teddy_radiator | The Rise and Fall of Severus Snape

Way back, justpinkpastel asked for a short, dark!Snape story. This was what she got. It's told in short chapters, and at this point, I know the story, but it's not completely written out, so I can't promise how long or short it will be. I am not gonna lie - it's gonna have some angst, it's gonnna have some smut, and some character death, and implied character death. It's not a cure for cancer, it's not meant to show any great character insight. It's just does what it says on the tin. Karen, I hope it at least does it for you.

Title: The Rise and Fall of Severus Snape
Category: Drama, Romance, Tragedy
A/N: I own none of these characters, but if I did, I wouldn't have to write the first sentence of this AU fic. Un-beta'd, so don't fuss at Jules for what I've done!

One

Severus Snape knew he was dying. It was fascinating, really. He could actually feel his heart slowing. There were hot spots as well as cold ones on his body, but there was no rhyme or reason to the pattern that he could discern with whatever cognitive abilities he continued to possess. He lay on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, bleeding his life out onto the filthy wood, abandoned and forsaken by everyone, including his only love.

The Dark Lord had used the Elder wand as the excuse, but in reality, Severus was a liability to him. Now that the end game was nigh, Voldemort could no longer take the chance the slippery Slytherin was actually on his side. Severus wanted to believe he was on the right side; why did admitting that seem rather self-serving at such a time as death?

He had given Lily’s son his memories, and he fervently hoped they had been enough. If not, it was too late to do anything about it. Any power he had ever possessed to manipulate even the smallest outcome of the war was long gone.

He mourned himself. He wanted to live. He wanted to touch a woman one more time; he wanted the taste of firewhiskey to sting his tongue and warm his belly. He wanted to laugh, and do the things he had denied himself during his forced indentured servitude with Dumbledore and Riddle, and now he would do nothing but die.

Granger. She was a woman. With the hypersensitivity of the dying, he had been aware of her; had seen her thrust a vial into Potter’s shaking hand to capture his memories. She had been shivering, although it wasn’t cold, and she’d knelt down on the other side of Potter as Severus beckoned the boy to give him a final glimpse of Lily’s eyes. It was her eyes he wanted, but he wanted Granger’s scent: sweat and something spicy and dark on her breath and rank and irresistible between her legs, like menstrual blood and the scent of lemons… Polyjuice residual…

They left him as he lapsed into a blood-loss coma, and he was gone. The pain was horrific, but it was fading. The itching burn of the Dark Mark no longer nagged him, as it had every day since the Dark Lord’s return. That was a bonus, at least.

The three of them; like Fluffy, the three-headed dog, he thought. That damn dog had given him a nasty scar on his leg; Potter, Granger and Weasley were to blame. Always together, always plotting against him, cute and fluffy and dangerous, like that fucking three-headed dog. They had given him a nasty scar…

If he had possessed the energy, he would have laughed. But he had only enough energy left to die…

-o0o-

“Professor, open your eyes. Open your eyes now.” The voice was harsh and strained, and sounded as if the owner of it was used to being obeyed.

Severus reluctantly blinked, wincing at a blinding light that shuddered and stuttered close to his face. “Too bright,” he’d slurred.

He vaguely heard someone whisper, “Move your wand a bit, mate. It's hurting his eyes.” He knew that voice. Apparently it was also a voice to be obeyed, as the light quickly became less direct, more tolerable. Severus reluctantly opened his eyes.

Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley were crouched down beside him, cleansing his wound, frantically working over him like ants over a carcass. “Ah, fuck, there’s so much blood,” Granger growled, then Severus felt a jolt, as if a shot of Muggle electricity had been zapped under his skin. He cried out, and his left arm convulsed.

“That’s the signal,” Hermione said, and she sounded grimly happy. “Professor, Lord Voldemort is dead now. You are coming with us.” She finished whatever ministrations she was performing on his person, then sat back on her heels.

Severus looked up into the eyes of the witch who had only just left him, by his reckoning, about thirty seconds previous. She looked at least three years older now. His head cleared immediately. It was astouding. It was as if he’d never been injured. He pushed himself into a sitting position, and looked at the two Gryffindors carefully.

Nothing about what he was seeing made sense. “How long – “ he cleared his throat, and swallowed. “How long have I been here?” The girl pushed herself to her feet and walked behind him, out of his range of vision.

Weasley was the one who answered him. “You were attacked a little over ten minutes ago, sir. Hermione and I,” he said, glancing behind Severus to where she presumably stood, “well, we’ve been gone almost two and a half years.” He kept his eyes fixed on that point, and his expression sobered. “Do what you have to do, Hermione. We need to be gone soon. All that slingshot stuff back and forth is doing my head in.”

Hermione returned to stand in front of Severus, efficient and officious. “Can you stand, Professor?” she said, and there was something in her manner that told him she was not prepared to take no for an answer. In the words of his long-dead father, it got his dander up.

He looked at the girl carefully. “I can, but I will not unless someone tells me what has happened.”

Weasley looked at his watch. “I’ll be happy to fill you in, Professor, but in an hour or so the Aurors will be coming to take your body away. We don’t want to be here when that happens, do we?”

“My body?” Severus shook his head. He must still be hallucinating. “I don’t –“

Granger had apparently had enough. She roughly pulled him to his feet. “We will discuss this later, Professor!” The urgency in her voice galvanized him into moving. She placed a none-too-friendly hand on his arm and propelled him a few feet away from where he'd lain. He looked down in digust at the huge blood stain on the floor. Granger followed his eyes, and sighed. “Wait here.”

As Severus stood, waiting to be given an explanation, he was suddently overcome by the sheer surreal quality of the situation. He cast a bewildered eye over the room. By rights, he should be dead. Why wasn’t he? Why did he feel perfectly fine - in fact, better than he’d felt in months?

He opened his mouth to ask, when Hermione unceremoniously pushed him out of the way. “Ron, please take Professor Snape to the other side of the room.”

“Sure thing.” Ron looked at his former professor apologetically. “Please come with me, sir. You really want don’t want to see this.”

Alarmed, Severus said, “See what?” Anger sparked replacing his trepidation. “What in Merlin’s name is happening here? Why have you come from the future –“

A soft, masculine voice spoke from behind him. “Is that where I’m to go?”

Severus spun around in time to see a figure emerge from the shadows. The breath left his body in a huff, and he sagged against Weasley for a moment.

Standing there, covered in blood, his neck mangled, and a look of uncertain, almost child-like fear on his face, stood Severus Snape.

Current Mood: depressed
Current Location: Writing Nook

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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reg-flint.livejournal.com

I think it's a great start. Personally I hate time-turner fics as the implications are so wide and unpredictable. Good for telling a story but not working with reality. I liked the descriptions particularly of voices. I do HATE: almost child-like fear on his face... it's a personal objection from my!Severus' POV. I will keep reading, because you write well.

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Everything I Know, I Learned From Dahlra - Thingish Thoughts From A Bear of Very Little Brain

The Rise and Fall of Severus Snape

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