The Pensieve

Author's notes: This was the most difficult fic I’ve ever written, and has almost nothing to do with the story I originally meant to tell. But this is how the characters wanted it told, so who am I to argue? It’s bit AU after HBP, I guess… A big hug to my good friend Supersonic Bitch for agreeing to beta on a very short notice. All remaining errors are mine.

The Pensieve

The room is lit by the last, failing rays of the setting sun. It reeks of sex and ancient magic. Three teenagers are trapped in the moment, in three different positions. A black-haired boy is furiously fucking a red-haired girl, and a slightly older blond boy stands in the corner, watching.

Cold grey eyes bore into equally cold green ones, paying no mind to the sweaty body between them. “This should be me and you,” both eyes are saying wordlessly. “You and me, we are all that matters.”

It was so easy to see that things weren’t as he remembered them, watching the memory from all angles. There was something horribly wrong, something he had not known. He did not want to see it or the other memories either. But he seemed to have no choice. Those twirling images would form a coherent story when placed in the right order, whether he wanted to know or not. His memories mixed with hers. Closeness he had apparently never had with her and most certainly would never again have.

A red-haired girl hides behind a door as four boys walk past.

“So did you ask Evans out or is she still hiding from you in the library?” One of them asks another.

He blushes and looks hurt. “I didn’t see her, but she’s not hiding from me. She just has a lot of homework…”

The girl makes a face, mouthing the words “Yeah, right, Potter.” She then turns around and enters the library, almost walking into a skinny boy with long black hair.

“Oh sorry, didn’t see you there Snape.” Her face seems slightly flushed and she asks the boy to sit with her. He complies, and soon they are having an animated conversation.

So she had been hiding from Potter, not looking for his company. He remembered the weeks that had followed. They had spent a lot of time in the library, talking and studying. Somehow he had said too much, or maybe too little, about Lucius. She had been extremely interested in the Malfoy library and somehow he had agreed to ask Lucius for some texts she was interested in.

Now he came to think about it, it had been surprisingly easy. Why did Lucius so readily agree to borrow valuable scrolls from the Malfoy collection to a Mudblood? And why was she so interested in ancient magic? Had they been planning something already? He felt cold and unhappy just thinking about it.

She approaches Lucius in the library.

“Have you seen Sev?”

“Sevvie is in the Hospital wing. Apparently some prank your little boyfriend and his gang played on him.” An icy stare.

She blushes. “He’s NOT my boyfriend. I don’t like him at all, I just want to…”

A raised eyebrow makes her words die out. “Want to…what?” He is mocking her. Lucius always did have that thing about people finishing their sentences.

“I want to be left alone, to not have feelings,” she mutters quietly.

“Surprisingly intelligent for a Mudblood.”

Hearing the insulting word used so casually, she flinches. With a scathing look, she walks away.

He had been so happy that year. He had actually had two friends. It had been hilarious to try and make them stand the sight of one another.


She is sitting at Lucius’ desk, going through a stack of notes. He is lying on his bed with his chin propped up by his hands and elbows, apparently doing the same. How close did they get during the holidays he wasn’t there?

She looks up from her notes. “Are you absolutely sure we have everything we need to know? Even on this fear thing?”

Lucius raises an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my ability to search my own home library?”

“No, I just…”

“You’re not scared, are you? It’s just sex, and I’m sure Sevvie will be much more…gentle with you than I would be.”

How did he not see it back then? Did those two really not see it? He could see the longing on both of their faces like it was written in blood. And what in the world had happened on that spring evening he remembered so little about?

Distracted by the image Lucius’ words probably conjured up in her mind, she begins to mutter an incantation out loud. He silences her by placing a finger on her lips, almost but not quite touching her.

“Are you insane? Even a Mudblood like yourself ought to know you can’t practise that. And I will rather kill myself than let you do that thing to ME.”

She looks offended, but not nearly as offended as she ought to be. She has hexed people for calling her that, but now she just frowns. It’s probably because it’s Lucius.

“That is a nice picture. Maybe I would even be able to teach you manners, like trying to act civilized towards people who are actually helping you,” she snarls. Lucius’ eyes narrow warningly but he says nothing. She continues in a voice in which hurt and curiosity battle for control. “I see why someone would like to do it to you, but I still don’t understand why you want to do it to Sev. He’s practically your shadow anyway.”

Lucius looks like he is seriously considering hexing her. “What I do or don’t do is hardly any of your concern. I never knew Muggle-borns were that nosy.”

It is amazing how much venom one single word can contain. No one but Lucius is able to say ‘Muggle-born’ in a way that makes it sound more of an insult than ‘Mudblood’.

“I will not do this if you are going to be like that,” she says coldly and walks out of the room.

He stirred the memories. There had to be some earlier meetings, something to tell him what it was they were doing…

The library again. This time Lucius approaches Lily, carrying a stack of scrolls and wearing an unreadable expression. She starts as he sits down next to her.

