Late Winter, 1980

It had been a long time, actually, since Severus had had to worry about how his mother might occupy herself in his absence. It had only been a few days since it had occurred to him that she might not be interested in everything he did when they were apart. He didn't really think she suspected he had become a Death Eater. But since she had stopped associating with the Malfoys and taken up again with her old half-blood and Muggle-born friends, Severus understood even better than he had before that there were some things she was better off not knowing.

She was happy now. She didn't trace his comings and goings; she no longer waited for him in the kitchen with an ineptly-prepared dinner, or no dinner at all, as she had in the old, lonely days in Linden Lane. She had a life of her own. She didn't need to know he was going to Malfoy Manor to meet the Dark Lord tonight. Why, he could stay all night if he liked. His absence wouldn't disturb her. She wouldn't even notice it.

So, without a qualm, about his mother, at least, Severus Flooed from the sitting room of his flat to the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, on the first Saturday in March at seven o'clock in the evening.

As he stepped from the grate, Severus saw Lucius Malfoy sprawled in an armchair, gazing into the fire. The flames reflected in his eyes turned from emerald to gold before he tilted his head toward the library. "In there."

Severus went down the shadowy hallway to the library door. Should he knock? He very gently tried the knob. The door was unlocked. He opened it and softly, hesitantly entered the library. A wing chair stood before the fireplace with its back to him. A thin laugh drifted up from its depths. "I told you to come here, so of course you can come in!"

Severus squared his shoulders and stepped further into the room.

"Close the door and come over here," said Lord Voldemort.

Severus went round to the front of the chair to find the Dark Lord sunk in the cushions with his spindly hands folded over his stomach. Severus bowed. It seemed the right thing to do. When he straightened, the Dark Lord gestured to another chair. Severus pulled it closer and sat down.

The Lord's eyes held him. "I didn't give you a task last Tuesday, as I did the others. Do you know why?"

Severus had thought it was because he was a beginner. Now, looking into the ember-like eyes, he thought it best simply to say, "No."

"No. You don't." The Dark Lord turned his gaze to the ceiling. "It's because I have to teach you a lesson."

Severus froze.

"Or two. Or three." Voldemort looked at him and laughed. "I don't mean punishment. You haven't had time to annoy me yet. No, I mean to teach you something to help you serve me better." He rose, and the rustling of his robe sounded like hissing snakes. "Get up."

Severus obeyed, following the Dark Lord to the centre of the room.

"Occlumency," said Voldemort. "Do you know what it is?"

"Yes," said Severus.

"Do it, then."

"But I--" don't know how, he'd meant to say, before his head burst with pain and his brain split open under a white-hot blow. Memories poured through the rift.

He was four, without magic, crying as Dad bellowed at Mum. He was eight, with magic, with Mum all to himself in the darkness of Spinner's End, with Dad lying Stunned in the house behind them. "Wait, Mum, wait! Let me say the word too!... Lumos!"

His head pounded. The memory shredded into wisps and another appeared. He was nine now, and watching her swing. Not the one all elbows and knees, the screechy-voiced one, not the older girl. The younger girl, with the pale face and dark red hair, who, laughing for sheer joy--

"Lily, don't do it!"

--let go.

A door slammed shut in Severus's mind. The pain subsided. He opened his eyes, which he'd squeezed shut. There stood the Dark Lord, looking, for the very first time in Severus's experience, startled. He wasn't as close as before and, to judge by his unsteady stance, he'd stumbled those steps backward.

Voldemort set his feet apart, folded his arms across his chest and stared at Severus. "You're the boy in the odd outfit."

The too-short trousers, and Tobias's old coat covering a country child's smock Mother had picked up at a church jumble.

"Yes."

"Who is the little witch?"

It wasn't a good time to practise Occlumency. Somehow Severus knew Voldemort already knew the answer. "Lily Evans."

"Lily Evans Potter. You told me Lily Evans Potter was no more to you than a co-worker. Why didn't you tell me you knew her when you were a child?"

"I didn't think it was important."

Pain shot through Severus's body; he felt shattered into a thousand brittle pieces which the Dark Lord then ground to powder with his curse. He screamed and screamed again, until it seemed that screaming in agony must become his new life, so that his last scream did not wear itself out until after the pain was gone.

