Severus Snape hates his life. (imbittered) wrote in the100, @ 2015-09-03 23:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, severus snape |
Who: Severus Snape
When: September 2, after his arrival and subsequent introduction to the network.
Where: His room in the mountain.
What: A lot of feels competing with numbness.
Rating: Low-ish.
Status: COMPLETE.
Severus Snape placed the communication device - whatever they had called it - down on the bedside table grateful that there at least did not seem to be anyone else in the room with him despite the space for there to be so. His hands were trembling and he folded them against each other as he sat down. There was no guidebook for what to do when you were brought face-to-face - in a manner of speaking at any rate - with a ghost. Severus was used to situations with no guidebook. You did not spy on the Dark Lord and on Death Eaters at the request of Albus Dumbledore without finding yourself in those situations. You were not a teacher for as many years as he had been without finding yourself in those sorts of situations as well. But this was different. This left his hands shaky, and a tight feeling around his heart. In the morning when he woke and looked back at the words he had wrote would he hate them? Or could he stand by them as the best he could have done? But his best in this regard had never been good enough and in his most honest moments he was well aware of every failing he might have made even those he could see no way around. For all he might tell others to own their lives and for all he might even tell himself to own his life it was far more difficult to do so in the living of it. It was too early to think of this as any sort of second chance. It was too early to really think anything of any of it. Having stepped into a world where it seemed the Muggle and Magical lived together in one post-apocalyptic world. Where everyone he remembered from his childhood was eerily frozen in time, and everyone he remembered from his adulthood seemed to have caught up with him there, trying to come to some conclusion within that reality of what this meant or what it could mean was too much. A few hours before he had been preparing to return himself to the Dark Lord. To do whatever it would take to insure that Albus Dumbledore had the information he needed to keep ahead of the Dark Lord and for Severus to keep his vow to keep the damnable Potter boy alive. And despite the very real danger, Severus had been willing to do that, knowing that he had kept his own allegiances clear and free, but he could only suspect he would be damned for those choices sooner if not later whether it be deserved or not, or understood or not. He rubbed his hands over his temples briefly to massage the headache away. It did not seem that he had completely messed up the entire exchange. Potter seemed to have lived to be older, significantly older, which meant he must also have succeeded in keeping the boy alive. Apparently also in being the Headmaster of Hogwarts… a piece of news that did not particularly give him much joy, despite the potential prestige in such a position. But Albus had never spoke of retiring, which likely meant that the situations surrounding Severus' attainment of the position were less than ideal. But Potter had apparently named a child after him… and the old headmaster. Severus had no idea what to think about that one. Tomorrow he would do what he did. He would ask questions, he would listen, he would put all of this together into what would hopefully become a much clearer picture. Perhaps he would see Lily in person. If he were dead he had to admit that it was closer to heaven than hell - even with all of the other pieces of the whole. Lily was here, and she had spoke with him, and perhaps there was the opportunity to reconcile - even just a bit. It could be no stranger a situation than having been dropped from the sky in a strange pod with no memory of how he got there. It might even be more normal than that - conversations with childhood friends should be the most normal thing in the world. |