Hypnos

Chapter 6


DISCLAIMER:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Reviews are welcome.

~

All the Hogwarts staff sat around the massive round meeting table, expectant to know what news had led to call yet another emergency meeting, and watched Snape as he finally walked into the room. He took his place between Dumbledore and McGonagall, ran a hand through his tousled hair – he appeared to have had a particularly uneasy night – and waited for the headmaster to open the meeting.

“All of you are aware,” started Dumbledore, “of the peculiar circumstances under which Miss Granger has returned to Hogwarts, and how crucial it is for us to understand exactly what happened to her. It seems that Professor Snape has finally managed to access Miss Granger’s repressed memories, and bring them back to her consciousness.”

“Er, actually not, Albus,” coughed Snape. “I have gained access to the information which Miss Granger’s mind was repressing, but so far I have been unable to bring them back to her consciousness. That will be a rather lengthy process, I’m afraid – a therapeutic process to all effects, for which I am not really qualified.” He paused, and went on in an oddly bitter tone: “What really matters though is that I was able to break into Miss Granger’s mind and extract the information we required. As you asked me to do, Albus.”

Dumbledore shifted uneasily in his chair. “So, did you find out about that Revel? Any clues about who pretended to be you?”

Snape steepled his fingers before him. “Miss Granger thought that she saw me at the Dark Revel, and we have all assumed that she must have seen somebody who had taken polyjuice potion. The fact is, she really did see me at that Revel.”

“So you went to a Dark Revel last week?” said Dumbledore, puzzled and reproachful. “Whyever didn’t you tell me, Severus? I thought Voldemort no longer had any hold over you.” He glanced quickly at Snape’s sleeved forearm.

“No, Albus, I’m fine, the Dark Mark is still inactive. The last Revel I attended took place three years ago. Yet I myself was physically present at the Revel which Hermione attended last week, I’m sorry to say.” He lookedund und at the perplexed faces of the other teachers. “A Time Turner, I suppose. Somebody wanted very badly to make Miss Granger believe that I had returned to the Death Eaters. So she was taken back in time to a Revel in which I had been present three years ago.”

“Miss Granger remembered having crossed a moor when they brought her here from that Revel, and that it took place in a castle by the sea. Last night I had the chance to… enter Miss Granger’s unconscious mind directly, and I saw the place she had seen. It was Snape Watering.”

“Your home?” gasped tiny Professor Flitwick across the table.

Snape nodded grimly. “It would be quite easy to confuse the Fens with a moor, if they brought her here by night, and Snape Watering is indeed on the coast.” He paused, pained. “She was taken to one very particular Revel, in fact the last Revel to be held at Snape Watering. I remember it all too well, unfortunately. I had to cater for – some rather unusual requests, that night.”

“You all know what sort of things take place at the Revels. I have seen – and taken part – in many horrific deeds. However, I believe that night Voldemort surpassed himself. Perhaps because it was me who was hosting the Revel, I don’t know – he might have been suspecting me already. In any case, it was worse than anything I’d seen before or anything I have seen ever since. The tortures, the maimings, the impalements… Animals, and madmen, and pregnant women, and little children…” He stopped, very pale. As was everybody in the room. He took a deep breath. “I’ll spare you the details. The point is, Voldemort insisted that I fully take part in the Revel that night, being the host. I usually tried to keep a low profile in order to avoid participating insofar as possible – I had set up a sort of ascetic persona. Which Voldemort took delight in busting that night. In fact, he demanded that I lead the Revel. And Voldemort’s demands are simply not to be refused.”

“I’m not sure of what exactly I did – before starting, I drugged myself enough that I could… function as Voldemort expected me to, while remaining as cognitively distant from reality as possible. Also, the morning after, I brewed myself a very strong potion to blunt even more the scattered memories I had. And even so, all that was not enough. Even the few, dim images I keep from that night haunt me to this day.”

His mouth twisted into a rictus. “Unfortunately, Miss Granger wasn’t afforded the chance to do likewise, so her mind had to resort to massive denial and repression in order to cope.” He looked to the ground. “And one of the main factors that drove her mind to such desperate measures must have been my presence there.”

“Oh, Severus,” Minerva tried to comfort him. “Hermione knew that you were an undercover agent among the Death Eaters since she was in school. She wouldn’t have been shocked to find you there, rather the contrary. It must have been a relief for her.’

“You don’t understand, Minerva,” replied Snape harshly. “It wasn’t seeing me there that drove her mind into a shock. It was my torturing and raping her.”

~~~~~

Hermione stood by the window in the winter sun, gazing at the Dark Mark on her forearm. The mark which, even if inactive, would remain with her for the rest of her life, no matter how hard she tried to scour or cut it off. It was etched in the bone, and had grown into her body, so that it now was as much a part of her as her veins or marrow. She thought back to the time when she had taken the decision of accepting that load for the rest of her life, of imposing that foulness upon her body and her self. She thought of the man for whom she had done it, expecting absolutely nothing in return.

So now he knew. He knew why she had become a Death Eater, why she had thrown a promising career overboard only to continue his life’s work. He knew. Hence the pity.

Why couldn’t I have repressed that as well? Hell.

She had often wondered how a Legilimens like him could have failed to see it in her. But she knew that even the best wizards tended to get confused when it came to matters directly linked to their own personal lives. It was similar to the inability of muggle psychologists to treat members of their own families, or close friends, or lovers, because of their own investment in their affairs.

And besides, Snape had never paid much attention to her other than as yet another insufferable Gryffindor to be put up with. At the time when he might have been interested in talking to her – after her decision to become a mole, and prior to actually going undercover – she had taken care to avoid contact with him, fearing that he would see through her and refuse to allow her to go on.

Fearing that he would reject her, too. That he would laugh at her stupid schoolgirl crush which was driving her to such pointless heroics.

She had become a Death Eater because she had been in love with Snape for years. Hopelessly and pathetically in love, in fact, very much as he had believed she had been in love with Harry. Ourseurse, knowing Snape, she had never harboured any hopes that her feelings might be corresponded – even less feelings coming from such a preposterous excuse for a woman as her. But she had truly admired him and his selfless dedication to the Order. So when she was told that he had finally given up as a double agent, she had been all too eager to volunteer to act as his replacement. She knew that the closest she would be to him would be as a fellow Order member, seeing him at the occasional meeting, yet that was good enough for her. And she would be continuing his work, and so somehow becoming, in an indirect way, a part of his life. Even if he never knew.

The reason he had given Snape on their first session had also been partly true. She was tired of being seen as nothing a soa soulless brain, drudging away in the library, writing ponderous tomes which would be read by three other people in the world and then left to rot on some musty shelf in the Sheldonian. She needed to feel alive, and what had been most alive in her had been her love for Snape. So it made perfect sense to swap a lifeless existence for a true life. Or so it had seemed to her at the time.

Now, however… There was no point in dwelling on the whole sorry mess. She had failed miserably as a double agent. Snape felt nothing buty foy for her. Her career was lost. Her body and mind were wrecked and marked for life.

She looked out of the window, considering the long drop to the ground. Surely it would only be a matter of seconds. And it couldn’t be too painful. Just a crash, a quick knock to the head, and then nothingness…

The creak of the door opening brought her out of her reverie, and she turned around. Lupin’s head peered in from behind the heavy oak.

“Hermione, are you busy right now? We need to talk.”