Chapter Text
Albus Dumbledore took his seat at the table with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix as they awaited the arrival of a certain Potions Master. It was mid-November, and he had called a meeting just a week prior.
"Where's old Snivellus gone now? Has the snake now finally shown his true colors?" Sirius Black commented as he sipped on some tea.
Dumbledore was quick to admonish the current fugitive.
"His name is Severus, Sirius. Surely, you've put the past behind you?"
"Not quite," Sirius retorted. "He's still a greasy old git if you ask me."
A new voice joined the conversation.
"Sirius! May I remind you that two years ago, I thought you were the one who gave Lily and James away to You-Know-Who? If it hadn't been for Harry discovering Wormtail on the map, I'd have gladly handed you over to the dementors."
Remus Lupin had a stern look on his face.
No one noticed when a thin, sallow figure walked slowly into the room. When he took his seat, none of them realized his presence until Dumbledore greeted him.
"Severus! How good of you to join us! Are there any new reports?"
Before Severus could answer, Sirius cut in.
"Why're you late, Snivellus? You sure you're not drifting to the dark side?" Sirius sniggered. This comment earned some well-deserved glares from the rest of the Order.
"Sirius, stop acting like a child. And his name is Severus," Remus scolded warningly.
"It's fine, Lupin. If the mutt wants to act like a child, so be it. It's none of my concern," Severus sneered.
Sirius growled under his breath.
Severus, seemingly indifferent to the bullying, continued.
"There are no new reports as of yet. The Dark Lord still won't let me get close enough to him to get a glimpse of his plans. He mentioned how he wanted to execute an attack on a Muggle village near Brighton, but no details were provided."
Severus's breathing was noticeably shallow, so it took him a little bit of an effort to relay the message to the Order. Arthur Weasley quickly picked up on that.
"Severus? Is there something wrong?"
"No, Arthur," Severus calmly countered. He didn't want to be the center of attention and pity. He could take care of himself perfectly. It was nothing he couldn't fix, in his opinion.
"But you're shaking," Arthur argued.
"I said, nothing's wrong," Severus reiterated, this time slightly firmer. He rose from his seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."
Molly Weasley overheard this.
"Severus, do stay for dinner. We were just about to eat."
"I'll be fine, Molly." Severus started to walk out of the room.
"What's that you're hiding?" Mad-Eye Moody asked, who noticed Severus subtly placing his hands behind his back.
"I'm not hiding anything," Severus replied, still calm.
"Show your hands, then! There's no reason why you should be hiding them."
"And why, pray, are you suddenly interested in the state of my hands, Moody? I'm genuinely curious," Severus spat. He tried to smirk, but instead it turned into a wince of pain. He inhaled sharply through his nose.
"Now I know there's something wrong," said Arthur. "Show me your hands, Severus."
"And why would I do that? I don't need your pity."
Severus proceeded to start walking out of the room. However, just as he was about to make his exit, Remus grabbed his wrist.
He let out a great yell of pain. He whipped around to face the werewolf, who had hastily let go of him.
"When will you lot stop overstepping your boundaries?" he demanded of the entire room, his voice murderous. "I said nothing is wrong, so you don't need to pry until you get an answer which satisfies you!"
With that, Severus left, his robes billowing behind him as he did so.
Remus stood there, unmoving, as his mouth hung open slightly. After a few moments of silence, he finally mustered the ability to speak.
"His hand. His hand—"
"What about his hand, Remus?" Dumbledore calmly asked.
In response, Remus slowly held up his own hand, stained with Severus's blood.
Severus walked out of Grimmauld Place, feeling wobbly with every progressing step, and he found himself in the midst of a rain storm.
"Great," Severus muttered. He turned on the spot, and he found himself at the Hogwarts gates. There was no use returning to Spinner's End unless it was summertime. Besides, he didn't want anything to do with that wretched house unless absolutely necessary. There were too many bad memories associated with it.
He started walking towards the great castle. This was the moment that the weather decided to be extra mean to Severus by turning its simple rain to a torrential downpour. Lightning struck loudly in the distance.
By the time Severus had made it inside, he was soaked right to the bone. He hurried to his living quarters and went to his potions cabinet, stripping down to his undershirt. Slowly, he unwrapped the makeshift bandage he had tied around his right arm. It was a wonder that Severus had managed to not pass out during the time between his torture and now. The gashes that Bellatrix had created made him bleed profusely.
"Severus, dear boy. Do you have anything to say about our failed mission last week?"
Tom Riddle was in a terrible mood. A planned attack on Chiswick had been shockingly thwarted by members of the Order, and there hadn't been any reason why it should have been. This time, Tom had made certain that no word would have passed through his inner circle. Thus, the only one he could blame, unfortunately, was his spy. And yes, he did understand the rather difficult position he was in, seeing as he had to report to Dumbledore as well. But Tom hadn't given Severus any permission to tell Dumbledore about this attack.
"No, my Lord."
Severus stood with his head bowed. He offered no more answer than this, which only angered Tom more.
How dare he?
"If that's all you have to say, then I'm afraid I must punish you."
Tom hoped this threat would worm an answer out of Severus. However, it seemed his spy was choosing to be especially quiet tonight. Except:
"It will not happen again, my Lord."
Was that all he wanted to say? Tom's temper flared, borne of the frustration he now felt towards his spy.
Perhaps Severus would benefit from a lesson.
"Won't happen again, you say?" Tom laughed loudly. "Oh, I will make sure of it." Brandishing his wand, he directed it at Severus. "Crucio."
Severus dropped to the ground, beginning to writhe in pain. He fought his urges to scream so as to not appear weak in front of the Dark Lord. After some time, he abruptly ended the torture, which left Severus confused. Meanwhile, Tom had decided that this simple punishment wasn't enough.