“Sevvie told me you would be interested in these.” He hands her a scroll, carefully not touching her hand. She looks at it and lifts an eyebrow.

“The Involitio ritual? Is there a reason you chose this particular piece?”

“I want something in return for allowing you to exploit our library. Besides, Sevvie thinks you’re pretty.”

She looks completely bewildered by such a seemingly abrupt change of subject. Slowly, comprehension begins to dawn in her eyes. He notices and nods approvingly.

“I see you are as bright as he thinks, too.”

He did not want to see any more. It was obvious where this was going, and he refused to believe it. That wench might have come up with something like this, considering how she had abandoned him right after that night, but not Lucius. Lucius had always appreciated his wit, his sarcasm, his independence. Why would he suggest the Involitio, an ancient ritual now banned in the entire wizarding world? It turned a person into a slave much more effectively and reliably than Imperio. And the result was permanent.

Lucius had to have been quite sure she would accept. The entire Malfoy family would have gone to Azkaban for even owning the scrolls, since all copies were supposedly destroyed centuries ago. All that was known about the ritual was that it included a woman losing her virginity and somehow binding her lover with the blood.

But they had not succeeded…He needed to find her memory of the evening, since his had apparently been tampered with. It was easier to reject all feelings and deal with simple facts. His heart had died already, and memories of emotions with it. He could hardly remember why he was doing this, so he just did it. Plunge into her memories…find the most bittersweet moment…

Two figures in the enchanted rose garden during a Spring Ball. He approaches her. She looks up as she feels a gloved hand under her chin. They stand there, trapped in time for endless seconds. The man speaks softly into her ear, the words insulting but not the tone of voice.

“If you weren’t a Mudblood, I would kiss you.”

He walks away, a ray of light turning his hair into a silver flame. She looks after him until he steps out of sight, but he does not even glance back.

So this moment meant more to her than the evening he took her virginity. He might have guessed. He should never, ever have introduced Lily to Lucius. Well, he would have his revenge.

The room is lit by the last, failing rays of the setting sun. It reeks of sex and ancient magic. Three teenagers are trapped in the moment, in three different positions. A black-haired boy is furiously fucking a red-haired girl, and a slightly older blond boy stands in the corner, watching.

Cold grey eyes bore into equally cold green ones, paying no mind to the sweaty body between them. “This should be me and you,” both eyes are saying wordlessly. “You and me, we are all that matters.” She gestures to the boy in the corner, inviting him to join in. He hesitates, shuddering slightly.

“Come on, this is the moment,” she finally calls to him. The dark boy stops his thrusts and looks from one to the other.

The blond steps up and strokes his hair affectionately. “Everything’s fine, Sevvie. More than fine.” He climbs on the bed behind the pair and gently enters the other boy. The three rock in a shared rhythm for a few moments, until both boys come almost simultaneously.

The younger boy is pulled back until he slips free of the girl. She reaches between her thighs and soon her finger is covered in the mixture of blood and semen. With it she traces a symbol on his forehead, mumbling a strange incantation. The same symbol is drawn onto three identical silver lockets, first by her and then by the other boy.

“What’s going on? What are you doing?” The black-haired boy asks with a note of fear in his voice. The other two exchange a look.

“Nothing. Obviously it didn’t work,” she says and raises a questioning eyebrow. He nods. “Obliviate!”

He forced himself away from the memory, from all the memories. He had seen too much. As he surfaced from the Pensieve, he let his hair cover his face like a greasy veil. It was almost comforting, but only almost. Comfort was but an illusion. The world was a cold, cruel place and people were worse.

Unconsciously he toyed with a silver locket he always wore and asked the person sitting next to him “What went wrong?” He wasn’t quite sure if he meant the ritual or his entire life. “There was never any stupid weakness like love involved, except maybe from my part…” He muttered to himself, feeling emptier than ever.

“But that is exactly it, Severus. YOU were never afraid to love. You see, when you fear, the fear becomes powerful. That was the ingredient he did not, could not, understand.” Dumbledore looked at him over his half-moon glasses. “I am sorry I had to hurt you with these memories, but I needed you to understand. It is him you should blame, not her.”

“How much have you seen?” No one could be so stupid as to blame Lucius alone. The wench had done her share, and could not be let off the hook that easily, even by Dumbledore.

The old Headmaster blushed slightly. “Well, there were things that seemed too personal…That was why I let you explore everything on your own.” The man looked worried for a moment. “But the point is you do not need to give the intelligence you received to him or his master. Not to take revenge on Lily or James.”

He looked at the old man with a new light in his eyes. Those black eyes had become like mirrors; they reflected other’s wishes but let out nothing of what went on inside. “I see now, Albus. Please accept my pledge of allegiance.”