For all Joy wants Eternity

[Just a short note: This takes place after the events of Voldemort’s
return in GoF, but there are some glimpses into the past which
are in brackets]

For all Joy wants Eternity

Chapter 2


Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry, former Death Eater, spy against
the Dark for more than sixteen years now, stood motionless
in the very middle of the living room of his private quarters
in Hogwarts Castle. With his eyes closed, his head slightly
tilted back, so the black hair that fell down his shoulders
joined the hood of the long, heavy cloak he was clad in,
he seemed to be patiently waiting for something, relaxed,
totally at peace.

But if some watcher had taken a closer look, they would
probably have noticed the signs of strain in the striking
features: The tense muscles of the lower jaw and the lips
that formed an even thinner line than they usually did told
their own story. One glance at the left hand that clutched
a mask carved of dark wood, with slightly shivering fingers
white against the black cloth of the cloak, would have been
enough to make everybody realize that this man was consumed
by tension. He was far from being patient. Far from being
at peace.

There was no watcher, though.

Severus didn\'t know himself what he was waiting for. After
all, the decision had been made, not just tonight, but
for some years already. What had happened up in the
hospital wing about fifteen minutes ago had only opened
the door to what he had been waiting for ever since the Dark
Lord had disared.red. There was nothing to ponder on anymore;
it was so very clear what he had to do. It had been clear for
a very long time.

\"...Severus, you know what I must ask you to do...\"

The vision of Albus\'s face, slight traces of fear, fear for
him, Severus, in his eyes, flickered through the former
Death Eater\'s inner view. The sound of their parting words
still echoed through his head.

\"...if you are ready...if you are prepared...\"

Of course he was ready. And he was more than prepared.
*This* was the final part of the way he had chosen to walk
that one night...

[...more than sixteen years ago. After he recovered enough
to leave the castle where he had killed and had been taken by
Voldemort, both for the first time in his life. After he had
Apparated to Hogsmeade, shivering from shock and from the
cold of the night. After he had reached the Shrieking Shack,
had made it through the secret passage and past the Whomping
Willow. After he had entered the Castle for the first time
since his graduation three years ago, after he had broken
down at Dumbledore\'s feet, sopping wet from the night\'s rain,
scarcely responsive from the night\'s events, his robes still
stained with blood, sweat and cum, despite the pouring rain.
His head still bursting with the reawakened sounds of the
screams of the first person he had ever killed.

And upon his chest Voldemort\'s sign burned, only a few hours
old, and it seemed to reach for his very heart with searing acid
fingers.

Severus never knew, for he had never asked, how long he
had already been there when he finally woke up from his
collapse, in the hospital wing. Some potion they must have
given him still numbed his feeling and thinking, but
there are some memories that can\'t be eliminated by draughts
or relieved by soothing spells. So when Severus regained
consciousness that afternoon, he was greeted by the visions
that would never leave him again as long as he lived: The
violated corpse of a young witch at his feet, and the gleaming
eyes of a giant snake, right in front of him, ready to attack. Terror,
pain and death had flooded from his hands that night of his first kill,
only to return, making him receive pain and terror. He had the dim
feeling that he was at the beginning of a deadly vicious circle he
would never be able to escape again once it completely embraced
him. And the voices of protest, those whispers that had insistently
condemned his actions of the last night he could remember, they
had become cries, rocketing through his head, loudly, clearly
screaming their message to him.
Making sure not to be ignored this time.

Here at Hogwarts, far from the charismatic influence of his
Master, in the soothing and peaceful atmosphere of his youth,
and confronted with nothing but the visions of his horrible
deeds and experiences as an adult, a new kind of awareness
seemed to wake in Severus. A realization that always had
been there, that had remained unnoticed so far nonetheless,
and that now seized the opportunity with both hands to
engrave its message deep into his consciousness and never
let go again.

So Severus finally had been ready to listen to those voices
that had plainly called him what he had become: A filthy
killer and undignified plaything for his Master\'s perverted
needs. Source and recipient of violence and horror. Center
of his very own cycle of receiving and distributing cruelty.

Someone he had *never* wanted to be, not for all the ambition
and devotion in the world.

So when Albus Dumbledore not only believed that he had turned
from the Dark, but also granted Severus the chance to prove
his honest change of mind, displaying a kind of trust in
his former student and just converted Death Eater Severus
could hardly believe, how could he help but give his assent to
the Headmaster\'s daring suggestion?

He became a spy...]

...and he still was one, now, more than sixteen years after.

