A/N: Submission for the Quarterly Challenge, mythological or historical figure, from Ravensgryff of Gryffindor House.
Low hanging branches swiped and slapped at the fleeing man tauntingly; the wind whispered, "Coward.” Brambles poked and slashed at his robes, inflicting the punishment he knew he deserved, clawing at him like a raging Hippogryff. He paused to listen and heard an owl hoot, then looked up toward the sound to find the creature glaring down at him through accusing yellow eyes. The wind seemed to whisper, “Murderer.” Out of nowhere, the limp form of Albus Dumbledore stared blankly at him, pleading, “Severus … please.” Severus Snape stopped short with a soft gasp and threw his hands up before his face to shield himself from the dread image ahead. He thought to himself, how did he get here? It can’t be. He shook his head and the image morphed into a fallen log, lying bleakly across the path. He ran a hand over his face and gingerly stepped over the log with his eyes closed. The night air was damp and heavy, making it feel warmer than it probably was, causing his clothes to stick to his skin, feeling as if they were closing in on him, binding him. Although they were outdoors, he felt a bit claustrophobic. Yet, he continued on through the vicious Forbidden Forest dragging Draco Malfoy behind him.
Professor Snape’s thoughts spun out of control through his mind, of all that had happened. He suddenly veered from the path, and his spindly legs carried him through the dense brush until he found the spot he was looking for: a small cave, dank and dreary, with a small ring of stones for a fire in the center of it. Severus had used this cave on several occasions long ago, and hadn’t been sure that he would still be able to find it. He grabbed Draco’s upper arm and led him inside. Holding his wand up in his other hand, he said, “Lumos!” and illuminated the darkness.
Once inside, Draco slumped against a wall and slid to the floor, a shocked, miserable expression upon his face. Severus stood stock still, fighting to regain his composure which had teetered right along the edge of oblivion up until the moment that Potter called him a coward. Then all control and reason had slid gracelessly over the edge and into the abyss. Finally overcoming the typhoon of emotions within, he began to breathe deeper and gained control once more. There was no time for self-indulgent outbursts or any such acts of self-pity. The sands of time were spilling away with a frightening speed.
He looked across the small space at the young man, and then waved his wand toward the fire pit, and a tiny fire sizzled to life before them. He kept the fire small to lessen the chance that it could be seen from outside the cave; it still managed to cast flickering shadows along the wall of the cave that reminded him of being before the Wizengamot, waiting for them to pass judgment. The shadows travelled so high upward that they disappeared into the darkness, implying the uncertainty of their immediate future.
Draco was hugging his legs and shivering although it was early summer. He had his head buried in his knees and was quietly crying. Snape knew this more from being able to empathize with the boy rather than from any outward signs. Draco had been groomed since childhood to hide his feelings.
“Draco, we have little time and there is much you need to understand,” he began, as he turned his back to the boy in order to allow him time to compose himself. Snape would not shame or weaken him more than he was already doing to himself. He continued slowly, “I can sense (or at least hope) that the gravity of what you were being commanded to do is now fully descending upon you. Understand that I could not, in good conscience, allow you to become a killer, nor do I believe that you would have wanted to become one. You have found yourself between the proverbial rock and hard place. Kill or be killed. What you must realize, by now, is that either way, it would not have mattered. Your life was forfeit from the start.”
Draco lifted his head only slightly, “Yes, sir.”
Snape slowly turned to face him and appraised him for a moment with cold, black eyes. “You are aware, then, that you were promised to Greyback?”
Draco ran an arm across his eyes before answering. “Greyback threatened me not long ago, because I was taking too long in my mission. He said that he would kill me if it weren’t done soon. Then he ...”
Draco’s voice had a hollow quality to it as he spoke and then he just trailed off.
Snape finished for him. “Bit you?”
Draco nodded and still would not lift his eyes to look at Snape. So, I was right, the professor thought to himself. “How did you know, Professor?”
