Written for the Winter Snows Challenge one “ ‘Redemption’.
‘It’s New Year's Eve, late at night, and most of the world is out and about, except for two people. One person is lost emotionally, perhaps beyond all mortal repair, and another one is up, unable to sleep, just sitting. What happens when the two meet?’
I am proudly a Gryffindor!
31st December, 1981
(Two months after the first downfall of Lord Voldemort)
He was restless. The world had changed in the last few months more than it had at any time in the past. It had been two months, just two, short months since Tom Riddle had been destroyed and the Potters had been murdered. The young boy, Harry, had been with his aunt and uncle for sixty one days now and in that time Christmas had come and gone with the usual hectic rush and the autumn had gracefully slipped into winter.
Still, here he was less than three hours away from the New Year but unwilling to celebrate like so many others across the world, both Muggle and Magical, were intending to.
With a sigh, he stood up and made his way over to the window of his office. The Hogwarts grounds were silver in the moonlight, each of the trees in the Forbidden Forest laced with ivory. The moon, an almost painful, freezing white shone its eerie glow over the landscape to illuminate a small hut in the grounds and the edge of the towering Quidditch pitch. The lake was as still as glass, fragile and vulnerable.
Across the sloping lawns, a sudden burst of red and gold stars from a premature firework caught his attention. It was only long after the sparks had faded into darkness that the corresponding bang could be heard by those in the school and it chilled him. The delay between seeing the initial explosion and hearing it somehow pierced him to the core. It was like grief, really. There is the initial detonation; the quick, visible, obvious pain stemming from what has taken place which is immediately noticeable to those around you. It is in that time when the sympathy comes from others who they themselves are unaffected by the tragedy.
Ironic, really, that the time when sympathy is given is when it is least wanted or needed.
After the first outburst of emotion, there is only numbness before the real emotional pain begins to let itself be felt. In the beginning, the physical pain masks all thoughts and it is only as the physical scars heal do the scars of the soul truly open, often festering and raw through lack of care.
This was happening. Right now. Someone, beyond the walls of the castle, was alone with nothing but the shadows of the past and memories of unimaginable horrors echoing melancholy thoughts. He had to find this someone before it was too late.
Picking up his midnight blue cloak, he swept out of the door and made his way to the main entrance of Hogwarts. The sounds of the celebrations taking place in the Great Hall caused him to pause momentarily, reflecting on the things that were, things that are and things that might have been. With a gentle sigh, Albus slipped out of the oak doors into the grounds and noticed as he did so how much the pearly snow contrasted with the fathomless blackness of the star spangled sky.
The moment he was outside the wards, Albus Disapparated.
He was standing in the hallway of a small, disused mill at the end of a road called Spinner’s End absentmindedly brushing a few flakes of silvery snow from his velvet robes. The air of the place was particularly dismal and run down and, since it was in the middle of a predominantly Muggle area, one of the most unlikely places on earth where you would expect to find a wizard.
“Severus?” Albus murmured as he opened the door with a casual flick of his wand.
Not to my taste but each to their own, Albus thought grimly as the door opened to reveal the cramped room lying beyond.
The quiet crackling of the fire was all that broke the silence of the small, shadowy living room of the house on the outskirts of a northern mill town. Bookcases lined the walls with books haphazardly forced onto the groaning shelves. An untouched glass, half full of a clear, golden liquid, lay a few scant inches from the wizard in question’s left hand on a rickety table. The chair the occupant was sitting in was small and threadbare but somehow the high armrests gave the impression of protection to whoever possessed it.
It was hardly surprising really that the occupant was curled up in the nest of wood and material with one hand supporting his head and his eyes closed in defeat. Not even a gentle knock at the door could startle the occupant into moving or responding.
Professor Snape refused to raise his head to look at the Headmaster as he gave a short, uncharacteristically rude reply.
“Go away.”
Smiling sadly, Albus walked across the room and stood behind the younger wizard, laying a gentle hand on his tense back. “Why aren’t you enjoying all the celebrations?” he asked quietly. “It seems everyone in the country is celebrating the upcoming year “ I must have passed ten different parties on my way here from Hogwarts.”
Professor Snape, if possible, stiffened even more and sharply shrugged Albus’ hand from his shoulder.
“Severus?” the Headmaster prompted gently again.
“I am feeling… unwell,” the Potions master answered after a moment, still refusing to look up. Resignedly, Albus stepped away from his clearly resentful former student and settled himself into the scarlet armchair with gold trim that he had just conjured.
Just for provocation purposes, obviously…
“I am sorry to here that, Severus. Influenza? Or insomnia again?”