With fingers that shivered barely noticeably, Severus lifted the
wooden mask he hadn\'t worn for fourteen years up to his face.
The slightly musty smell and the dark that swallowed his vision,
except for the limited view through the narrow eye-slits, were
horribly familiar. They were the perceptions that haunted him at
night, and even if it had been years now since he had last hidden
his true emotions behind that piece of dead, unfeeling wood, he
knew what it felt like to wear it, what it meant to wear it, almost
as if he had put it down for the last time just yesterday.

The spells to keep the mask in place in front of his facefell from
his mouth as if he had learnt them by heart only a night ago. Well,
there had been a time when dressing for secret meetings had
become second nature to him. Once you\'ve learnt something...

Closing his eyes, he felt the magical fastenings lock in place
around his head. Slowly, Severus\'s hands moved down again,
perfectly steady now, almost carefully sinking back to lightly
touch the black cloth of his cloak where it fell down at his thighs.
All that now could have told who it was standing there in the
middle of the room, was the black hair that framed the carved,
wooden face, and the long, pale fingers that seemed to slowly
caress the dark cloak. Severus forced himself to stop even
those minimal movements, becoming a statue of merciless
darkness. There was no room for the luxury of showing anything
like nervousness. Nor uncertainty. Nor fear. And it didn\'t make
any difference whether he actually didn\'t feel anything but exactly
that. No matter how calm Severus might appear right now, he
was sure that his chest could not possibly be able to keep from
bursting from all those seething emotions running amok inside
of him. He felt his heart swelling, drumming against his
ribcage, ready to blast it now with any of its thundering beats, to
rip open the twice-marked skin that covered it...

[...it had been almost exactly half a year after the night
he had rejoined Dumbledore. Almost exactly six months
after he had returned again to the Dark Lord, a secret weapon
of the Light this time. Almost twenty-four weeks of a most
realistic performance as a Death Eater. Precisely 182 days
of destroying, burning, torturing and killing had passed,
before Severus had been summoned to Voldemort very late at
night once more. Right after the Slytherin in Dumbledore\'s
service had entered the room, he had known what was awaiting
him. Actually, Severus had been expecting Voldemort to use
him again any day since he had returned to him and truly begun
his career as a spy. But until that night, the Dark Lord hadn\'t
even touched him, and even though Severus had been
extremely grateful for that, he had also known that he wouldn\'t
be that lucky forever.

And he had been right.

It was the twinge somewhere on his chest that had woken him
the next morning. There had not been much he could recall of
that night, only blurry visions of snakes, flames and red eyes,
and a stabbing pain that blazed between his buttocks. Hurt and
totally exhausted, Severus had found himself in the room
assigned to him in the large building Voldemort used as some
kind of headquarter; he was even lying on his small pallet, and
someone must have taken the trouble to spread a blanket over
him. But Severus didn\'t pay attention to any of this when he
jumped up on a sudden impulse, ignoring the pain and
exhaustion he felt, and more or less lunged in front of the mirror
that hung on the wall opposite of where his pallet was. A tight
fist of fear crushed his guts when he dared look up at the
silvery surface.

Fine, red lines, still slightly glittering with a moist sheen. Still
burning with the Snake\'s venom and the Dark Lord\'s semen.
Accusingly staring back at him.

The second mark on his chest.
To the right of his heart.

Never during the following months did Severus mention anything
about the two different patterns that now flanked his heart
in the frequent and detailed reports he sent to Dumbledore.
These two most alarming secrets on his chest remained untold,
and his new life as a spy went on as it had before. The war was
reaching a decisive phase then, Voldemort and his Death
Eaters, among them Severus, terrorized the wizarding and the
Muggle world like they never had before, and it looked like
there was nothing much that could be done to stop them. And
through the strangling horror of that time, Severus had had
the feeling that all of it was running towards a terrible pinnacle.
He had simply *known* that the Dark Lord was about to strike
out for the crucial blow, but he had had no reliable information,
no real evidence, no knowledge...and all his apprehensions,
as strong and urgent as they were, had been absolutely
unverifiable. Because of his ignorance, the Light had been blind,
deaf, bound and helpless...and all the time he had felt it coming,
getting closer...

And then it had happened.

Three days before the anniversary of Severus\'s first murder,
two of his former schoolmates died. Another went to Azkaban
for life as a traitor and killer. A baby that should have died
became the boy who lived - and the Dark Lord vanished.

It had been over.
For the time being...]

...until tonight.

