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Never Again by HandPFeather [Reviews - 0]

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“Changed your mind?” Snape inquired coldly, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smile.

Violet remained silent as she unpacked her bag.

“Professor McGonagall came to see me,” he told her in an even tone.

Snape noticed the slight pause in her movements, but she still did not speak.

“I expected you to blab like a baby,” he goaded.

Violet took a deep breath and then looked square into Snape’s face. Her expression was stony as she replied, “There is nothing to tell.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at her but did not rise to the bait.

“Look, Severus,” Violet said with an exasperated sigh, “I don’t know what is going on with you. I don’t know why you are here at Hogwarts. I do know that I liked you when you were Lily’s friend. I still like you now. Lily trusts you so I trust you, Severus. Whatever happens from here, I will never be one to betray you.”

Snape leaned silently against the table across from where Violet stood regarding him. He watched her turn her attention to her lesson. He had no idea what to make of this girl. He continued to appraise her for some time in silence.

“Add more frog spawn,” he directed.

Violet did as he commanded and smiled as the potion changed color.

“Did that correct the mistake?” Snape asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she responded.

“Leave a sample for Professor Slughorn,” he told her.

Violet began ladling the potion into two small vials. She looked up at Snape who continued to lean against a nearby table, legs crossed at the ankles.

“What is he like?” she asked, quietly.

Snape shifted forward quickly so he was now standing over a head taller than her petite frame. Violet did not back away.

“Why do you ask?” he demanded.

“I am curious,” she replied.

Snape scoffed at her.

“I could never hope to explain the essence of the Dark Lord,” he whispered, reverently.

“Have you seen him personally?” she questioned, pinning him with her even gaze.

Snape scowled and turning quickly, stalked down the row between the work tables.

“What is he like?” she persisted, waving her wand and cleaning up her work station.

Snape turned and stalked back up the aisle until he stood facing her.

“His presence is commanding,” he explained in a low tone. “He is the most powerful wizard alive.”

“The most powerful dark wizard,” she replied emphasizing the word.

“Knowledge is power, Violet,” Snape told her. “He uses magic in ways most people only dream about.”

“Wisdom means knowing when not to use magic at all,” she retorted.

“Don’t be foolish!” Snape exclaimed.

“Knowledge is not the same thing as power, Severus,” she told him, crossing her arms in front of her and casting him a measured glance. “Power demands oppressing another; knowledge is merely the sharing of information between two parties.”

He scowled at her again.

“You are oversimplifying this,” he said.

“It is more than semantics,” she agreed. “This is about good versus evil.”

“It is about power,” Snape replied, “and nothing more. If you concede quietly, then no one need get hurt.”

Violet walked quickly around the table to stand directly in front of Snape. He resisted the urge to step back from her as the scent of vanilla played about her presence.

“Do you really believe that?” she demanded harshly. “If we give over quietly no one will get hurt? I am Muggle-born, Severus. Your Dark Lord wants to write me out of existence. It amazes me that he allows you to live and breathe knowing that you are teaching me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Snape responded. “The Dark Lord has more pressing things to concern himself with than the likes of you and me.”

Violet shook her head slowly and turned to gather her things.

“If you were seeking knowledge, Severus, you should have been talking to Professor Dumbledore! He is the only living wizard to maintain control and restore everything to balance. That is knowledge that is worth something.”

Snape unconsciously took a step back as she shifted her gaze to him again, a sudden dawning of comprehension in her eyes.

“All of this, Severus, just because of James and his friends?” she asked in a strangled whisper. The agony of this one thought was written all over her face.

He strode past her roughly.

“I have work. Leave those for Slughorn.”

Snape reluctantly sent Lily an owl after Violet’s lesson, setting his appointment for three days hence. He spent the remainder of his day checking his potions and researching alternatives for the Calming Draught. He struggled to get the pained look on Violet’s face out of his mind. His Dark Mark started to tingle as he stacked the tomes in a pile. He had never been personally summoned before. He rubbed his forearm unconsciously and stalked from the library, brooding. He was halfway to the front door, his arm now searing with pain, when Dumbledore called his name.

Snape turned on the spot, using every ounce of self-restraint he possessed to not appear alarmed.

“Severus, do you have time for tea and a quick update?” the older wizard asked. “Are you alright? You look preoccupied.”

“Actually, sir, I am on my way out,” Snape replied, shifting uncomfortably, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. “Something to attend to.”

“Very well, very well,” Dumbledore remarked thoughtfully. “Tomorrow perhaps?”

Snape nodded once and thought he saw a flicker of something in the older wizard’s face.

Dumbledore patted his shoulder kindly and turned, gliding in the direction of the Great Hall.

