(no subject)
Everything was ruined. Destroyed. He had given himself over to Dumbledore, given all he had to the old fool just to keep Lily safe, and it was all for naught. She was dead. The boy survived, but it didn't matter, because Lily was dead, and with it, any hope he'd had for bringing some shred of goodness back into his life. It didn't matter that he'd changed sides by the end of it, it didn't matter that he'd promised to help Dumbledore and the Order. She was gone, and there was no way to bring her back. None.
He'd rather be alone, he'd rather be drowning his many conflicting emotions in alcohol, he'd rather be curled up in the furthest corner of his room in the furthest corner of Hogwarts, trying to figure out how the hell things had turned out like this.
But instead, he was sitting in front of Albus Dumbledore, barely avoiding becoming hysterical over the whole thing.
"If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."
Snape looked at Dumbledore for a long time, parsing his words, taking them apart to figure out what it was that he truly meant right then.
It wasn't working. "What do you mean?"
"You know how and why she died," Dumbledore responded. "Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."
That was absurd. It was bloody absurd. The Dark Lord was dead and the whole world knew it. Besides, he didn't want anything to do with Lily's stupid son with stupid James Potter. "He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone--"
"The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."
He didn't care about Harry Potter, but Dumbledore knew Snape entirely too well. "Very well. Very well. But never--never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us, swear it. I cannot bear... especially Potter's son... I want your word." No one deserved this knowledge. Snape would just box it up and put it away and ignore it with every other goddamn memory that caused him nothing but hurt.
"My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" Dumbledore almost looked amused, but Snape didn't exactly find it amusing. "If you insist..."
The old man leaned forward to begin planning with Snape, to begin telling him what he knew of the Potter boy, of the tasks that sat ahead of them. Snape was only half-heartedly listening to the conversation, mind turning back to wondering how he could ever escape the pain that seemed bound to plague him forever.
Just as Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again, though, everything changed. There was no whimsical headmaster's office; instead, Snape found himself on an unfamiliar sofa, in a place that was most certainly not Hogwarts, or any other place he'd ever seen before.
He reached for his wand on instinct, body tense in his seat as he slowly looked around, half expecting to see one of his fellow Death Eaters, or even the Dark Lord himself. He didn’t think that his indiscretions had been discovered, particularly in the panic after his apparent demise, but anything was possible, and Snape was half convinced that this was just the beginning of some long, exquisite punishment.
[ First tag gets to explain the island; all others can find him still in the rec room, being disgruntled. ]
He'd rather be alone, he'd rather be drowning his many conflicting emotions in alcohol, he'd rather be curled up in the furthest corner of his room in the furthest corner of Hogwarts, trying to figure out how the hell things had turned out like this.
But instead, he was sitting in front of Albus Dumbledore, barely avoiding becoming hysterical over the whole thing.
"If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."
Snape looked at Dumbledore for a long time, parsing his words, taking them apart to figure out what it was that he truly meant right then.
It wasn't working. "What do you mean?"
"You know how and why she died," Dumbledore responded. "Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."
That was absurd. It was bloody absurd. The Dark Lord was dead and the whole world knew it. Besides, he didn't want anything to do with Lily's stupid son with stupid James Potter. "He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone--"
"The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."
He didn't care about Harry Potter, but Dumbledore knew Snape entirely too well. "Very well. Very well. But never--never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us, swear it. I cannot bear... especially Potter's son... I want your word." No one deserved this knowledge. Snape would just box it up and put it away and ignore it with every other goddamn memory that caused him nothing but hurt.
"My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?" Dumbledore almost looked amused, but Snape didn't exactly find it amusing. "If you insist..."
The old man leaned forward to begin planning with Snape, to begin telling him what he knew of the Potter boy, of the tasks that sat ahead of them. Snape was only half-heartedly listening to the conversation, mind turning back to wondering how he could ever escape the pain that seemed bound to plague him forever.
Just as Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again, though, everything changed. There was no whimsical headmaster's office; instead, Snape found himself on an unfamiliar sofa, in a place that was most certainly not Hogwarts, or any other place he'd ever seen before.
He reached for his wand on instinct, body tense in his seat as he slowly looked around, half expecting to see one of his fellow Death Eaters, or even the Dark Lord himself. He didn’t think that his indiscretions had been discovered, particularly in the panic after his apparent demise, but anything was possible, and Snape was half convinced that this was just the beginning of some long, exquisite punishment.
[ First tag gets to explain the island; all others can find him still in the rec room, being disgruntled. ]