A/N: Yes, Ming and I are doing this fanfic. My first time for Harry Potter, but I have an expert to help. Yes, my job is to do the angst sections of this fic, and at times I can go over my head and be too morbid and angsty for my own good. But we'll see how this turns out.
Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter, so fuck off and let me write.
Note from Ming: Uhh… okay, sure. Mors Laminil now owns Harry Potter. I never would have guessed. She bought it from JKR at an auction… all rights reserved…
Severus Snape was welcomed into Hogwarts without a moment's hesitation. Although Dumbledore was somewhat disturbed of the former death-eater's choice of attire… it was not like the Severus he once knew.
Nevertheless, Hogwarts was going downhill, and he might be one step in the right direction, seeing as it was his leave that caused some disruption in the school's board of trustees and result of the school's current state.
After the paperwork was confirmed, Snape was introduced into his familiar office, slightly disarranged from previous teacher. He only smiled cheerfully and said, "Well this needs some work, but I'm sure it'll look just like old times with a few touches here and there."
He immediately set to work, reorganizing the desks to his liking and setting the many bottles and vials, filled with potions of all sorts, to the appropriate position.
But the room was not the same as before. Added trinkets and unexpected items of emotion littered his room, and on his desk five ink bottles were lined up in a row, each containing a different color. No, the room was not the same and neither was Severus.
There was a note from Mrs. Wolf on the desk, explaining what the class had been through and what they had learned. He merrily read it over and then tossed it in the waste bin with shallow giggle.
Snape was back, but what had become of Snape?
That night, when all had been prepared for tomorrow's day of Potions, Snape retired to his room. He began to unpack, moving the numerous bright colored robes into his wardrobe and positioning his possessions.
When he was done, he stood back and admired the room. Smiling, he checked his bag if there was anything he had missed. His hand reached into the bad and encountered something hard, like metal.
Grasping the item, he pulled it into view. It was a picture in a golden picture frame. His joyful expression melted from his face, growing darker.
The whisper sounded in his ears. He twirled around and stared at nothing, his eyes quivering in fear. Then a look of recognition crossed his face, but fear again replaced it.
"No," he said softly, though he felt like screaming. "No, I don't remember."
"Yes," he whispered in fear. "Yes, I have forgotten."
Torture … Burning … Hanging … Which death? …
His brow furrowed as he knelt on the ground, holding his head on his hands. His voice was quiet, as if peace was the only way to solve the questions. "I don't know."
The command roared in his ears, and he screamed in pain, clutching his ears.
But he couldn't remember what happened next. His mind was suddenly wrenched from his body as he found himself wandering in another place, another time…
There stood a woman clad in tight black leather pants and a black sleeveless shirt, fitting to her figure. Her arms were bare, and a tattoo was clearly visible on her tan skin. She was a death-eater.
Her short black hair moved slightly as she turned to face him, her bright blue eyes piercing and clear.
"You okay, Snape?" she said playfully, waving a hand in front of his face.
He looked around. They were in something that resembled a lab with vials of potions everywhere.
Where am I, he thought.
"Snape?" she said again, snapping her fingers.
"Yes?" he said, moving his mouth without command.
"You were dozing off there," she said with a happy voice. "Come on, we have work to do."
He nodded and looked down to what he was working on. On the table was a long parchment of intricate designs and mixtures.
Looking at the working lady, he had every desire to ask her what the hell he was doing her, but for some strange reason his mouth wouldn't open.
He would have started to ask her through actions instead of words, when there was a knock. Looking around, Snape located the door to his left. It opened, and in walked a tall man in black robes.
"Come," said the man with a superior air.
The girl looked up and said, "For whom does he call?"
"You, woman, you will come."
A drained look of fear entered her eyes, and setting down her work, she walked away. But before the door closed, she looked back at Snape and smiled.
Hope shined fiercely in her eyes, and he smiled back.
Slowly the picture faded, and Snape opened his eyes to a small group of unfamiliar faces looking at him. The only one recognizable was Dumbledore's who now asked him what was wrong.
Snape only sat there in silence, reviewing what had happened. Then one word entered his mind.
And though he meant to say much more in reply to the old man's question, he could only say that word.
*sighs* I'm afraid that's not the best I've written, but it'll get better over time. It takes a while for the plot to setup and make an introduction. Hopefully, Ming can make something out of this. Until then,