The Hepatic Hex

Chapter 1

Severus Snape sat in his private rooms in the dungeons of Hogwarts partaking in his favorite personal pastime. Brooding. Brooding with a now half full bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey sitting in his lap. As always, he had started drinking the liquor from a hundred years old crystal tumbler, an heirloom of the aristocratic family line that he was born into. Once again he had flung the tumbler against the grey stone hearth of his fireplace where it had shattered into a thousand pieces reminiscent of his soul, as he wondered again how he had managed to screw up his life so completely.

Potions Master. He had an intellect unchallenged by Einstein and he was a goddamned Potions Master to a bunch of sniveling, unintelligent new generation of young witches and wizards that would one day be unleashed on the magical world. Try as he might to purposefully fail each and every student that came through his classes, Dumbledore always found a way to convince him that when the day of their graduation came they would be well prepared and trained to release into the magical community. So as much as it despised him he usually let everyone pass - albeit scrape through. He had found that he was content to make the little buggers squirm in their seats from his obviously, less than pleasant demeanour. The worst of his unsavory character he used to completely terrify students like that hopeless Neville Longbottom, who through his past seven years had melted at least one cauldron a week and the three who where referred to throughout the staff and student body alike as \'The Dream Team\'.

‘The Goddamned Dream Team’ He spat at the thought of them. Headed by Harry Potter, the son of one of his fiercest enemies James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, seemed to be more trouble than he was worth. Every one of his 6 1/2 years at Hogwarts the brat had broken at least 100 school rules, which should have led to his expulsion and banishment from the magical community. But no, he was still here, and why? Because, luckily for him not only did the wizarding world at large think he was the only ono coo could destroy the Dark Lord forever, but he had successfully argued that each time he had broken the rules it was because Voldemort had somehow infiltrated Hogwarts and had posed a direct threat to the student body the the magical world.

First there had been the incident with the Philosophers Stone, in his second year, a Basilisk at the control of Tom Riddle had plagued the school. In Potters third year he had set free Sirius Black, his Godfather and convicted murderer a man that Snape hated above all others and longed to rip apart with his bare hands. Dumbledore had aided him in this attempt so Snape had resigned himself to the fact that as much as he hated to admit it, Black must have been innocent. He harbored secret doubts about this though. In “The Dream Teams” fourth year, Voldemort had come back publicly and killed Cedric Diggory during the Tri- Wizard Tournament and Potter had fought the Dark Lord and brought the boy’s body back with him using a portkey. He silently respected Potter for this seemingly unselfish act – but not even a mind-dementing dose of the Cruciatus curse would ever make him admit it. And so it went on every year, Voldemort would make a move and Harry Potter would stop him. Not destroy Voldemort; even Snape knew that it was too much to expect that from a boy his age, but at least he was able to buy the magical community at large some time until his full potential was realized.

Then there was the first of Potters ever-present sidekicks. Ronald Weasly. He couldn’t remember a time that at least one Weasly did not grace the halls of the great castle that he called home. Weasly was a hot tempered little fool and his intelligence, Snape was sure, was below that of a Flubberworm. Somehow he had come out unscathed during each of the escapades that he accompanied Potter on. ‘He must have had an army of guardian angels working in shifts around the clock to make sure he didn’t kill himself’ Snape thought unkindly. ‘After all’ Snape mused, ‘pure luck is not in endless supply’.

Then there was her. ’Little-Miss-Insufferable- Know-It-All\', Hermione Granger. He had watched her as she took her place on the stool to be sorted at the beginning of her first year at Hogwarts. She was nothing special to look at as an 11 year old. Plain brown eyes that were far too big for her face, a veritable waterfall of almost Afro bushy brown hair trailing down to her waist, and the biggest set of oversized beaver like teeth he had ever seen. It had taken every ounce of self control he had in him to not laugh at her before the sorting hat had placed her, just incase she had ended up in Slytherin, the house that he headed. But no, like Potter and Weasly she had been sorted into Gryffindor and so began the most tormenting years he believed he had experienced while teaching at Hogwarts.

‘Miss Granger’ he was sure had been sent just to remind him what a surrealistic nightmare his life had truly become. She literally knew the answers to absolutely bloody everything he ever questioned his class on- no matter how obscure the reference. She had an intelligence that matched his own, and was well place to receive the highest N.E.W.T.S that Hogwarts had seen in 30 years. Snape found it highly ironic that the bane of his existence was probably going to break his record high scon thn the seventh years exiting exams.

“Silly little girl” he said out aloud. If only she had the wisdom to not hang off the Potter kid, the girl-no woman he mentally corrected himself, might make some difference to the looming war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters and a beautiful wife to some lucky wizard. \'Yes’ he thought ‘a beautiful intelligent outright Goddamn sexy wife for someone-I wouldn’t mind a bit of that for myself -\'

“Where the FUCK did that come from?” Snape said out aloud. Yes at 19 (thanks to an extra year added to her life through the extensive use of a time turner in her 3rd and 6th years) she was above the age of consent and Merlins Beard! Her body had filled out seductively but-

“Just bloody stop it Severus, you are turning into a perverted old man. Lusting after a 19 year old chit who would never want you like…” ‘Like you want her’ he finished mentally.

