Forgiveness

This chapter is beta'ed by Drusilla of Perfect Imagination.

Forgiveness

Chapter 9

For the last fortnight, the Doctor had avoided Severus, only speaking to him if the matter was unavoidable. He was surprised by the sudden desire he felt to make such dire circumstances occur. He found himself in great need of her assistance more frequently as the days wore on, and he invoked her offer of help with an almost boyish glee in the torture his presence provided her. More often than not, Brick or Johnson were dispatched to initially deal with the problems Severus presented. Today, however, the preliminary test of the Doctor's formula would be underway on the were-coyotes. The more dangerous werewolf, Charmaine DuPre, would receive Severus' formula. There had been a heated debate over which test subjects would receive whose formula. Severus had won, as he rightly pointed out that his had been tested on a human subject before and its efficacy had been proven. Antonia had given in with bad grace while Severus smirked his superiority.

The doctor was waiting at his laboratory door, her face held too impassive for belief in the expression. Severus released the wards he had erected after her last visit, a visit in which she had observed his near breakdown. He had been having a flashback just before she appeared, one of a long bout of torture inflicted by Bellatrix, after she had convinced the Dark Lord that Snape's sympathies were suspect. The doctor's concerned voice had pulled him out of it, but he was left shaking and perspiring. She had gruffly treated him for hypoglycemia, a Muggle disease he had only heard of in passing, forcing orange juice and Saltines on him, until the symptoms had desisted. It was when she tried to roll up his left sleeve, to better take his pulse, that he had reacted badly.

He regretted batting at her hand, and the momentary sympathy that was lost because of it, but he could risk no one seeing that particular arm and the lightened blemish that still stained it. Russell Spane was a former low-level bureaucrat in the labyrinthine Ministry. Severus Snape was a wanted criminal.

Maybe.

He waved the Doctor into the room, suppressing the awareness he felt as she approached. He shivered as her low voice caressed his ears. “What is it this time, Spane?”

“The potion is ready,” Severus said simply, suddenly wishing he could apologise for his pride, willful baiting and... existence. He hunched his narrow shoulders, suddenly miserable. The doctor's withdrawal of goodwill was no real surprise, Lily had done the same to him when he had reacted in anger. He clenched his fists underneath the worktable, suddenly wishing he had no responsibilities like children, beasts or apprentices, so that he might flee as he had done before.

He heard the woman sigh, so close her breath ruffled his oily locks. “Spane.”

“Yes, Doctor?” He tried to cover the misery in his voice with the coolness of the Hogwarts Professor persona. It did not work. Even he could hear the dull tone of it.

“You're such an ass,” the doctor began, her tone strangely conciliatory and almost affectionate. Snape glanced at her face, his beetle-black eyes searching. She smiled. “I like you, I don't know why. Can we just forget about the whole issue of the money and the last two weeks?'

He quirked his brow, struggling between the urge to scowl and smile. “Ass, as in beast of burden?”

“As in hole.” She conjured a seat next to his, smiling broadly. “Now, let's talk about how we're going to administer the potions.”

&*&*&

He was seven, not yet cognizant of the wrongness that gripped his family. His mother sat at the small chrome and formica table gleaned from a second-hand shop, leftovers from some Yank serviceman's family. The yellow top of it gleamed in the dull room and Severus admired the colour. It looked like sunshine, and outdoors, and a far away land with hooting Indians and cowboys with six-shooters like the ones he had seen at the movies he had sneaked into on the Saturdays when his dad was at home. He clambered into the seat across from his mum, his stomach rumbling.

“What're you looking at, boy?” His mother's tone was dull, almost hateful. His parents must have had another row last night after his dad came home. He knew it was dangerous for him to be in the house at a time like this, so he remained silent, looking intently at the yellow. Up close, it was streaked with patterns like a fine cloth.

“You're ugly just like he is.” His mother's hand snaked across the table and placed a resounding slap on his cheek and ear. He wanted to howl, but bit his tongue instead. “I asked you a question, boy.”

“I'm hungry,” he mumbled through hair too long for Muggle school. He had been told by the headmaster to get it cut a week ago, so his mother had told him he need not go. A wizard from a good family never wore his hair short.