“Yes,” the Potions master responded unhelpfully, his long fingers slightly pinching the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to reduce the headache pulsing behind his temples as he cast the newly transfigured chair a glare of uttermost loathing.
Several minutes passed in bitter silence. The familiar twinkle in Albus’ eyes faded as the seconds lengthened. He knew the wizard before him blamed himself for what had happened and the Headmaster knew he needed to support the younger man, even if that help would be rejected.
“Have you made any contact with your associates in the last few moths?” he asked innocently, breaking the quiet at last.
Snape shot him a look of pure loathing before spitting back, “Traitors are not popular, Albus.”
“But they do not know,” the Headmaster corrected carefully. “The other Death Eaters were not there and they will only know the truth if you have told them, but I do not believe that you have. The only living witnesses are you and young Harry and he will not remember. I am the only other person who knows of the part you played and that is a truth I will take to my grave.”
To Albus’ surprise, he heard the dark wizard before him correct him with almost inaudible muttering.
“No, Headmaster. There are three witnesses “ three people who know the truth. You are forgetting the Dark Lord.”
“So he is alive then?” Albus asked, suddenly sharp, as he held eye contact with the unreadable wizard before him.
“No,” Snape answered curtly with a slight sneer, “he is not dead but he is not alive either. He just… exists. As a wraith or similar, I suppose. The Mark has not gone.”
“Mark?” Albus asked curiously.
“The Dark Mark, burnt into every supporter of the Dark Lord on joining his ranks. It is his method of summoning us when we have gatherings; the Mark burns and we are to Apparate instantly to his side. You cannot remove it.” As he spoke, Severus rolled up his sleeve and displayed the ugly, fading tattoo to Albus who merely glanced at it without comment.
So that is how Tom contacts his followers… I had no idea…
“Were these meetings… regular?” Albus asked, well aware he was on dangerous ground.
His question was responded with a tight lipped frown and a short: “It depends.”
“Depends on what?” he asked lightly, probing the Death Eater tentatively.
“Who you are, how loyal you are, how skilled you are, your usefulness at that given time, whether you have any special talents related to the tasks He is carrying out… You will also be called more frequently if your loyalty is being tested.”
The Headmaster let the younger wizard brood in silence “ he had no desire to know the exact details of the Dark Revels. Seeing the state that the Order’s spies had returned in or, more accurately, not returned in, he could surmise fairly accurately that they were not pleasant.
The Order has had six spies so far, he thought suddenly, a chill creeping up his spine. Of those six, one has never been found, one is insane, two were discovered after only one meeting and the others were murdered after a few days. Even if Tom has gone for now, he will be back…
“Are you doing anything nice in the New Year? Going on holiday at all?”
The deliberate absurdity of the question caught Snape off guard completely.
“Holiday?” he repeated incredulously. “You are asking me whether I am going on holiday?!”
“Certainly,” Albus answered sincerely. “You haven’t been away recently I believe and I wondered if you would be going in the New Year or are you saving yourself for the half term break?”
Snape curled his lip in disdain as he replied, “Oh yes, I remember now; my last holiday application to the Dark Lord got turned down. The reply was something along the lines of ‘not unless you want to die’ followed by ‘Crucio’ if I remember rightly.”
Albus shook his head slightly at the Death Eater’s sarcasm.
“There was no need for that, Severus, I was being serious. Everyone needs a break at different points in their life, most importantly after troubling times. You need a holiday not least because you are clearly exhausted. I know life has not been easy for you which is all the more reason to take this chance and relax for awhile. Especially after what has happened since Hallowe’en.”
Something snapped inside the Potions master. The rogue subject that they had both been dancing around for the last hour or so had finally been spoken of aloud. Snape put his head back in his hands, his trembling stemming from horror, fear or even regret, Albus never knew.
“Never say the name of that night ever again,” he hissed in a slightly muffled voice.
“Hallowe’en,” Albus repeated calmly.
“DON’T…” Snape shouted suddenly, standing up as his face twisted in pain, “SAY THAT AGAIN! I CAN’T… I HATE IT!”
Albus watched as the Death Eater suddenly fell back into his chair, his whole body shuddering from the torturous memories incessantly plaguing him. His wand fell from his limp hand, clattering to the floor with a gentle rattle. The sound made the young wizard flinch violently, recoiling from the sound.
“I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled indistinctly after a few seconds. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know it would be them!”
“Lily and James?” Albus asked in a low voice.
“But… But… But I didn’t know. If only I’d known… I could have stopped it. It would never have happened if it hadn’t been for… It’s my fault!”