She was not beautiful, except to him. Her eyes once plain now sparkled like cinnamon; her lips were full and rosy against her milky white skin. Her legs though short were unmistakably curvy; she had also had her teeth fixed, her hair now a mass of controlled frizz-free waves, and her breasts…He groaned audibly at the thought. ‘Yeh, nice going Sev, get yourself all worked up for another cold shower courtesy of the bane of your existence\' He sighed to himself. What made him think that she would ever want him? Why did he bother deluding himself?

He was 40 this year and often referred to as the greasy git by the students of the school. He was well aware of it. He was also aware that he was not an attractive man. Years of living in the dungeons where there was a notable absence of sunlight and spending his life bent over cauldrons emitting sometimes-poisonous fumes had left his skin sallow. He had a large hooked nose, reminding him continually of the Roman ancestry of his line. He had dark, cold onyx eyes and hair that was constantly limp from the humidity in dungeons. Although he was toned he was no means thin, the fine battle scars that crossed his back and the one large scar that ran diagonally from his left shoulder, across his heart and then down to his navel, blemished his well-defined body.

It was too much for him to hope that with everything that he had been and done in his life that anyone as pure and good as Hermoine Granger was would ever willingly let him touch them, so he never bothered to indulge himself in fantasies.

So he watched her and loved her from afar.‘Yes’ he admitted to himself, he loved her, all the good it would do him. He’d never loved anyone or had someone to love and care for him except Albus Dumbledore, the man he considered a father, the man who had given him a second chance. Everything he did in his life he did now to repay the debt he owed the aging wizard for giving him another chance at life, even though he was certain he did not deserve it.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a violent burning sensation that traveled up his left arm. There would be another Death Eater meeting tonight. ‘Great’ he thought, ‘this would have to happen when all I want to do is get unashamedly drunk’.

Jumping up, Snape rushed to his bathroom and retrieved one of the many bottles of a sober-up potion he had and downed the foul smelling liquid in one go. Immediately he felt the effects ‘I’m not considered the greatest Potions Master in Britain and Europe for nothing’ he silently gloated.

Stepping out of his chambers he waved his wand over his clothing and they transformed into his usual Death Eater garb. Black robes, black clock with silver lining and hood all made out of the finest silk. From his dresser he pulled out his silver steel mask and thick leather gloves and headed towards his fireplace. Grabbing a handful of floo-powder he threw it into the flames and when they turned green announced \'Albus Dumbledore\'. Not 2 seconds later the face of the old wizard appeared in Snape’ fireplace, and with one look at Snape’s attire simply said “Be careful my boy, come back to us safely my son” and disappeared.

Wasting no more time Snape put on his mask and gloves and headed for the underground exist from his rooms that ran to just inside of Hogwarts well warded grounds. Remembering to re-ward his own rooms he strode with purpose to the gates of the grounds and thought once again on the reasons he had joined the Death Eaters.

Most people probably and wrongly thought that he had joined Voldemorts followers because of some dramatic childhood trauma. He could only wish that this excuse could be applied, maybe then he would have had justification for taking such foolish action. No, the reason he turned was much more pathetic. Voldemort respected him for his intelligence and capabilities and gratified his ego. What more could a black duck want when he was 18?. In return for the services he rendered for the Dark Lord, by providing him with all manner of illegal, dark and dangerous experimental potions, he was given the freedom to expand his knowledge base in the endless supply of Dark Arts texts he had always craved. This gave him a sense of power and he reveled in it for a year before the atrocities he was forced to witnesses broke him, in everyway possible.

He returned to Dumbledore in 1981 and confessed to that rape, torture and murder of Muggle men, women and Gods help him, even children he had witnd, bd, but never had the stomach to partake in. Dumbledore had given him the option of going to Azkaban and receiving the Dementors kiss, which would leave him as a soul-less shell or spying as a Death Eater for the Order of the Phoenix. Although he felt that going to Azkaban, the wizarding prison was all he deserved, Dumbledore had not so subtly hinted that his role as a double agent would greatly aid in the resistance. So he had accepted the old man’s proposition and his offer to be the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. And here he was today, 21 years on, his cover still not blown, continually feeding Voldemort lies about the movements of the Order and Harry Potter while providing Dumbledore with the most truthful and detailed accounts of Voldemorts intentions as he could.

He was under no illusion that he would undoubtedly die a slow and agonizing death should Voldemort ever find out about his deception. But the was equally certain that if he could come out of this war alive, the only way he could ever accept that he had redeemed himself was if he had done everything he could to repay his debt to Dumbledore.

These were his final thoughts as he reached the boundaries of Hogwarts, stepped outside the Anti-Apparation wards, placed his wand to the blackened and burning scar of a skull and serpent he had had so foolishly taken all those years ago, and disapparated.