Snape walked quickly out of Hogwarts to the Apparition point, where he was summoned directly to his meeting with the Dark Lord.

When he arrived, Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were already in the anteroom conversing quietly.

Never before had Snape had such a private audience with the Dark Lord. He stood in the doorway awkwardly, looking from Malfoy to Bellatrix.

“Come,” said a high, cold voice from the dark shadows on the other side of the room.

A door swung silently shut behind them as they crossed the large space, plunging them into semi-darkness. Snape knelt almost prostrate before the figure seated in a large, wing-back chair, his breath coming in shallow gasps. In a moment he was flanked by Malfoy on one side and Bellatrix on the other.

“Severus, my servant, welcome,” the figure rasped, causing the hair on the back of Snape’s neck to prickle.

“My Lord,” Snape breathed, so low he could scarcely be heard.

“Lucius speaks very highly of you.”

Snape flicked his eyes toward Malfoy, who smiled at the corner of his mouth.

“Even Bella, it seems, is quite taken with your abilities at Occlumency.”

Snape glanced and saw Bellatrix scowl darkly.

“Now that is praise of the highest caliber,” the Dark Lord informed him.

Bellatrix softened her scowl and glanced at the Dark Lord, a small smile on her lips, before fixing her eyes back on the floor.

“It is good that you have come to me, Severus. The cause will advance because of such as you.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Snape whispered reverently, his heart beating fast in his chest.

“A reward, then,” the Dark Lord suggested, motioning for his servants to stand, “to welcome another devoted follower and friend of Lucius to the fold. Lucius, are you prepared?”

“Yes, my Lord, I will see to it,” Malfoy assured them as he fixed his gaze on Snape, eyes alight with pleasure.

Severus Snape killed his first Muggle that night, but it did not give him the rush he anticipated. Perhaps it was because he never did appreciate a fight where one side had a distinct advantage, or perhaps it was because he could not get the face of Violet Evans, tears glistening on her lashes, out of his mind.

Snape arrived at Hogwarts the next day, completely distracted, which was totally unlike him.

“Severus, are you alright?” Violet asked him as he stood silently, looking down into her cauldron.

It was the feather-light touch on his palm that finally pulled him back to the present moment.

“You have a scar,” Violet murmured, looking into his face questioningly.

He slowly curled his hand into a fist.

“Why didn’t you heal it?” she asked.

“I wanted to remember,” he told her in a low voice with uncharacteristic candor.

“You seem different somehow…distant…” she told him. “Are you alright?”

He leaned toward her suddenly, a slow smile creeping across his lips, but not reaching his eyes.

“I killed someone last night,” he whispered, silkily.

Violet gasped, clasping a hand to her mouth.

“I am bound to him forever now,” he continued in the same silky tone.

She shuddered and turned her back on him. She rubbed her fingers viperously on the fabric of her school cloak.

“It is not contagious,” he sneered.

Violet sat frozen in her seat. Her first reaction was to run screaming out of the Potions classroom and never see Severus Snape again. A small part of her wanted to kick and punch him until she could knock some sense into him. The middle ground allowed for a strangled sob to escape her mouth as she turned back to look him in the eye.

“How could you?” she breathed, looking sick.

“I wanted to see…to know,” he replied thoughtfully.

“Know what?” she asked, her voice shrilly rising up an octave.

“How it felt,” he replied.

“What?” she spat. “You killed a person to see how it felt? You are sick!”

“No, actually, he was sick,” Snape replied simply.

“What?” she asked again.

“He was very sick, I knew. I found a very sick man,” Snape told her.

Violet shook her head in disbelief.

“I find no fun in killing,” he said dismissively.

“Well that is a relief,” Violet replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She took a deep breath.
“Why would you serve him, Severus? That man is pure evil,” she said vehemently. “He is turning you into a killer. Wait, you are a killer!”

“I did that poor man a favor,” Snape protested, "even if he didn't know it."

Violet stood quickly. “That doesn’t make it okay! People do not kill people for sport. How could you?” she asked again, beginning to throw her books back into her bag.

“You aren’t finished here,” Snape told her coldly.

“I am now!” she spat, turning and rushing from the room.

Snape watched the retreating figure with a shrug. He flicked his wand lazily and everything on the work table vanished. He turned and walked back to the private laboratory, where he retrieved a few small vials of the new Dreamless Sleep potion to bring to the Headmaster’s office.



Violet left the Potions classroom in a daze. She went immediately to her dormitory, deciding that a quick change of clothes would help her state of mind. She passed a few classmates in the corridors but did not even register their presence. She could not get the look on Snape’s face or the timbre of his silky voice out of her mind.