His mum smirked sourly. “Well, I suppose that makes two of us. If your father had a quid to spare for anything but whores and booze, maybe you could eat.”

Severus looked down at the yellow that had been a happy colour only moments before, and hated it for his poorness, his anger and his hunger. When he grew up, he would never be hungry again and he would be rich and handsome. Maybe he would even live in a far off place with Indians and cowboys. The world was full of possibilites outside this room and the yellow table and the sour anger of this house.

&*&*&

The werewolf was not what Severus expected. She was a pretty enough girl with features similar to any number of African-American teens he had seen, with her slanted almond eyes, full lips, cinnamon skin and wildly curling brown-black locks. The only thing to mar her looks was the long kelloidal scar that ran the length of one arm. She sat huddled on the small institutional sofa, her arms clasped around her midriff.

She seemed so innocent.

Antonia stayed Severus' progress into the sitting room with a wave of her hand. “Charmaine, I'd like you to meet Master Russell Spane. He's the one that developed the potion we're going to try on you tonight.”

“I've seen him.” The girl's yellow-brown eyes darted to him then back to the spot on the wall that had earned her attention before the interruption. “Did you come to gawk at the freak too?”

“I have been forced to endure the society of werewolves before.” Severus' tone was dry, bordering on contemptuous. “The breed has never held a particular fascination for me. So the answer to your query is, in a word, no.”

The girl's eyes flicked to him again, assessing the truth of his statement. “He can come in.”

Antonia's facial muscles tightened perceptibly as Severus entered the room. She stopped him with her hand on his arm, whispering, “You could be nicer to her, you know.”

“I could,” Severus replied, a tight sneer marring his features. “But then she would have sensed the falsity of my demeanor, and I would not have gained entrance.”

Severus addressed the girl, not unkindly, “Miss DuPre, I need to gather a bit of history from you. Would you be kind enough to answer my questions?”

“The doctor's already gotten all of it out of me that I care to tell.” The girl edged her body away from him. “I'm cursed, there you go.”

“And I am ugly; do you think that comprises my full history?” Snape uttered, his self-deprecating tone mirrored in the tight, tooth-covering smile he gave her.

The girl turned sharply to him with a hiss. It took all Severus' self-control not to draw back from the beast. Werewolves were just magical dogs, after all, and dogs could be intelligent. He held her contemptuous gaze, until she said, “I bet you being ugly didn't help things.”

“And I suppose you having canines, pointed ears and fur once a month has aided you?” Severus shot back, his tone acid. Antonia's sharp intake of breath was the only noise that broke the silence in the room.

The girl looked away again. “You wouldn't be so hard to look at if you smiled once in a while.”

“And, you, Miss DuPre, need to realise that I am only here because it is my job. There is no pressing need for me to suffer your presence.” Severus gathered his robes as if to leave.

“Jerk.”

“Harridan.”

“Man, I don't even know what that means,” the werewolf sneered, and then shrugged her shoulders in a reticent gesture of aquiescence under Severus' further scrutiny. “Okay, Old Ugly, you win. I'll answer your damn questions.”

Severus began with the standard queries, childhood illnesses, magical knowledge, schooling then pressed, “Relate to me how you were attacked.”

“I don't want to talk about it.” The girl broke out in a thin sheen of perspiration across her brow and upper lip. “Please, don't make me.”

She turned her eyes to his imploringly as she clutched tighter at her midriff. Severus sat back in the seat he had taken. He regarded her a moment, letting calm that he did not feel steal over him, forcing a featureless, black wall to the forefront of his mind. It was a technique he had not used since his days before Tom.

Antonia fussed around the girl. “It's okay, Charmaine, if you don't want to speak about it yet.”

Severus held up his hand, quelling the doctor's chatter with the simple movement. “There is a way for me to obtain the information without you having to relate it verbally. It will not be pleasant, but you will not be burdened with the telling.”

&*&*&

Severus knew what it felt to be violated. He had just spent ten horrific minutes with Lucius in his mind, reliving past transgressions and the tortures at the hands of, and inflicted on the Marauders. He had only been able to block Lucius effectively when he had come close to the memories of Lily.

The older Slytherin patted him on the shoulder. “That was better, you pushed me out that time, but you really need to focus on having no reaction to the intrusion. That will hold your Occlumency shields better. Let's try again.”

