Chapter One
~x~
DECEMBER 1978 – 2 YEARS LATER
Pulling his cloak tighter about him to shield himself from the biting wind, Severus Snape ploughed through the thick layer of snow that coated Diagon Alley. His black hair whipped across his face, creating a tangled mess, but he didn’t seem to care. As he walked, Severus avoided the gazes of other wizards and witches who passed by, not wanting to see their fear, knowing he was part of its cause. Soon, he took a passageway that led him into Knockturn Alley. Almost immediately, he sensed a difference in the atmosphere; the magic here was darker.
At last, Severus stopped outside an apothecary. He lightly banged the side of his shoes against the doorstep to remove loose snow before entering. The familiar, pungent smell of an array of potions assaulted his nostrils, calming Severus somewhat. He removed his cloak and hung it from a hat stand beside the front door. He then removed a hair elastic from his pocket to tie his tatty, black mop back; it was impossible to brew with hair dangling about his face. As he stretched the green elastic in his fingers, a small, rueful smile touched his lips. Deirdre had presented it to him one day in class, saying that he drove her insane by constantly tucking his hair behind his ears.
Deirdre…
He hadn’t seen her in months, not since they had parted ways on Platform 9 ¾. She had gone back to Ireland, while he had found himself back at Spinner’s End, for a time. They had become fast friends after their shaky beginning, yet he had never been brave enough to tell her that his feelings for her had run deeper than friendship. Everything about their friendship had been so perfect, and Severus had not wanted ruin it. She was the only person who he had let his guard down with after fifth year. In fact, he had confided in Deirdre concerning things he had never shared with Lily. During his last two years at school, his feelings for Lily had dwindled to a treasured memory, and she no longer held prominence in his heart.
The last six months, though, had been the longest, and the loneliest of his life. Of course, Deirdre had kept her promise, and he had received several letters from her since they had left school, all expressing her wish to see him again. And he desperately wanted to see her, but he couldn’t; not now, not after what he’d done.
–Ah, Severus, you managed to survive the elements, then.â€
Turning, Severus nodded at his employer, Hector Gastrell. –We faced worse at Hogwarts.â€
–No doubt, no doubt,†Gastrell said, rubbing his long, bony hands together, a cue that he wanted to get straight down to business. –I’ve had several orders placed since yesterday, and with this weather I can’t see us getting many customers today, so we should be able to finish the list by this evening.â€
Severus crossed the small shop to the counter where Gastrell had set out the various orders. Several were simply for cures for the common cold, but others were more complex, darker. On instinct, Severus placed his right hand over his left arm, where the skin had burned with white hot intensity the previous evening. He despised Lucius Malfoy for luring him in and preying on his weakness – money, or rather, his lack of it. With his deceased father’s debts having been bequeathed to him, Lucius’ offer to fund his ambition to study under the great Potion masters in Europe had been too tempting to turn down. If only he had known how much it would cost in return.
–If you would deal with these orders, Severus, I will see to the rest of them,†Gastrell said, handing a bundle of parchments to him.
–Of course,†he replied.
Making his way into to the potions laboratory attached to the back of the shop, Severus set about gathering up what he needed. Alone, he allowed his hardened features to relax a little, but kept a wary eye on the door. Hector Gastrell was not a Death Eater, but Severus did not trust him. He seemed like the type of man who would betray his own flesh and blood for personal profit. Severus was selective in what he talked about with his employer, keeping their conversations to Potions and the mundane things of life. His naivety in placing his faith in Lucius had taught Severus a hard, but important lesson.
Throughout the rest of the morning, Severus chopped, sliced, and ground ingredients. He took great pride in his work, never bottling anything he considered substandard. Gastrell paid him a fairly decent wage, though it would never compare to what he could earn if he had his own apothecary. He had a whole notebook crammed full of adjustments that could be made to existing potions, along with a dozen of his own concoctions. However, between summons from Voldemort, raids, and the countless potions his Master forced to him brew, Severus was simply left with dreams of what his life could have been.
Severus stabbed the point of his knife into the chopping board.
He hated his life; he hated what he had become. Yes, he had a passion for the Dark Arts, with its hidden mysteries and its euphoric power. But murdering Muggles and anyone else who opposed Voldemort sickened Severus. It seared his very soul each time he was forced to carry out such dark deeds.
–Severus,†Gastrell called. –I need you.â€
Wiping his hands clean on a damp cloth, Severus left the laboratory, hardening his features as he went. Gastrell, a tall, spindly man, was writing the address on a parcel when Severus entered the main shop. He glanced at a cauldron bubbling away under a blue flame behind the older wizard. The acidic vapour rising from it told Severus that it was a deadly poison, but he said nothing. He preferred to let Gastrell think he was merely mediocre when it came to potion making. The less the man knew about him, the better.