To Severus, it was not the night of the return of terror.Tonight,
the real terror would only begin for him. And he was going to
give himself over to it. Knowingly, carefully preparing for it. For
his final submission. Reaching out to a small table beside him,
he took hold of a pair of gloves, as dark as his cloak, his hair,
his eyes.

The black leather he slipped his right hand into felt as it
always had. It was cool and smooth, and it fit perfectly, like a
second skin. A small shudder whispered down Severus\'s
spine. It wasn\'t right, it shouldn\'t be that way, it shouldn\'t feel
that good to wear those gloves, they should be warm and
sticky with blood and sweat, they should be dripping with the
numberless tears they had wiped from painfully contorted
faces with those cruel parodies of soothing gestures.

But they didn\'t. The black leather wrapped pleasantly
around his fingers and hands, stained with death as it was.
Ready to continue protecting the skin of their owner from ever
being touched by blood, cold sweat or tears. Ready to commit
more crimes in the name of the Dark. To complete the
instruments of terror that were Severus\'s hands. Those hands
from which violence would begin to flow one more time, as one
part of the cycle of cruelty, the distributing part.
And as far as the receiving aspect was concerned...

Severus\'s glance was drawn to one of the many bookcases in
his rooms. He couldn\'t really see it, for he had made certain
arrangements to make sure to not stare at the book all the time,
not to read the passages over and over again, as if that could
ever help him to escape from the words that had changed his life...

[...that day in the library.

It had been his first year as a teacher at Hogwarts, the first year
of what Albus had called \"a normal life - as far as this is possible
after all that happened\". He had offered the job of Potions Master
to Severus right after the trial that had led to the conclusion that
the former Death Eater did not have to go back to Azkaban,
where Severus had spent some weeks after his apprehension
by Alastor Moody. It had been Albus who had moved heaven
and earth to make the ministry schedule the trial against his spy
as soon as possible, to say nothing of the passionate speech with
which he convinced the jury to let Severus go. It was a condition
of the consent, though, that the former Death Eater agreed to be
under Albus\'s supervision from now on, just in case. Just to
\"keep a watchful eye\" on him.

Severus never really found out what it had been in the end that
made him accept Albus\'s offer of becoming the next Potions
Master at Hogwarts. Certainly it hadn\'t been any ambition to be
a teacher; even though he knew that there were not many wizards
or witches in the country that wouldn\'t have had to capitulate
against his knowledge and skills when it came to potions - he had,
for a lot of reasons, no desire at all to deal with their children. Not
on a professional, nor on any other level.

But after all, the castle had already been a kind of home to him
when he still had been a student. So why not make a virtue of
necessity? Why not repay Albus for all that he had done for
him? Why not actually try to begin a new life, a normal life, as
far as was possible after all that had happened?

When he really thought about it, though, Severus could hardly
keep back the suspicion that his agreement to Albus\'s offer
had been due to nothing other than having had no other choice,
of being indebted, of duty, of guilt. Better being a teacher
at Hogwarts than going back to his cell in Azkaban. Better
repaying his debts to Dumbledore than owing him for the rest
of his life.

He didn\'t like those thoughts. Not at all.

The new job had been a really big change for Severus, and
anything but easy in the beginning. The daily contact with people
was difficult enough for him, who had always preferred to resort
to solitude. The fact that almost everybody he had to deal with at
Hogwarts, from the First Years up to the teachers, had sustained
losses in their families and among their friends during the war
didn\'t make things easier. At the beginning of the time he spent
in the castle, there were very few people who at least tried to
approach him without the mixture of doubt, reproach and contempt
he received from most of the wizards, witches and students he
met or had to live under the same roof with. Not that he had
expected anybody to treat him any better. He himself knew best
what he had done, what it was people despised him for.

He started to avoid them whenever he could. Spent a lot of
time in his Potions laboratory, in his rooms, out at a secret
place by the lake he had already used as a refuge during
his school days.

But most of all, he fled to the library when things became too
much for him.

It had been an evening as usual. After he had spent most of the
night reading in a chair in the Restricted Section, growing more
tired minute by minute, Severus had just been putting a very old
book about the Dark Arts that was already close to disintegration
back onto the shelf, when it had slipped from the grip of his tired
fingers. Cursing himself for his carelessness, he just managed to
catch it before it hit the ground, but a few of its pages had fallen
out in the process and slowly fluttered to the floor.

And after it had slipped from Severus\'s hands, hands that had
been shivering heavily with shock, for the second time that
evening, the book crashed down to the ground beside the loose
pieces of parchment.