Severus cringed inwardly, but focused on the way he felt when he tried to dodge his parents' notice. He presented himself as a featureless, black wall. Severus waited for the battering to begin. He felt the pull of Lucius' mind and suddenly he was reliving the first row he had seen where his father had actually drawn blood from his mother... then he was ten, watching Lily fly through the air... and it was yesterday he was being bullied by Black. Lucius paused over this last memory letting it spin out as Black taunted Severus with the name he so hated. Black caressed his cheek. “Aw, maybe Snivellus likes boys, that's why he always whinges. You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

Severus muttered a curse and Black fell back against the wall, gasping for breath. Lupin bent to Black, his voice hoarse as he said, “Get out of here, Snape.”

Then he was standing before his father being whipped with the thick leather belt that the old man kept around for such purposes. He was eleven and it was just the last summer. The sweat ran down the back of his neck into his welts, stinging horribly, but Severus refused to make a sound. The old man raised his arm again, panting with the effort.... then Severus was watching Lily, wanting to...

“No!” Severus gave a shout, and Lucius was forced out of his mind. The blond leaned against a pillar of the four-poster, panting and clutching at his head. After a few moments, the older boy said softly, “I thought I was the only one whose dad hated him. Merlin, Severus, I think you have it worse than me.”

“Do not mention him again.” Severus was standing, his wand drawn and pointing at Lucius' eye. “Ever.”

“Mention who?” Lucius let his face fall to a look of complacent innocence. “Really, old man, you will have to master Occlumency if you're going spend any time in the presence of my father at Ostara break. He is the purest of the pure-bloods.”

Lucius straightened his already perfect robes. “Practice the exercises I told you about and we'll work more tomorrow.”

&*&*&

Severus explained the procedure he would employ, in great detail to Antonia, out of hearing of the girl. He could tell, several times, she wished to interrupt and noted the effort of will it took her to refrain from doing so. He said, in conclusion, “This method is more an interrogation technique than the medical Legillimancy you might employ. It is more directional than the scatter-shot approach Mental-Healers are taught.”

“Interrogation method? That's a common technique for Potions Masters to learn in England?” Antonia's gaze was sharp, pricking his conscience as he remained impassive.

He answered, spinning an almost Malfoy drawl from is repertoire, “Potions development is a very cutthroat business.”

“Yeah.” Antonia shook her head as if to clear it of the questions, but the gleam of curiosity was still in her gaze. “The procedure you're suggesting can be very harmful if it's not done by someone she trusts. Why do you need to know about the specifics of her attack? Please don't say curiosity.”

“Hardly, Doctor.” Severus leaned against the desk in the office to which they had adjourned. “How long have you been working with werewolves?”

Antonia compressed her lips. “I've only worked with two. Most of my knowledge of them comes from reading various original sources. I take it you've had more experience?”

“Yes.” Severus battled with his desire to relate just what experience he had. Lupin had been his first and Greyback's so-called pack his latest, but the Maisters Ursi had lived in the Black Forest. There had been many of that breed that had sought aid from them. Severus had overcome some of his fear of the creatures, while retaining the Old World distaste for the breed in general. He drew a breath, putting himself in the best frame of mind for a long lecture.

“Books are sufficient sources of information for school children, Doctor, but much of the information is flawed if not erroneous. Some werewolves have formed loose associations that they brazenly name Packs, but they are entirely lone hunters.

Most rely on stealth to achieve their aims and many do not live past the first year of infection. Those that do, are considered stronger, or in Pack terminology, alpha. Most attacks on other humans occur from an omega or a beta coming into contact with the subject during its most infections phase, the first year. If our werewolf were attacked by a lower-caste wolf, her prognosis is grim.”

“I had read most of that, Spane,” the doctor snapped, and then added sheepishly, “all but the part about the lower-caste infection.”

Snape masterfully repressed the desire to roll his eyes. Antonia asked after momentary inner deliberation, “And if she were attacked by an alpha-wolf?”

“Her prognosis is equally grim, but will most likely not result in her immediate death,” Severus answered. He ran a finger along the bridge of his nose. “We never discussed the conditions she experienced while in New Orleans.”