“I could tell from your symptoms, Draco. However, since you did not confide in me when this happened,” he asked as gently as he could, “what did you do when you transformed?”
Now, Draco looked up at him, confused. “That’s just it, sir, I haven’t. There’s been one full moon since it happened. I had Crabbe and Goyle look out for me and I stayed in the Room of Requirement for the night, but nothing happened. I mean, I felt ill and craved raw meat. The room provided it for me. But nothing else happened. He was only partially transformed when he did it. Do you think that made the difference?”
Snape didn’t respond immediately. This was a disturbing turn of events. He had been unaware that this was what Greyback was now doing, biting children - even in his more human form. There wasn’t enough time to ponder the implications. “Possibly, Draco. However, your lycanthropy is not our biggest problem right now. You will have to go into hiding. If you return to the Dark Lord’s service, he will turn you over to Greyback. If you return to your mother, he will have you, and probably her as well, killed. Do you understand this?”
Draco squeezed his hands against his eyes then clutched at his platinum hair for a moment. “Yes, sir. Sir … what can I do?”
The older man experienced a pang of pity toward the boy, remembering all too clearly his own journey through darkness...
On the night that the Dark Lord had given Severus the “wonderful news”, that he would be the one to destroy the Potter’s son, he slunk back to his flat on Spinner’s End feeling as if the universe had just imploded upon him. It was a cloudy night; the air was heavy with rain and an occasional flash of lightning would brighten the sky like an odd secret code being flashed at him from heaven. Perhaps the heavens were trying to send him some message, guiding him towards escape from this terrible mission, but he couldn’t see it yet. He sat stiffly in the corner of the aging couch, and stared at a weakly flickering candle wilting in the center of the coffee table. The sleeves of his black robes were wet with the snot and tears that had been flowing until only an hour ago. Now there were none left, only a hollow numbness and the vestiges of a headache. How could he reverse the betrayal that he’d committed? How could he warn Lily that her son was the Dark Lord’s next target? He refused to move until he had an answer.
“You need to make a decision, Draco. Whatever that decision is, you will have to see through to the end, no matter what happens. The options are bleak to say the least. You can run, and pray that the Dark Lord doesn’t find you and that he is eventually defeated. Or, you can join the fight against him.”
Snape let these statements linger between them. He could see Draco’s mind revolving the choices through his mind, torn between loyalty to his family and the beliefs he’d been indoctrinated with from birth, and the strong desire for self-preservation.
“Sir, do you mean to say --”
“Yes, Draco, I have been working for the Order all along. There isn’t time to explain everything to you, but I can tell you that much. You see, it doesn’t matter that you know now because my life is as lost as yours is. The Dark Lord will think I’ve disobeyed his orders and robbed Greyback of his, shall we say, payment. The Order will want to avenge Dumbledore. I’m sure the Ministry will be looking for the both of us as well. However, to my way of thinking, there’s a better chance for the both of us to survive, by helping the Order and the Ministry, at this point. If he were to defeat them, he’d never forgive us and would destroy us promptly afterward. Regardless of your decision, I will do my best to protect you and your mother. But for my part, I will fight for the Order whether they know it or not.”
Draco thought for a while longer, then asked, “But, sir, how did you come to work for Dumbledore and the Order? Everyone’s been convinced, even the Dark Lord, that you were acting as a double agent …”
“Yes, and so I was. That is a long tale, Draco, one that would be beneficial for you to hear. We have a long journey and I’ll tell you what I can along the way. Suffice it to say that it all began with Lily Potter, the Dark Lord, and the Curse of Arachne ...
Now, we’ll need to find an empty Muggle house …”
At the mouth of the cave, a chill breeze pierced Snape like a dagger in his back, and sent an involuntary shiver through his body. He briefly wondered if he was leading Draco into more danger by trying to sway him toward working for the Order of the Phoenix. He could only hope that he was not about to betray yet another trust by breaking the promise he’d made to Draco’s mother months ago. With a few twitchy movements he was at the mouth of the cave, scanning and listening, poised for flight.