He was on the floor, flat on his back. Gasping, he struggled to his feet, to see Voldemort's wand pointed at his chest. "Why didn't you tell me you knew Lily Evans Potter when you were a child?"

He'd torn through Severus's mind. Hadn't he seen how things had changed? "I meant it," said Severus. "I didn't think it was important."

Voldemort stared at him without lowering the wand. Looking into his eyes, Severus was reminded of molten lava, of fire crackling beneath a smoothly-flowing surface. He could give some other answer, he supposed, but to a Legilimens who might be Healer Meed's equal? Voldemort would know he was lying. So he said nothing and braced himself.

The Dark Lord laughed. He threw his head back, so that the shrill cackling echoed off Lucius's moulded ceilings and rosewood bookcases, and slid his wand into his robe sleeve. Severus watched him warily, until finally the laughter spiralled down to a tinny snort.

"'I meant it!' No one's ever answered one of my Cruciatus Curses like that! My friends sob when I curse them and my enemies rage, but you! You pick yourself up, brush yourself off and tell me you meant it! You didn't think it was important! Can that possibly be true, or have you learned your Occlumency well enough to lie to me? Let's see...."

The battering of Severus's brain recommenced. Another memory shook loose.

He was in his favourite summer place, cool, green and shady, where the river smelled almost right, like water and weeds. She was there, looking eagerly into his face with those great green eyes, asking him to tell her that her Muggle sister was wrong, that Severus hadn't lied to her about Hogwarts. "It is real, isn't it?"

"It's real for us. Not for her. But we'll get the letter, you and me." And he'd go away from Spinner's End to Hogwarts with his first friend, his only friend, his best friend.

"Severus?"

His best friend says his name and he smiles.

Severus fought the memory until it changed into Lily smiling in welcome. "Tuney!"

The leaves are green, the water smells right, Lily's here; this is a wizard's place! No Muggles, especially her! "Who's spying now? What d'you want?"

"What's that you're wearing, anyway? Your mum's blouse?"

The branch cracked and fell on the Muggle; she started to cry. Was she hurt, or just faking? He hadn't meant to--

She should just go away if she doesn't like it! Muggles don't belong with witches and wizards!

Petunia did go, running, but it didn't help.

"Did you make that happen? . . . You did! You hurt her!"

"No--no, I didn't!"

Lily didn't believe him. She threw him a glare like her sister's, then ran after her.

Severus fought the memory, throwing his shoulder against the door in his mind. He'd cared in those days, if he didn't now, but the Dark Lord might not be able or want to tell the difference.

That door closed and another opened into Petunia Evans's bedroom. Sev was sliding a parchment from the sock drawer in Petunia's dresser, unfolding it, reading...

"...flattered by your interest in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...delighted to have you attend.... Unfortunately, your lack of magical ability makes it unlikely if not impossible that you could profit from studies at a witching school.... Once again, I thank you for your enquiry and wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours.

Sincerely,

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock, Wizengamot, etc., etc.

The letter was crumpled. Sev, gripping it fiercely, throwing his head back in a silent laugh of triumph, crumpled it further and the memory changed--

--into his first meeting with Potter and Black, with Lily in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, where Potter had just said he wanted to be Sorted into Gryffindor.

Just where the loudmouth belonged. Severus couldn't contain his contempt.

Already sensitive to any doubt about his perfection, Potter noticed. "Got a problem with that?"

Severus's lip curled. "No. If you'd rather be brawny than brainy--"

"Where're you hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?" said Black.

Potter laughed, and Lily rose to Severus's defence, staring Potter and Black down. "Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment."

"Ooooo, come on, Severus, let's find another compartment." They taunted Lily and tried to trip Severus, but Lily didn't care. "Stupid babies, stuck on themselves." So Severus didn't care either, and the memory moved on.

"You'd better be in Slytherin!"

But the hat shouted "Gryffindor!" for Lily, and they were divided for the first time.

It didn't matter yet in the next memory, on the Hogwarts lawns in springtime.

"It's your own fault!" Lily was saying angrily. "You take your whole gang against him, what do you expect, you stupid berk!" Potter could only grunt fiercely in reply, because that Langlock was a good one; it wasn't going to wear off for hours. Severus, watching it all from behind a tree, could hardly contain his glee.

Later, it did start to matter.