“Johnson could tell you more.” Antonia's gaze skittered across Severus'. “I don't know specifics, but most werewolves are kept docile on a potion made from poppies and moonflower. It's addictive and can be deadly if administered in too strong a dose. It's called Twilight, because it suspends the taker in a near stupor.”

“And why does she fear men?” Severus asked, suspecting the answer and feeling sickened by it.

Antonia stood abruptly. “I think you can guess, Spane. Some men like unwilling and docile partners.”

“In that case, I shall endeavor to gain a modicum of her trust.” Severus brushed his already immaculate robes, rubbing his palms over the buttons to distract himself from the prospect of spending time with the creature. His skin crawled anyway.

&*&*&

It was Ostara break and Severus had been given the time away from his duties at Hogwarts to aid Lucius in the rescue of yet another unfortunate victim of Lestrange's preferred brand of torture. Lucius' missive had been insistent that the deed must be accomplished that evening, or not at all. Severus had cleared his research schedule long enough to make the trip to Malfoy Manor and return the girl to safety.

Severus Apparated into a secure room in the dungeons, one of which he had only just been made aware. Lucius sat in the gloom, his head bowed over the prone form of a small girl, close to Hogwarts age by her size. Severus strode forward to take the burden from Lucius, knowing how much the pure-blood hated sullying his robes with Muggle-born filth. A shaft of light caught the whiteness of his profile, throwing the ravaged expression he wore in sharp relief against the gloom. Things had apparently not gone as planned. The older wizard said simply, “Severus, take this burden from me.”

Severus was unsure whether Lucius meant the child or something else. “Hand her to me. I will take her to safety.”

“It is too late for that old man. Much too late.” Lucius raised his eyes and Severus noted the pain in them amidst the unshed sparkle of tears. “Greyback was summoned by the Dark Lord, but found a hungry beta to take his place with Lestrange. Rodolphus was laughing at its antics.”

Lucius moved the body and Severus masked the revulsion he felt at the wounds on the small throat and face. The girl was not yet ten. Lucius continued, his voice a dead-sounding drawl, a tone Severus had only heard after Lucius' initial contact with Greyback and the mock Narcissa, “She wasn't dead when I was able to retrieve her.”

“And she is now?” Lucius nodded mutely. Severus sketched his hand above the other man's hair, not touching but somehow consoling him. “You showed her mercy.”

Lucius stumbled to his feet, still clutching the child to him. He thrust her lifeless body to Severus. “Take her. I was only able to get away with this because they thought I was going to further defile her.”

Severus took the burden and Lucius ordered his expression and his garments. Malfoy strode from the room without a backward glance. Severus Disapparated to dispose of the body where it would never be found, no parent should see the horror that had been inflicted upon the girl.

&*&*&

Severus was in the kitchen watching Mari prepare the evening meal when Stella came through the Floo. “Daddy, are you here?”

“Yes, Stella, in the kitchen.” Severus answered. The girl came into the room, her face solemn.

“Daddy, I missed you today. It felt like you were sad this afternoon.” The girl carefully placed her book satchel against the bar that separated the breakfast nook from the main part of the kitchen. She slid into the diner-style booth with him and hugged him affectionately. Severus extended his arm over her shoulder and patted her as she laid her head against his chest. “You would tell me if you were sad, wouldn't you?”

“I might, if I thought the emotion might affect you adversely in some manner.” The girl squirmed into his arms. “Tonight is a full moon; you will remain inside.”

“Yes, sir,” Stella answered with a small grin. “Does that mean you'll play wizard's chess with me tonight?”

“It does seem that way,” Severus answered. “But you must finish your assignments first.”

Stella asked suddenly, turning her cool black eyes to his, “Daddy, when I heard you being sad today, you were thinking about Lucius Malfoy. Who is he?”

“He is a friend from a former life.” Severus was jolted by the girl's question. A curling claw of fear twisted in his gut. “Stella, do not mention him around the others. His name might raise questions I do not wish to answer.”

“'Kay, Daddy,” Stella scooted from the bench. “I've got tons of homework for the weekend. I'd better get started.”

Severus bent his head, praying to whatever god might listen, that his world was not going to crash down around his ears. He did not have the strength to start over again.


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