It was as if he had no remorse for the events of the night before. He had told her almost proudly of what he had done. She shivered, thinking that there was one less person in the world today because of what Snape had done.

Arriving in her dormitory, Violet quickly changed her robes and her clothes, leaving the old ones in a heap on the floor. She knew the house-elves would take care of them before she returned from her afternoon classes, though she felt guilty at not tossing them down the laundry shoot. Pulling a brush through her hair and splashing some cold water on her face, she stood for a few minutes, leaning over the sink. She watched the water swirling down the drain and with a pang of melancholy she thought about the man who had died.

Who had he been? Did he have family? Was someone missing him right now? She bit her lip to keep from crying. And then she thought of Snape.

How does a person just decide one day that it is okay to kill someone? Violet thought there was more to it than that, but it seemed pretty simple in the analysis.

Shaking her head as if to clear it, she gathered up her book bag and left quickly. It occurred to her that she would probably be late for her next class. But she did not feel like even going to class. It seemed like such a trivial thing to do after hearing about someone committing a murder.

Violet continued to shake her head slowly as she walked through the empty corridors - the only substance greater than hate was love. Violet stopped for a moment to look out one of the tall, mullioned windows overlooking the lake. At what point did someone just lose all connection to the conscious? She didn’t know the answer to that question, but she was not quite ready to give up on Snape just yet. She turned from the window and firmly planted one foot in front of the other.



Snape dismissed his encounter with Violet and concentrated on banishing his thoughts about the night before so as to have a clear mind when facing Dumbledore.

Snape strode out of the corridor and made his way purposefully to the Headmaster’s office. Professor Flitwick was just stepping down from the last stair when Snape rounded the corner.

“Severus,” Flitwick said by way of a greeting.

“Professor,” Snape replied, “is the Headmaster available?”

“Professor Dumbledore said you would be arriving. He is expecting you,” Flitwick told him.

Snape stepped onto the lowest step.

“Pecan Sandies,” Flitwick said over his shoulder.

Snape creased his brow. “What?”

“The new password,” Flitwick called, retreating rapidly down the corridor.

“Pecan Sandies?” Snape questioned in a low voice, as the staircase spun slowly upward.

The door to the Headmaster’s office opened before him, and Snape saw Dumbledore sitting glumly behind his oak desk. Snape crossed the expanse with long strides, and placed the potion vials carefully on the desk in front of Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked at them sadly. The room remained silent.

Snape shifted from one foot to the other and back again. Still Dumbledore did not speak.

“Headmaster, are you ill?” Snape finally asked when it was quite clear that Dumbledore had no intention of speaking.

“Sick to death, Severus,” Dumbledore replied quietly after a few more moments of drawn out silence.

Snape did not know how to respond.

“Have you made this yourself?” the Headmaster asked, waving a hand toward the vials.

“Of course!” Snape snapped, reacting to the ambivalent atmosphere hanging over the room.

Dumbledore picked up his wand slowly and touched the side of the vial closest to him. The potion glowed with the look of fresh snowfall.

Snape’s mouth gaped open.

“Surely, Headmaster, you don’t think that I --” Snape began.

Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him.

“Surely you have not forgotten, Severus, that we are at war?” the Headmaster retorted, shortly.

Snape clenched his teeth. They had obviously treaded onto dangerous ground.

“What I fail to understand, Severus, is why Lord Voldemort is compelled to drag poor, innocent Muggles into the equation,” Dumbledore said, sighing. "Perhaps you can explain that to me."

Snape could hear his heart beating so loudly in his ears that he was quite sure Dumbledore could hear it also.

Dumbledore looked at Snape kindly. “Forgive this old man’s melancholy,” he said quietly. “Thank you for your hard work, Severus.”

Snape nodded but remained silent, not trusting himself to speak.

Dumbledore waved a dismissive hand and Snape turned to leave. The Headmaster’s voice reached him as the door opened itself.

“A new potion after only a week…you have earned my sincerest respect.”

Snape almost blanched as he rushed through the door.

After a few minutes, Snape was striding across the sloping lawn of Hogwarts. The late afternoon was cool as he pulled the collar up on his frock coat. He felt altogether miserable. He could not seem to catch his breath, his heart was still pounding and he continually brushed the hair out of his eyes with one hand. He found himself pacing the distance between the lake shore and the fateful tree from fifth year. His eyes flashed daggers at the memories skulking around the edges of his mind.

He had earned Dumbledore’s respect. He stopped pacing then, turning to stare over the wide expanse of lake. It was almost more than his heart could bear.


Never Again by HandPFeather [Reviews - 0]

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