–What do you need, sir?†he asked.
–The weather is too treacherous to send this parcel by owl, so I want you to take it to St. Mungo’s.â€
Severus nodded and went to retrieve his cloak, welcoming the short break from his work. His employer was a shrewd businessman, accepting orders from anyone. It didn’t matter who their allegiance was to, just as long as they could pay. After he had wrapped himself up, Severus tucked the parcel under his arm and opened the front door. An icy blast threatened to cleave the flesh from his cheeks, but he lowered his head and plunged out into the snow. Up ahead, several youngsters were throwing snowballs, though one menacing glare from Severus warned them not to target him.
Once he had reached the end row of shops in Diagon Alley, Severus disapparated to St. Mungo’s. The wizarding hospital was hiving with people; no doubt the arctic-like weather was causing all manner of accidents. Two men sat on chairs in the waiting area, with one cradling a broken broom in his arms, while the other held a cloth to a nasty gash on his head. Severus couldn’t believe that any one could be so stupid to take a broom out in a blizzard. He was actually half tempted, though, to ask if they were related to either James Potter or Sirius Black.
Shaking his head slightly as he walked past the two men, he approached the receptionist, then said, –I wish to speak with Healer Weir.â€
–For what purpose?†the stern looking receptionist replied.
–I have a parcel for her.â€
–Leave it here and I’ll see she gets it.â€
–I’m afraid that won’t do,†Severus replied patronisingly, watching as her lips thinned. –I need to speak with Healer Weir myself.â€
She glared at with him with what Severus assumed was her most intimidating stare, but he didn’t flinch. Finally, she tore her gaze away from and removed her wand. Murmuring a simple charm, she then spoke into her wand, calling for Healer Weir to come to reception.
–She’ll be with you shortly,†she said curtly, then waved Severus out of the way so she could speak to the man behind him.
Severus kept his cool as he stepped to one side, knowing that he couldn’t afford to insult Gastrell’s patrons. Voldemort certainly didn’t pay his bills, and he had never seen one Knut of the money Lucius had promised him.
–Hey, you there,†the receptionist called to him after a few minutes. –Healer Weir’s assistant is here.â€
Turning his head to the receptionist, Severus said snidely, –I asked specifically to speak with Healer Weir.â€
–I’m sorry, but Healer Weir is busy at the moment.â€
At the sound of the soft Irish brogue, Severus snapped his gaze to a young woman standing by the reception desk.
–Hello, Severus.â€
–Deirdre,†he said in barely a whisper.
She smiled at him, causing a familiar warmth to spread through him. –Come with me, Severus.â€
The receptionist eyed him cagily as he followed Deirdre down a corridor, but Severus paid her no heed. At the end of the corridor, she opened a door and motioned for him to go in. He glanced about the small, but neatly ordered office, quickly realising that it was hers. The door then closed with a soft click, and before he could say a word, Deirdre had thrown her arms around him.
–It’s so good to see you again, Severus,†she said, hugging him tightly.
Severus returned her embrace, peace filling his heart for the time in months. –What are you doing here?†he finally asked.
–I sent you a letter, didn’t you get it?â€
Severus was thankful her head was still tucked under his chin so she couldn’t see the shame in his eyes. –I’ve been kept busy in London…I haven’t been home in a few weeks.â€
At last Deirdre pulled away from him, offering him a seat. A hint of a smile played on his lips when she dragged a chair from behind her desk, placing it next to his. Shifting slightly so he could see her clearly, Severus silently took her in. Her curly, chocolate hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and he admired her delicate features. But it was her blue eyes that truly captivated him.
–You look worn out, Severus,†she said, concern etched on her face. –What have you been doing with yourself?â€
–I’m fine, Deirdre.†he said. –Now, tell me why you’re in London.â€
Deidre wasn’t convinced by Severus’ answer, but she knew better than to press him on the matter. It was a rare occasion when he completely opened himself up to her, and now, it seemed, would not be one of those times. She was already somewhat worried about him, as his replies to her letters had been short and general. Usually he would elaborate on a new spell or potion he had created, but he had been strangely silent on that over the past months.
–Someone dropped out of the Healer’s training programme at St. Mungo’s,†she started, pushing her concerns to one side. –And they contacted the Irish Healer’s Association to ask if I would like to transfer here from Dublin. I jumped at the chance. The hospital in Dublin is brilliant, but it doesn’t quite compare to St. Mungo’s.â€
–How long are you here for?†Severus asked.