He needed to make sure this stuck with his spy. Turning to his right-hand, the beautiful Bellatrix Lestrange, he beckoned her with scaly fingers.
"Bella, will you do the honors?" He gestured to the shaking heap on the ground. "Severus needs to understand. Make it permanent."
Bellatrix cackled a cacophony of horrid, evil laughter.
"I'll have fun with you, dear Sevvie!" she screeched. She whipped out her dagger, pulling Severus's right arm sleeve. Then, she slashed a deep cut near his wrist.
Again, Severus fought the urge to scream, but a groan escaped his mouth.
"You are resilient," commented Tom. Truly, his spy was resilient, which is why he kept him. However, his resilience wouldn't satisfy Tom tonight. He turned his attention to Bellatrix. "I fear you're not doing enough, Bella. He needs to understand."
Bellatrix, grinning gleefully, cut a long gash the length of his arm. Again, Severus let out a groan. With the third gash, Severus let out a scream of anguish.
After a few more minutes of this, Tom held up his hand. He didn't need Bella killing his spy, after all.
"I think that is enough, Bella."
He felt disgusted at the pout Bella sent his way, but at least she didn't say anything. Meanwhile, Severus looked up, his eyes wide with fear.
If Tom had been human, he would've felt great sadness for his spy. But, as his soul was too damaged, he felt nothing.
"I hope you don't make the same mistake again," said Tom coldly. "Next time, I will inflict something much worse."
"I won't, my Lord," Severus managed to croak out.
Severus took a vial of Blood Replenishing Potion and a vial of Healing Potion out of his potions cabinet. He downed each of them in a gulp. After that, he took some proper bandages and wrapped them around his arm securely.
Once that was done, he changed into his nightclothes. Then, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at his bloody robes and shirt.
"Scourgify!" he said with a flick, and his clothes were as clean as when he first got them. He cast a drying charm, and he walked over to his cabinet and pulled out a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey. Then, he settled into his armchair by the fire.
Why? he thought. I'm constantly risking my life, and for what? A boy who isn't even mine?! Severus quickly shook his head.
"No. It's not just any child. It's Lily's child," Severus self-admonished.
Instead of pouring some of the firewhiskey into the glass like he initially planned, he put the glass down and drank straight from the bottle. The fiery sensation the unique magical spirit brought him was settling. It hurt his throat, but he relished the pain. The pain he couldn't ever live without. He loathed himself to such a degree that he kept on wondering why he hadn't Avada Kedavra'd himself into oblivion yet.
"For the child," Severus kept on repeating to himself on these occasions. "For Lily."
But, still, that wasn't enough. Once Lily had died, Severus had wanted to die, too. He had wanted to end it all. But Dumbledore had somehow convinced him not to do it. He convinced him that dying wouldn't help anybody. That man had an infuriating way of convincing anyone he was right. Maybe wizards had the same suicidal problems as the Muggles did. At least, Severus thought, they address the issue. Merlin knew that they were more helpful in these situations than witches and wizards could ever be. And they were more efficient at keeping Voldemort-like dictators at bay, too.
The last time the Muggles had a major world war was fifty years ago. They had defeated Adolf Hitler, a power-hungry Muggle who thought Jewish people were inferior to everyone else. It was similar to how Voldemort thought Muggles were inferior to all the pureblooded witches and wizards. Severus remembered learning about World War II in his Muggle primary school. He didn't think much of it. All he remembered was that he greatly disliked Hitler and his viewpoints. Severus mentally kicked himself in the arse. If I didn't like Hitler's viewpoints, then why the bloody hell did I become a Death Eater? Just to impress Lily? Well, look where that took you.
Severus took another swig of the firewhiskey, and he downed more than he did in his first gulp. It was satisfying to feel this pain on top of more pain. He didn't deserve any love, in his opinion, nor did he want it. His eyes burned, threatening to flood his sallow face with the pain and anguish he so rightfully deserved. But no. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't allow himself this one comfort, this one reprieve, for he, Severus Snape, didn't deserve it. He set the bottle of firewhiskey on the side table by his armchair, sauntered over to his bedroom, and drank a vial of Dreamless Sleep. Maybe Severus abused his ability as a Potions Master. No one would care, anyways, right? He wasn't in any mood to care whether a vial of Dreamless Sleep was an overreaction.
He got in bed and let himself be alone with his thoughts. It was just him against this sorry excuse of a world, wasn't it? Dumbledore may have helped him, but he was emotionally manipulated into joining the side of the light by him. When he thought about it deeply enough, even Lily possessed some flaws that he didn't normally think about. When he was a child, she knew he was poor, didn't she? She knew that he was abused. Right? No, she didn't know about the abuse. Not really. If she saw the scars that Severus had acquired over the years, maybe she would've tried to help him more. But he knew, deep down, that only he was to blame for bringing all this sorrow upon himself. He was the one who called her a Mudblood. He was the one who associated himself with Death Eaters. He was the one who was stupid beyond reason.
Maybe Lily was right for cutting him off. For calling him "Snivellus" in response to that filthy word he uttered without thinking. For suggesting he should wash his pants. For taking James's side. No, Severus thought. That would be going too far. James had his fair share of flaws that Severus was in no way closer to condoning. Thinking about these thoughts made Severus loathe himself even more because he knew he deserved all of it in the end. It was his fault that Lily was dead, his fault that Lily cut him off, all his bloody fault that nothing was how it was supposed to be.
Severus realized that he should really go to sleep. He had another Death Eater meeting in a couple of days, so it was best to try and recover from the injuries he had sustained tonight. He cleared all his thoughts from his mind, and he put up his Occlumency shields. Then, he drifted into a dreamless, comfortless slumber.