Obviously Dumbledore wasn't talking only about Sirius, and Snape didn't know what to say to this. He had a sudden urge to laugh. Dumbledore could be so exasperating! He had wanted, almost needed, to shout and rage at this man. Pithily worded sentences, composed and stored over many years, were queuing up in his mind -- waiting to be spat out. And with one short speech, Dumbledore had side-stepped the whole issue, turning it into a comment on his, Snape's, need for forgiveness. He mumbled something about "completely different situation," but Dumbledore had started to speak at the same time and did not hear him.
"Severus, your desire for vengeance against James and Sirius is not enough to justify becoming a Death Eater. You could have revenged yourself on them quite easily without choosing to serve Voldemort. You must discover the true reason."
In the forest, a glade had appeared where previously there had only been brambles. Sunlight danced on the undergrowth, but there was another thicket further ahead where no light could penetrate. Reluctantly, Snape pushed his way between the trees and ...
"The Dark Lord is not altogether wrong," he said. his was his chance to explain his master's theories of separation to Dumbledore. They had made so much sense to Snape that he could not believe Dumbledore would not agree once he understood. "I mean," he continued quickly, trying not to notice the appalled expression on Dumbledore's face, "of course it is wrong to kill and torture, to cause so much suffering to others. But consider his goal -- to keep wizards and Muggles apart. His methods are wrong, but ultimately it would be for their own good."
Shaking his head, Dumbledore said, "And why do you think it so important to separate Muggles from people like us? Dig a little deeper, Severus."
Snape was tripping over twisted roots, branches whipping his face. Dumbledore must know how difficult this was for him. It would be much easier if Dumbledore simply told him what he was supposed to be looking for, and then they could get on with the occlumency lesson. This wasn't going to happen, though. He struggled between two saplings and found himself in a dark, damp, lifeless place. Broken reeds were reflected perfectly in a stagnant pool. On the ground lay fallen twigs and branches, so decayed that it was hard to imagine they had ever been alive. He moved forward through the darkness, accidentally kicking something -- a stone or a piece of rotten wood. It landed in the water with a soft splash and, as the ripples spread from the centre of the pool ...
"My parents," said Snape, softly. Was he really going to have to continue? Dumbledore already knew the miserable details of his parents' marriage. He glanced across the desk. Yes, Dumbledore was looking expectantly at him, waiting for more. "They were never happy together -- should never have married. He was always so – I mean, he was very strict. How could she defend herself? She was only a Muggle."
He stopped.
"Go on," said Dumbledore, as the silence lengthened.
"She tried to run away once. Did you know that? Didn't get very far, though. He brought her back. Made her stay. Promised he'd be kinder. And she trusted him. Even I, young as I was, could see how foolish that was. He did try for a while, a few weeks, but ... in the end she ... you know she ... " Snape tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He hated Dumbledore for this! "She killed herself." He fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of his sleeve, wishing that Dumbledore would look away. "If she'd been a witch she would never have had to resort to that. If she'd been a witch they might have been happy together. Everything would have been different ... " He cleared his throat and stared for a few moments at the phoenix, asleep on its perch. Why couldn't Dumbledore look away? "And then my father was -- was killed. I didn't even know she had a brother! He's in a Muggle prison now. And my parents are dead. Muggles should have nothing to do with magic. The Dark Lord is right about that."
Dumbledore removed his glasses and wearily massaged the bridge of his nose. "Not every marriage between a Muggle and a witch or wizard ends in tragedy, Severus. Has it never occurred to you that it may have been your parents' personalities, rather than their magical abilities, that caused them to live so unhappily together?"
In the forest, a small shaft of sunlight broke through the gloom, illuminating the far side of the pool. Snape, ignoring this and trying to hold onto the beliefs that had fuelled his decisions, frowned at Dumbledore and said, "If she had been a witch she wouldn't be dead. She would have fought back. It was because she was a Muggle--"
"No, Severus," said Dumbledore, quickly, "it was because she was unhappy. She did not have to kill herself. There are always other options. But that is what she chose to do. If your father had been a Muggle, like your mother, he may still have driven her to choose suicide as an escape from the marriage. I know this is difficult for you to hear," he said, as Snape shifted mutinously, "but let me repeat, relationships between Muggles and wizards or witches can and do turn out very successfully."
Another beam of light shot down into the clearing, and birdsong and the hum of insects disturbed the silence. Snape did not want to let go, though. Even though Dumbledore's arguments were rational and sensible, almost the exact reverse of Malfoy's reasoning. As a bee tumbled out of a nearby bluebell, Snape angrily berated himself. What was he so afraid of? It didn't take a genius to see that Dumbledore was right about this. He had never, not once, really seen his mother for who she was. Always he had pictured her through the filter of "she was a Muggle." He had simplified his parents' problems in his mind. He had acted like a child and had never stopped seeing them with a child's eyes. They were dead. He should let them go. He stepped forward, the light briefly dazzling his eyes before he plunged once more into the tangled interior of the wood.
Seconds or hours later, for time had no jurisdiction in this forest, Snape stopped abruptly. The darkness was absolute, the silence deafening. Tentatively, he edged one foot forward. There was nothing, no ground -- just space. He picked up a stone and threw it into the pit, straining his ears for the sound of its landing. Nothing. He backed away.
"Severus? Have you found the answer?"
"I -- er -- I was intrigued by the Dark Lord's ambition to achieve immortality," replied Snape, talking very fast. "How could I refuse such an opportunity -- the chance to create the most sought-after potion in our history?"
"You could have developed such a potion at St. Mungo's," Dumbledore retorted. "You are stalling again. I ask you once more -- why did you become a Death Eater? Why did you come to me?"
Snape stepped up to the edge of the void. He wouldn't survive if he fell into it. How could he?
"A D-Death Eater -- friend of the f-family -- favour," he stuttered, clutching at his head, hiding his face. He didn't want to die like this.
"No, Severus!" said Dumbledore as he strode around the desk and grabbed Snape's shoulder. "Say it."
"I --" Snape rocked back and forth on the brink of nothingness. "I was afraid," he mumbled.
"More than that!" cried Dumbledore, his grip on Snape's shoulder very tight.
He had no choice. He fell. And, as the blackness engulfed him, a white-hot rage erupted inside and he screamed at Dumbledore, "I WAS AFRAID! I HAD NOTHING!" He jumped out of his seat, away from Dumbledore, who he couldn't help noticing was looking oddly pleased. "I WAS LONELY!"
The chasm in his mind was growing, pulling everything down into it. Even as the chaos was threatening to overwhelm his thoughts, he could hear a small voice in his mind. Was that it? That's what he was so afraid of acknowledging? Loneliness? Self-loathing began to build in his mind. He was weak. Pathetic. Had he really ruined his life's chances just to have some company? Never again, he swore to himself. From now on he would rely on himself alone.
"Legilimens," said Dumbledore, from the other side of the office.