"...thought we were supposed to be friends? Best friends?"

"We are, Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging round with!... Mulciber! D'you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?"

"...It was a laugh, that's all."

"It was Dark Magic, and if you think that's funny--"

"What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?... I won't let you--"

"...Let me?"

"--He fancies you, James Potter fancies you! And he's not...everyone thinks...big Quidditch hero--"

"I know James Potter's an arrogant toerag," Lily said, and relief as sharp as pleasure shot through Severus. She saw right through Potter; why had he doubted her for a moment? Potter'd never have her.

She's mine. Shoulders straight, head high, Severus went back into the castle with Lily at his side...

...and Severus fought. Not because of the pain in his head, though there was that. Not for fear of another Cruciatus Curse as it became all too obvious how well he knew Lily, though there was that. He fought, his shoulder against the door of the room full of his memories, because there was worse to come, not only in pain but in the torture of humiliation and futile rage.

Suddenly the pressure and pain were gone. The memories blew away like morning mist, and Voldemort stood before Severus. His eyes were as cold as their glistening red would allow.

"You told me she didn't matter," Voldemort said softly. "You told me memories of her weren't important. You lied. You were obsessed with her. But I will give you this: you just forced me out of your mind. I'd have to break you, I think, to get at whatever memory comes next, and I don't want that. So the Occlumency lesson's over for the evening. I will see that memory you're hiding. Give it to me."

The Dark Lord didn't understand. He thought it was Lily Severus cared about. Perhaps his humanity lay so far in the past that he'd forgotten about humiliation and pain.

The Occlumency lesson was over. "I'll give it to you, my lord," said Severus. "I'll give you every memory I have of Lily Evans Potter, if you like. You'll see why the last thing I could do now is care about her."

"Love her, you mean." Voldemort's contempt was mingled with a trace of disappointment, as if he'd expected better than that from Severus.

"Oh, that too." That too: furtive, solitary and, in its rare display, as universally rejected as an obscenity. Severus shared the Dark Lord's contempt.

"That too," echoed Voldemort. "Have you learned love's worth, then? We'll see."

The pain battered Severus's forehead again (obviously Voldemort didn't believe him), but as Severus instantly opened his mind it soon faded.

What took its place was worse.

Turned away from her, choking on soap bubbles, he couldn't see her, but that'd be all right if she stayed on the bank chattering with Macdonald, if she didn't turn her head, if she didn't see.

Please don't let Lily see.

"Leave him ALONE!"

"...I will if you'll go out with me, Evans...Go on...Go out with me, and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

She saw. But when did Severus ever get what he wanted? He struggled nevertheless, pitting every particle of his mind against Black's Impediment Jinx, until he had his wand and cast his new spell. But Sectumsempra wasn't strong enough to lay Potter flat, to keep him from using another of Severus's spells against him.

Sectumsempra wasn't strong enough yet. That thought among others imprinted itself in Severus's mind as Levicorpus hung him in the air by his ankles.

"Leave him alone!"

His robes were over his head. He couldn't see her. But Severus knew Lily's voice, every tone, every inflection peculiar to her. He heard the hint of laughter, there for one second and gone.

"...There you go...You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus."

He was shaking off the last of Black's curse, struggling to his feet, Potter's words in his ears and Lily's face in his eyes. Her eyes, alight with fury, yes, but also with the same touch of laughter he'd heard in her voice.

Potter flirted with her. Nothing new there.

Lily flirted back.

You're not going to--I won't let you--

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

His knees turning to water, his stomach turning over, he also didn't need her to tell him he'd gone too far. She told him anyway.

"Fine. I won't bother in future. And I'd wash my pants if I were you, Snivellus."

It wasn't the last of it, nor even the worst, since Levicorpus soon became one of Potter's favourites--"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"--and even that memory didn't come close to the one Severus slid into next.

"I'm sorry!

"Save your breath.... I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

"I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood. It just--

"Slipped out?... It's too late.... None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--you see, you don't even deny it!... You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

Severus stared at her, gaping like a fish. He'd longed to know secrets only the Death Eaters knew, secrets of a new and deadly magic he could have whispered to her as he'd whispered of the Dementors, of Azkaban, of Hogwarts, in the green shadows by the river. But what made her think You-Know-Who would ever want him?