From one of those pages, a painfully familiar image screamed
at Severus. He had recognized it at once, even though it
wasn\'t drawn in the fine red lines he knew, but in thick black
bars that were embedded in a background of swirling yellows
and oranges.

The first ornament Voldemort had burned his chest with.

The book never made it back onto its shelf. After he had
returned to his quarters, clutching the collection of yellowed
parchment to his chest as if his life depended on it, Severus
had spent the entire night reading, complete bewilderment
slowly turning into terrified disbelief, which had gradually
changed into all-embracing horror that left him sitting stunned
by the fire, staring motionless into the flames, unable to feel or
think anymore - but now knowing.

The ritual didn\'t have a name. There weren\'t even explicit
instructions as to how to perform it, only very well hidden
indications, spread through the entire book, and only someone
very familiar with the Dark Arts would have been able to put
them all together to embody a perverted ceremony of claiming
and taking. It was all about submission and possession. Three
symbols, representing Fixation, Sacrifice and Eternity were the
key. Branded into a body, initialized and established by the rare
Naginis\' venom and the semen of the claimant, combined with
sex and the voluntary consent of the claimed in the beginning,
they would bind those persons. It had nothing to do with love,
though. This was a purely physical bond - and it would continue
to exist for as long as the two of them might live. And to make
sure that the marked one would be faithful to his or her owner,
the body that bore the three ornaments could never be
touched anymore by anyone else. He or she belonged to the
claimant. Irrevocably, unalterably, absolutely.

Forever.

Until death alone would them part.

Severus\'s life hadn\'t been the same after he had discovered
what the symbols on his chest really meant. He had hidden the
book behind some of his own in his living-room and hadn\'t told
anybody about it. He would not have been able to deal with
discussing his foolishness on the night it had all began, nor
the fact that he had been about to become nothing more than
some kind of sex-slave to Voldemort, nor the panic that rose
inside him whenever he thought about the Dark Lord\'s return now.
He still was a very useful tool against the remaining traces of the
Dark, a precious adviser when it came to prevent Voldemort\'s
attempts to regain his power, and Severus knew that Albus still
counted on him to be ready when the Dark Wizard that once had
been Tom Riddle would rise again. Letting Dumbledore know about
his, Severus\'s, situation would only have made things even more
complicated than they already were.

But more than anything else, Severus wanted to forget about the
first two elements of total submission that were burned into his
chest. He didn\'t want to think about the possibility of ever receiving
the third, still missing symbol, the symbol of Eternity. He wanted to
suppress the few memories he had about the two nights with
Voldemort and his snake. And since he was a Slytherin, with
determination being a great part of his soul, he more or less
managed to do so.

Until some years later, when the baby that should have died, but
had become the Boy who lived instead, had arrived at Hogwarts.
The person who had defeated Voldemort. Who had made him
vanish. Who had kept him from completing his work on Severus.
The one the former Death Eater owed it to not to be the personal
and lifelong possession of Voldemort yet, who reminded Severus
everyday that he was claimed by Voldemort in a way that went
much deeper than the Dark Mark did.

Harry Potter\'s presence at Hogwarts didn\'t allow him to forget
about the incomplete ritual. The boy forced Severus to think
about the time of freedom he had, the time Harry had borrowed
for him, and about the fact that this time would come to an end as
soon as the Dark Lord returned. Voldemort had never been
someone to not finish what he once had began, and Harry Potter\'s
scar told the former Death Eater about his fate every time he looked
at it. Harry became the representation of Severus\'s deepest, wildest
fears.

How he had hated the boy for that...]

...and now what he had feared for so long had finally happened.
Here he was, standing in the middle of his living-room, about to
face the completion of what had been initiated more than sixteen
years ago.

His decision to return to Voldemort as a double agent for the
second time in his life had been settled already. It had been made
long before this night, and he would not question, let alone change it.
He had thought this through, knowing very well what possibly was
awaiting him. All he hoped for was that there was more to his
decision than the will to repay debt, in combination with a sense of
guilt, loyalty and blind obedience to Dumbledore -and that he would
be able to maintain his determination once actually face to face with
the Dark Lord.

With a resolute gesture, his gloved hands reached behind his head
and drew the large hood far over his wooden-masked face, concealing
what had last been the last visible vestige of Severus Snape. He
searched his mind for the message the Dark Mark had sent him earlier
this evening, found what he was looking for, and knowing where he
would have to Apparate turned to leave the dungeons. To leave the
castle.

Yes. He was ready. He was prepared.