MC-90
By Rune Scriptor
Disclaimer: Not mine. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, except the character of Tandell, who I created to suit my nefarious purposes.
Author's Note: this is a surreal piece; at times, it purposefully confuses. Don't be frustrated if not everything makes sense. If you have any questions, you know where to reach me *mischievous grin*
MC-90
What do you see?
A whisper like gossamer wings in the air-
Professor?
The rustle of cloth against the cold stone floor-
A hand, white and thin, clutching the golden frame-
The wounding shine of light against mirrored glass-
What do you see?
The reflection of a face, smooth and harsh with angles and years of suffering-
You can tell me, Professor. Please?
A deep sigh, a face hidden in shadow and bitterness-
What is it?
"Nothing."
***
"Go ahead, Tandell. You got the Pensieve going?"
"Yeah, boss. We're ready to roll."
"And the tape recorder?"
"Yes, but...umm...isn't it illegal to enchant Muggle-"
"Good. I want to nail this bastard on the record before we bring his jailors round for a little visit."
"If you don't mind my asking, sir...but what's the tape recorder for? We've already got the Pensieve."
"It's for me. For my own pleasure, to listen to the murdering traitor's last moments of sanity."
"Oh. Well..."
"Did you administer the potion?"
"Yes. Three minutes ago."
"Good. That'll loosen his slimy, lying tongue."
"We can only hope, sir."
"Has it taken effect yet?"
"It should be kicking in any second now. He's in the next room when you're ready for him."
"Excellent...I want to remember today. Every fucking thing."
"The...uh...everything's ready, sir."
"Let's go, then."
"Here, I'll get the door, sir."
"Thank you. Close it behind us. Good. Now, are we rolling?"
"Yes. Also, his vitals are beginning to register the effects of the potion."
"I can see that, Tandell."
"Of course, sir. Go when you're ready."
"Yes. Date: 14th of August, 2004. Time: 4:57 p.m. Subject: Severus Occasus Snape."
***
My name is Severus Snape.
Yes. Occasus.
My life is a hellhole of garbage and waste.
I have lived in fear for 33 years. I have been wasting oxygen for 45.
With the exception of Albus Dumbledore, no one would care if I were sent to rot in Azkaban or, to save time, thrown in a grave to push up weeds.
I don't even care.
I deserve it.
***
I have been involved with the Death Eaters since the age of twelve.
Since then, I have murdered ten people-seven men, two women, one child-and assisted in the tortures and deaths of seven others.
My first six victims I murdered on Voldemort's orders.
The last four were accidents, all of them necessary.
I have regretted each kill.
***
Voldemort has been dead for seven days, three hours, and...fifty-seven minutes.
I....
No, I can't remember...I...
I joined Voldemort...
I...because...it was hard...
On a Wednesday...
Wednesday's child is full of woe...Thursday's child has far to go...
I did it for...no, stop this. What did you give me? You. It's YOU...OUT. GET OUT!
NO
***
"Give him another dose."
"But we already gave him way over the-"
"NOW, Tandell."
"But....yes, sir."
***
Get away from me. You fucking bastard...get away. What the hell are you-
***
"Hold him down, Tandell!"
"I'm trying, sir!"
"Try harder, damn you!"
"Ow! He bit me!"
"Stop sniveling and hold him down. Okay, Snape, now open wide. Time to take your medicine..."
***
No, GET AWAY FROM ME. INCENDIO!
***
"Nice try, Snake. You don't have a wand, remember? Now, where were we...ah yes. Drink the potion. Now."
"There, I've got him pinned, sir!"
"Down the hatch, Snape."
"Sir...wait...stop. That's too much. Sir! No more than three drops! Sir, you're going to kill him!"
"He's a dead man anyway. Now, make sure the tape recorder is still working."
"...yes, sir..."
***
Mmnnf....
...oh God...my throat...my chest...it's burning...
aaah...that was too much...that was wrong...the dose was wrong...I am the Professor here...students...I know...that was wrong, Mr. Longbottom, wrong wrong... God, Potter, you're trying to kill me...no, Miss Granger, you may not help him...put your hand down...it was that...one time....Weasley...
...one time...
...a necessary mistake...
***
"Tell me what happened two months ago, Snape. I want to know exactly what you were thinking, you slimy bastard. Now, speak!"
***
...aaah...shit...shit...shit...
...I can't take...it...my name is...Severus...Severus...
...two...
...months...ago...
...it hurts...so...much...
God...
...two months...ago...Dumbledore had me...working...still working for him...
but this time...the risk...was even h-higher than before...shit, my skin is burning...you fool...
***
"Concentrate, Snape. What happened two months ago? What happened?"
***
Voldemort...he already knew I was a traitor...he was hunting for me...for seven years...