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

And so it had been (although he'd crept into her street and stared at her bedroom window over the summer) until sixth-year N.E.W.Ts Potions. Had they renewed their friendship along with their old Potions partnership? He'd thought so then, but now, an observer apart from his memories, he wasn't so sure. They'd laughed. That was all he could say for certain.

And then came the evening of the moon-shifting mushrooms, when Lily, as if looking for an excuse to leave him again, once again wouldn't let him apologise.

"You lied to me! You haven't changed one bit since last year! And now you don't even have the excuse that someone's bullying you! James Potter's nowhere in sight! You're the one who's like the rest of them--the foul-mouthed, bigoted Slytherin bastards.... In their eyes, you're not much better than I am. And no amount of snide laughter in the Slytherin common room is ever going to change that."

"You said James...I thought you meant...."

James Potter. But she knew what he meant, so she didn't bother to let him finish.

"Well, I didn't.... I don't much like James Potter.... But--for God's sake, Severus, I don't obsess over him like you do. I don't let my hatred of James Potter consume every waking moment of my life."

There was a lie in there somewhere, for three months later she was going out with James Potter. But Severus hadn't known that as, after watching her leave, he'd turned to kick the caps off a ring of moon-shifting mushrooms, asking himself, If not Potter, then why not me? Why not me?

Soon the mushrooms disappeared. He was kicking only grass now as he turned toward the Whomping Willow, as twilight gave way to night. The full moon rose in the sky and the Sword of Gryffindor rose in flames before his mind's eye.

Then all went blank. Severus opened his eyes.

Lord Voldemort stood before him, watching him. "The Sword. Dumbledore's oath. You still don't wish to break it."

Dumbledore's eyes glinting by the light of his fiery sword, his voice with its strange, deep ring: "Do you swear...?"

Severus had sworn. And no, he wasn't quite ready to break that oath.

He said nothing. But Voldemort didn't press him. He paced around the room, rubbing a thin finger across the lipless line of his mouth. Finally he stopped and looked directly at Severus.

"I should smash that sword to pieces and your mind with it, if that's what it takes. But I won't. I can't, yet. In the meantime, you did tell me that what lies behind it is nothing that can damage me."

Severus lowered his head submissively. He didn't like not seeing Voldemort's face, but he thought it safer to look away. "Yes, my lord."

"Do you still say it?"

"I say that--forgive my wording, my lord--but I say that I honestly do not see how it concerns you at all."

There was silence. Then a hissing chuckle passed over Severus's lowered head.

"It's not the wording, Severus. It's the principle of the thing." What laughter was left disappeared from the Dark Lord's voice. "No one keeps secrets from me. When the time comes, whatever Dumbledore's sword guards within you I will have. Let's hope your assessment of its importance to me is correct."

Severus cautiously raised his head. "Yes, my lord."

"Meanwhile, about Lily Potter. About James, too. Dumbledore's golden boy seems to have been quite the bully. And yet the girl you wanted--the girl you befriended before both of you went to Hogwarts--the girl who'd said she was your best friend--ended up with the boy who did those things to you."

Severus let more memories trickle into his mind: Potter and Lily kissing in an alcove, in an empty classroom, under a tree by the lake. The way she clung to him, the little sounds she made when his lips touched her neck.

"With your worst enemy," said Voldemort. "You hate Potter."

Severus didn't deny it.

"And the affair of the grey underpants. Lily Evans was enjoying that even before she insulted you. Potter was attempting to seduce her with your torment, and she was enjoying it. How you must hate her." Voldemort paused. "I do."

"I care nothing for her."

"Very philosophical of you. And perhaps that's best. It's easier to think straight when you don't care. And you know, you deserve better than a fickle, treacherous Mudblood." Voldemort laughed shortly. "Just about everybody does."

What he deserved in women was, at that moment, the furthest thing from Severus's mind. So he said nothing.

"I've had enough," said Voldemort. He gave a bored, careless wave. "Leave me now. Tell Lucius you'll be staying overnight. We'll finish up tomorrow."

****

A/N: He was eight, with magic, with Mum all to himself in the darkness of Spinner's End, with Dad lying Stunned in the house behind them. "Wait, Mum, wait! Let me say the word too!... Lumos!" A reference to "Snape's Happiest Memory", another memory-laden story of mine, which can be found here.