So wise. So loving. So forgiving of what I had to put him through.”
Snape grunted. “That’s more than I expected of him. I assume this station is a metaphor for an afterlife. Did he then board one of the trains and head off for his reward?”
“No,” Dumbledore said. “You see, he hadn’t managed to finish off Voldemort yet. So, he went back to do that.”
Snape stared at Dumbledore. “So... he hadn’t actually managed to arrange things so that Voldemort would die.”
“No,” Dumbledore said. “He needed to kill Nagini first. I suppose he forgot to do that.”
“Figures,” Snape snorted. The baby cried out again and again Snape began to reach for it.
“It’s really no use,” Dumbledore. “Best to leave it there.” As Snape hesitated, Dumbledore sat down on the bench and arranged his robes in a flattering drape. “It’s no matter, Severus. Harry has managed to defeat Voldemort since he returned to the world of the living.”
“How do you know?” Snape asked curiously.
Dumbledore nodded toward the damaged child. “That is what is left of Lord Voldemort. Or should I say, Tom Riddle? A stunted, deformed soul. Alas, poor Tom. Nothing can be done for him.”
Dumbledore hummed a little and groped in his pocket. He pulled out a piece of lemon candy and popped it into his mouth.
Snape felt puzzled. There was a mystery here and he didn’t completely understand it.
“So, Potter didn’t die after all. Did you know that would happen?”
Dumbledore nodded. “I suspected it.” He smiled with satisfaction. “When Voldemort used Harry’s blood to regenerate his body, he extended Lily’s protection to himself. So, he was unable to kill Harry.”
“I see,” Snape said. He hugged his knee thoughtfully.
“Do you know that you’re naked?” Dumbledore inquired. “You can conjure robes if you like.”
“I know,” Snape said, brushing aside the question. “It doesn’t matter. So, when you told me that Harry had to die, you were lying to me?”
“Of course.”
“But you said you’d never lie to me.”
“I know,” Dumbledore grinned. “I lied.”
“Ah,” Snape said. Yes, it all made sense now. He reached under the bench and picked up the baby in his hands. He was careful to be gentle, as the skin looked so very painful. Even so, the child began to wiggle with a heart-breaking wail.
“What are you doing?” Dumbledore jumped to his feet. “Didn’t I tell you that it was useless?”
“Yes,” Snape replied. “I heard you.” He began to sing. The red, raw skin began to smooth over, becoming pink and soft, the way he remembered Draco’s skin looking the day he was born.
“What are you doing?” Dumbledore’s voice was querulous. “What is that spell?”
Snape continued singing until the skin was perfect from head to the tip of the littlest toe. Then he said, using the same sing-song melody, “Sectumsempra. My signature spell, the other side of severance. The knitting together of things.”
Wands didn’t seem necessary in the afterlife. With a wave of his long fingers, a soft blanket appeared and Snape wrapped the child inside of it. He conjured a bottle of milk and played that little game of touch and tickle with the nipple until the baby discovered how to suck at it.
“Do you know what it is?” Dumbledore demanded. “That is what’s left of Voldemort’s soul. That is the man who killed you--cast you aside like an inconvenience.”
“I know,” Snape replied. He rocked the bundle gently.
“Why should you comfort him? Why should you hold him in your arms?”
“Vengeance or healing. My mother told me that that was my destiny. And that I would have to make that decision many times in my life.” Snape smiled to himself. “I doubt she thought I’d ever make it after my life, as well.”
He stood up and noticed that Dumbledore seemed older, smaller, and frailer than he had ever looked, even on the night that Snape had killed him.
“He’s nothing, you know,” Dumbledore said. “He committed the darkest act a wizard can do. He severed his soul into eight pieces. He’ll never be whole again.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Snape said. “You said that he couldn’t kill Harry because he took some of Harry’s blood.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It means that he has a part of Lily in him as well.” Snape said. “Maybe just a drop. But that’s enough for me to love him.”
There was a train pulling into the station.
“I don’t understand how you could do that,” Dumbledore said, his cheeks pinking up with indignation. He sat back down again and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have touched that baby for the world.”
“Because that was my role,” Snape said. “To do the things you couldn’t bear to do. To walk the dark path that frightened you so much. To clean up the messes you made.”
He walked to the train and pulled himself onto the steps with one hand, as he cradled the child with the other.
“Good-bye, Albus,” Snape said. “We’re going now.”
Dumbleodre waved from his seat on the bench. Then, he sighed and looked around at the others on the platform, as if searching for a familiar face.
Snape found a large compartment and sat down. There were many other people sitting along the benches. Some were naked, some were clothed. Some looked lost, others were buried in work or newspapers, as if they hadn’t even noticed yet that they were dead.
From inside the folds of the blanket, the baby began to coo. Snape pulled back the edge and smiled down at the child, who opened his mouth and gave a sound of startled delight.
“Hello, Tom,” Snape said. “My name is Severus.”