I accepted Dumbledore's last task because...
I wanted to make up for everything. And I wanted...to bring down the sorry...s-son-of-a-bitch who twisted me...the bastard...who made me hard and...and cold. Who showed me hate and how to use it...
How to murder everything, emotion...until all that's left is greed...and spite...and the void that shows in me, in my eyes.
The one who told me I could...have power and wealth...and then took it all away.
I wanted to see him suffer before he died...suffer so much...Like a pig...
On his hands and knees...
Begging.
So that...I could look...at him...and say...Now, it's your turn.
No mercy.
***
"Yeah, no mercy. That's right, you ugly bastard. NO MERCY. Not for any of them. I hope you burn in hell!!!"
***
I had this dream once...
It was...well, it was before everything h-happened.
Before two...months...ago.
I was in a room...at Hogwarts...someplace dark...cold...below the dungeons, if that's possible.
In the center of the room stood this mirror. I remember it-it looked like the one my father kept at home. The one I always...kept smashing into when he...
Well, it...was a gold mirror... It looked almost like a harp, exc-cept with a sheet of glass for strings....
I remember looking...into it...and thinking... 'God w-what an ugly git. No wonder they all laugh and...'
Well, anyway...I tried to break it.
I figured...seven years of bad luck-what's seven years when I've had 45? 45... fucking... consecutive years...
But it wouldn't break.
***
"What the fuck is he talking about? I didn't ask him about a mirror or a fucking dream! Profes--- Snape --- Tell me about the people you killed. How did they die? Tell me."
***
I heard someone talking to me. Some...young kid. I would know that voice anywhere.
Bloody perfect Quidditch bastard...with the 'look at me...I'm the bloody...golden boy,' flashing that holier-than-thou art smile.
What do you see?
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
***
"What the hell is he saying?"
"I-I don't know, sir."
"What kind of language is that?"
"I don't know."
"I thought people who ingested Veritaserum only answered the questions they were asked."
"You did almost give him the entire potion, sir. It was supposed to be only three drops."
"Well, I didn't know he'd start reminiscing about some mirror from his childhood, or some bloody wet dream he had, or what-fucking-not. Now I won't be able to get anything out of the slimy bastard! I have to know...God! I'm going to kill him myself if he doesn't start making sense!!! I have to know."
"Well...shall I call the uh...th-the...them in, then?"
"No, Tandell, you idiot! Shut the bloody door! Moron! And quit stuttering; it's getting to be annoying. You're almost as bad as he is."
"Sorry, s-sir."
"And quit calling me 'sir'-I'm not 'sir,' I'm no one, understand? I'm no one."
"Yes..."
"Now. Snape. Are you still a Death Eater? Do you still follow Voldemort? Did you hear me, you stupid git? Do you still follow Voldemort?"
"Oh dear God...sir, there's blood coming out of his mouth and his ears!"
"Do you think I'm blind?"
"But...but..."
"Oh shut up, would you?"
"He's dying, sir! You're killing him!"
"No, not 'killing' him. If he's going to die, then it's because of something I've already done. So the word should be 'killed.' I've *killed* him. Idiot. Go over to that side of the room. Let me interrogate this murderous traitor in peace. Thank you. Now. Profes--- Snape: Look at me. LOOK AT ME, damn you! Now answer the question. Are you still loyal to Lord Voldemort?"
***
I...but he's dead...
I...
The m-mirror...of Erised...it was golden, in my dream...It's golden...
God oh God...my skin...
...burns so much...
...my chest...my stomach...my throat...
Professor?
No, go away, Potter. Stop talking to me.
Professor?
Stop haunting me...
***
"Harry can't hear you now, thanks to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, you evil bastard. It's kind of hard to hear under six feet of dirt, don't you agree? Now, tell me before I rip your bloody head off! Tell me how they died!"
***
The last one...who I had to...who died...I couldn't stop it...he was...in the way...
Voldemort would have found out about us all...it was...it was three years ago...
He was in the way...
I had to...had to...
I know...that...he was innocent...
He was just a boy...I know...
But that didn't...matter...
I hate...that he smiled at me...before...he died...
He knew...he understood...
I hate him...for that...
***
"Sir? Sir?... Why are you crying?"
***
My dream...in it I remember...
The image started to change. In the mirror...
And I saw it.
It was...well, it was what I really wanted. I could never admit...it before...not even to myself.
And it scared the shit out of me.
Erised. Desire...
***
"Sir?"
"Just go."
"Sir, are you alright?"
"Just leave, Tandell. Leave me the fuck alone! I can't...I can't..."
***
What do you see?
My face. My open eyes. Death.
Me, lying on my desk in the dungeons...stone dead. Dead and, for once...fucking...happy.
No blood, no mess. Nobody hanging around to care or cry.