Deidre smiled at him. –They’ve offered me a permanent position here once I graduate. So, I guess I’m here for the long haul.â€
A torrent of mixed emotions swept over Severus. Part of him was thrilled she was staying, while another part dreaded it. She was one of the few who had ever really understood him, but even she would turn her back on him the moment she saw the Dark Mark.
–That’s great news,†he said. –I’m pleased for you.â€
–Thanks,†she replied somewhat downhearted.
She had honestly thought he would be delighted to know she was living so close to him now. Of course, she hadn’t expected him to grin like a Cheshire cat, but she had hoped for a little more enthusiasm. There was something not quite right with him, she could sense it. Severus had always been quiet and withdrawn, but this was different.
–Would you like a cup of tea?†she asked, rising from her chair, hoping she could get him to talk to her.
Severus nodded. –All right, but I can’t stay long, I have to get back to the apothecary.â€
In a few minutes, they were both sipping on steaming cups of tea. Deirdre studied him carefully, noting how pale his skin was and how his lean frame was almost skeletal-like. He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly or eaten a decent meal in months. She felt her apprehension grow tenfold. Severus was more than just a friend to her – much more. Deirdre looked down into her teacup, absently swirling the hot liquid around in it. But she knew where his heart really lay. After all, who could ever surpass Lily Evans?
Choking back her emotions, she said, –How’s work going at the apothecary?â€
–Tolerable, I suppose.â€
–I hope your boss is going to give you a good reference for your studies in Europe.†she said, well aware of Severus’ ambition.
–Things have changed, Deirdre. I’m not going to Europe anymore.â€
–What? But why –â€
–Lack of funding,†he said, deciding to only tell her part of the truth. –I appealed to the Ministry for funding in July, but they turned me down. They said that I would only be eligible if I studied under British potion masters.â€
–You mean like Cuthbert Mantle? Yes, you’ll learn plenty from the likes of him,†she remarked dryly.
–Try telling that to the Ministry.â€
–What about a private sponsor; have you looked into that?†she asked, hopeful.
A bitter taste rose in Severus’ throat. –I have, but so far I’ve been unsuccessful.â€
–It’s so unfair,†she exclaimed, upset and angry he was being denied the chance to fulfil his ambition.
–Life is unfair, Deirdre.â€
–I don’t understand how you can be so stoic about this.â€
He levelled his charcoal gaze at her. –What other way would you have me act?â€
–I’m sorry, Severus,†she said with a heavy sigh. –I just hate it that someone with a brilliant mind like yours is being held back by some stupid regulation.â€
–I’ll survive, Deirdre,†he reassured her, but wished he could be honest with one person who truly cared about his wellbeing.
He drank several more mouthfuls of tea then rose from his chair. –I should be heading back now. You will make sure Healer Weir gets this parcel, won’t you?â€
–Well, I was going to throw it in the bin after you left…†she said with a smirk.
Severus narrowed his eyes slightly. –You haven’t changed a bit, have you?â€
Laughing softly, Deirdre reached out to hug him again. She wasn’t disappointed when he wrapped his arms around her, but she swallowed hard as she once more felt how painfully thin he was. Was he sick? Or was it something more sinister? She didn’t know, but somehow she’d get the truth from him.
–What are you doing this evening?†she asked.
–I’m not sure yet,†he answered. –Nothing, hopefully.â€
–I finish here at six, so do you want to get some dinner and catch up?â€
He struggled a moment with what he should do, but finally he nodded. –I’ll meet you here at six.â€
–You don’t have to come all the way back here, I can walk –â€
–I insist, Deidre. It’s not safe to be out alone at night.â€
She caught the undercurrent of uneasiness in his silky timbre. The war with Voldemort was escalating and no one could predict where or when the next attack would happen. Despite the looming terror, though, it was a comfort to know he cared for her.
–All right, Severus, but I was thinking we could go to my flat to eat. All the restaurants will be packed with Christmas shoppers.â€
–That suits me fine,†he said, relieved by her suggestion.
He hated crowds, but he also feared that they might be seen together by those connected to Voldemort. The last thing he wanted was for the Dark Lord’s attention to be turned towards Deirdre. If Voldemort knew of his feelings for her, the Dark Lord wouldn’t hesitate to use her to tighten his control over him.
Deirdre smiled at him. –Great, I’ll see you later, then.â€
–I look forward to it,†he said.
Severus held her gaze a moment longer then walked towards the door. He silently prayed he would not be called to a Death Eater’s gathering that evening, as he needed to be with Deirdre. She was like a soothing balm, the only other person he felt wholly comfortable with.
–Oh, and Severus,†she called as he turned the door handle. –Put a few more layers on, and a scarf! I know you love that cloak, but it’s hardly winter friendly.â€
Severus frowned at her, but his lips twitched in amusement as he stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.