“It was not your fault, Severus,” Albus said softly, having no trouble seeing through his former student’s shattered defences.
“Easy for you to say,” Severus spat in response, rapidly regaining control of himself with unnerving professionalism.
“Oh no it isn’t,” Albus corrected with a bitter laugh. “I knew Tom when he was at school, I even taught him, but I could see what he was likely to become. He used anyone and everyone to make his own ends meet without hesitation “ once he has set his mind to something it is impossible to make him see reason. It was Voldemort who murdered the Potters, Severus, not you.”
“And where did the Dark Lord get his information? Me, you fool “ I told him what I had heard! And“”
“… And then you came to me,” Albus interrupted before continuing doggedly, “and I put in place measures for their protection. It seems, alas, that this protection was not enough in the end but I did my best. Your part in this was not through your own making no matter what way you choose to look at the whole situation.”
“That’s a new one; tell me, Albus, how do you accidentally eavesdrop on a private conversation of the person you were ordered to spy on and then happen to tell the Dark Lord?”
“Severus,” Albus implored to the wizard before him, “we’ve been through this before; I wish you would believe me when I said that I do not blame you. Nobody blames you.”
“Potter will.” Snape’s curt answer was ice cold, his face twisting into a sour sneer.
“He will learn, Severus. Harry will not judge you for something you were ordered to do. It is unlikely he will ever know of your part in this.”
Severus looked up at the Headmaster for the briefest of seconds before shaking his head in disbelief, laughing softly.
“Oh, he will know. You just wait. When he goes to Hogwarts someone will tell him eventually; probably at the most inappropriate time possible. Merlin help me when somebody does - I will be as good as dead in his eyes. He will kill me.”
“He will not hear of your part in all this from me,” the Headmaster replied without hesitation. “And if he finds out, I sincerely hope he will have the maturity to see past the obvious. He will see reason, Severus. Eventually.”
“From my relatively vast past experience, rest assured that people usually do not take kindly to being left an orphan, especially when their parents are dead not because of some Muggle accident but because they were murdered. How will the boy react when he discovers that his parents are dead because they were betrayed by an arrogant, obnoxious Death Eater who wanted to feel special?”
“He will be grateful,” Albus started sternly, refusing to accept his former student’s self criticism. “He will be grateful when he learns the truth. He will be grateful that you regretted what you had done when you realised all that it would entail.
“You were doing your job and you made a decision which, in the end, you regretted. Someone had to die that night, Severus, please understand that. Please, you must know that you cannot save them all.”
“No,” the Potions master responded heavily, “but there are two people dead and one person orphaned because of me.”
“Then let us pray that that number will not have any reason to increase,” Albus chided gently.
A loud chime echoed through the room just as bangs began to echo from outside the window, flashes of light seeping through the curtains like water through sandstone.
“Midnight,” Severus breathed, glancing at the ebony clock on the mantle piece.
“Yes,” Albus confirmed just as he glanced at the younger wizard. “Midnight on New Year’s Day, the first day of the first month in 1982. It is time for a fresh start, Severus, just let the past die. Wipe the slate clean and live life the way you once believed you could. You owe yourself that, if nothing else.
“I must leave,” he murmured, standing up and pulling his midnight blue cloak around his shoulders once more as he surveyed the Potions master carefully. “I need to return to Hogwarts and see what level of chaos has ensued since my departure. When I left, the fourth and fifth years were a little, shall we say, exuberant. Just think about what I have said though, Severus. You were meant to be whole “ Lily would not want you to be trapped forever in what has already happened. Move on out of the ashes of your past and into the promise of your future. Remember, just because you have moved on does not mean you have forgotten what you have left behind. Goodnight.”
Calmly, Albus slipped towards the doorway and reached out a hand to pull the door closed behind him. Just as he turned to latch the door, he heard a small voice whisper:
“Thank you.”
Albus smiled, the corners of his silver beard twitching slightly.
“You are welcome, Severus,” he breathed just as he Disapparated with the smallest of ‘pops’ back to Hogwarts, leaving the Potions master alone again.
“So then,” Severus whispered to himself after a few moments, quietly sipping his brandy and totally lost in thought. “A New Year, a new start. I suppose there is always the promise of tomorrow… A promise of something to live for…”
The bittersweet snow continued to peacefully drift past the frosted window of Spinner’s End long after the fireworks had faded into unbreakable silence and Albus Dumbledore had closed the door quietly behind him.
A/N: So…
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is my first attempt at a challenge fic and once again, thanks very much for reading! ~Stormy x