Poison on my lips...
I could almost t-taste it.
I would know how to make it so sweet...just like drinking soft caramel. I would know to mix it on high...first...then to bring it slowly down...letting it simmer and finish on low heat.
It is a subtle science...an art...
And they never understood... none of them ever tried... I got so tired of them... tarnishing the craft...
***
"You bleeding bastard. We tried. We tried. So fucking hard. You didn't care. You wanted to punish us anyway. So we joked and laughed, and tried to make things a little better. You were the one who never understood. You."
***
Soft caramel...
I would know to pour it into a small glass that is immune...to the effects of chemicals and temperature.
I would know...that even a drop would be deadly.
I would know to drink it all...to lick all traces from the glass. Just to be sure. Just to be dead.
I would know that I would be dead within ten seconds. That I would have...ten seconds...to think my last thoughts, to feel the sensation of poison moving through my veins, attacking every major organ in my body...slowly like what I would imagine a kiss is like.
I would know...for once...the first time...the one time...
So badly...
You can tell me, Professor. Please?
No...no...what do you know? You, the boy...you who always wanted to live...
Who didn't...in the end...who didn't...
We all get...in the end...what we least want...
Life is funny...like that...
***
"Funny? FUNNY? You heartless, friendless, sniveling, God-awful-ugly bastard! You killed him!!! My br.... They're all dead because of you!"
***
No...no...nonono...
I tried to save them...the last four...I tried...
But it was necessary...
***
"Necessary? They were innocent! He was innocent!"
"Sir, please...calm down."
"I will not calm down, Tandell! This ugly git killed me!!! He killed me!"
"What? Sir, please..."
"No, you don't understand. Get out of the room. Leave me alone."
"I'm going to get a healer."
"What for?"
"He's bleeding..."
"So what?"
"So he needs help. He's dying."
"So. What."
"Sir!"
"Tandell, this- this- snake deserves only justice. Just think what he did to all those innocents."
"But-"
"You heard him say yourself that he murdered...murdered...a child."
"But-"
"I won't regret it, Tandell. I won't. I'll do it if I have to. I'll kill you. After all these years of watching Snape, of hunting Death Eaters, I've learned from them. I know their arts. Don't make me do this. I don't care if I wind up in Azkaban."
"S-sir, I'm s-sorry. But- but what you're doing here is wrong. I'm sorry, but I can't stand and watch this anymore. I'm leav-"
"AVADA KEDAVRA."
***
So cold...one of the signs...you know...
I was a professor...I am...I knew the signs...I know them...
Just as I know that green...that light...
You can...I can teach you...to stopper...death...
I was...one...of the best...you know...the best...
And I didn't...
...didn't...
...want to be forgotten...
***
"Goodbye, Tandell."
***
God, Albus...
What happened?
Who is this boy? I know his face...
Albus...
I trusted you...you asked me to renew...my connections...with other Death Eaters...to ask them...
...to find out...about Voldemort...to spy...indirectly...
How could I have known...how could I...
You asked me...for my life...and...
...and...you...didn't know it...
But I...I gave it...all the same...
Albus...
He looks just like him...
***
"That's right, Snape. I do. Do you remember? No more games, Snape. They ended three years ago when you killed my brother. He didn't have to die, Snape."
***
Who... are you...
***
"Look at me. That's right. Look at me. You. Fucking. Murderer."
***
........
........
....Mr....Weasley.....
***
"Yes, Snape. Professor. Do you fucking remember now? I won't call the Dementors in until you know exactly what is going to happen to you, and who I am."
***
Yes...
Yes, I remember...
Fred...
***
"Fuck you, Snape. Don't even...don't even say his name. You bastard. You filth. You don't deserve to have even known him."
***
I have never...seen...you cry...George...
You and your brother...
You were always laughing...
***
"Stop it! Fucking STOP IT!!!"
***
You must understand.
I did kill him...
...your brother.
But it was necessary...
I regret it, but it...had to...be done...
I am sorry.
***
"Not as sorry as you're going to be, Snape. Dementors: CAPIO!...Let them take us both."
***
What do you see?
A whisper like griffin wings in the air-
Professor?
The rustle of cloth against the cold stone floor-
Two hands, white and thin, clawing at the ground-
Two hands, trembling with sick excitement, gripping the armrests of a chair-
The wounding shine of darkness against air-
What do you see?
Hooded, darkened faces, lifting hands with rotten fingers, reaching from the grave-
A man, weak and dying, stretched out on the floor-
A man, young and full of age and grief, sitting in a chair-
You can tell me, Professor. Please?
A deep sigh, a face hidden in shadow and bitterness-
A single, bitter laugh, the first and last in three years-
What is it?
Sighs, laughter, and death... Death sealed with a kiss-
"Nothing."