Snapedom

Original poster: bohemianspirit

Yes, I know it's January, not December. ;-) I was out of town, but still wanted to contribute a few thoughts to the subject of the December challenge. There's so much more I could write about this, and so much everyone else has already written; I will settle for posting a couple of excerpts from my story "Light Between the Cracks," which was posted in October for snape_after_dh.

1. Did Severus spend his entire life pining after Lily?

Based on the character we see depicted over the entire series, not just on what we see in the memories in Deathly Hallows, I think it unlikely that Severus Snape spent his entire life crippled by grief. I think that his sense of guilt and grief over Lily's death acted as a catalyst, a wake-up call that pulled him off the destructive path he was on and set him on a new direction that ultimately enabled him to grow and mature. While his grief over her death would continue to haunt him, I don't think it utterly debilitated him. But I also think that he would not necessarily have revealed to Dumbledore, let alone to anyone else, whatever life he may have built for himself outside of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World.

Here's one way I envision him "processing" his grief and moving on with his life:



Anything, he had said.

It had been a vow of shortsighted youth: the sacrifice of his life for the love of Lily. In exchange for her safekeeping--and, not long thereafter, in atonement for failing to avert her death--he had placed himself forever at Dumbledore's disposal.

His life for Lily's. Dumbledore had expected nothing less, and, consumed by guilt and grief, Severus had accepted his sentence without question. For what else did he have to live? Lily had been his one love, even if she had not returned his love, and it was because of his own folly that she was now forever beyond his reach. Remorse would be his constant companion until his dying day. Lily was gone; he would live to protect her son.


He would always love Lily. Always.

But as he drew nearer to thirty than to twenty, Severus realized that he had ceased to think himself capable of loving only Lily. It began to strike him as absurd that in the name of love he should live a life without love. And then it occurred to him that remorse was supposed to lead to absolution, and absolution to release from the sins of the past.

He began to wonder if a future might, after all, be possible.

Of course, as soon as he began to think of moving forward, his promise--and his predicament--restrained him from acting upon those thoughts. There could be no love in a life like his. The word of Albus Dumbledore was all that had stood between him and Azkaban; the protection of Albus Dumbledore all that had stood between him and the vengeance of former Death Eaters who had neither forgiven nor forgotten his defection from their ranks. And should the Dark Lord rise again, as Albus Dumbledore predicted that he would--

No. Severus had forfeited his future when he chose to follow a fool's path at seventeen. He had turned from that path, but he never would be free. To subject a wife and children to the dangers of association with him would be unthinkable.

But his heart had been opened; and no heart, least of all his, had ever been daunted by the limits of the thinkable.


In my story, he goes on to meet and marry a non-wizarding woman and build a life for himself off the radar screen of Hogwarts. Details are my own, but I'd like to believe that some version of this really did happen. It certainly would be very Severus to keep his life as private as possible!

2. Putting the guilt issues over Snape's Worst Memory into perspective.

Really, the story says it all, so I'll just let the story take over.


I never want to see him again.

As soon as the Potter boy had fled his office, Severus slammed the door shut, fell back against it, and let the tears flow unchecked until he felt safe that they were all spent. A water glass, half empty, was sitting on a shelf by his desk; he grabbed it and splashed its contents over his face, using the hem of one sleeve to wipe his face dry. Severus was still shaking as he repaired jar after jar, returning each one to its shelf. The books he'd flung, one by one, he returned, one by one, sliding them into place by hand. He was a proficient Occlumens, a master of his emotions; he could, and would, master this.

After clearing the chaos he'd created, Severus swept the floor, attacking the floor with harsh strokes, as if to drive any remaining debris out the door. Then he walked over to the Pensieve, drew out the memory, and put it back into his head only because he did not wish to leave it where it might again be seen.

When everything had been put together and set in order, he left the grounds to pay a call on his wife.

He took one look into her eyes and fell apart.


There was a girl... a long time ago... I was madly in love.

He was lying in bed, facing her but not looking at her.

I don't know if she ever knew... but I think he knew... the one she... the father of the boy I'm sworn to protect...

He told her everything that had happened that night, the entire, horrible, humiliating ordeal, twenty years gone but fresh as newly-cut wounds. He told her everything, including the things that the Potter boy--thank God--had not seen.

When he had finished speaking, Dora remained silent for a long, long time.

So this girl you loved, Jack; the one who called herself your friend--she never spoke to you again.

No.

Because of what you said. What you called her.

Mudblood. His throat constricted as he said it.

One time, one time you called her a name--

I used to say it all the time. The tears rushed in again. Not to her--but--my friends--my house--it was expected. And-- He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. I hated my father.

He pressed his eyes closed, wishing the tears would cease.

A Muggle. Like me, said Dora.

Not at all like you, Severus vehemently countered.

There followed a stillness that settled over him like a blanket.

Why was your prejudice unpardonable, Jack, and theirs pardonable?

He looked, for the first time since his arrival, into her eyes.

She stretched out her hand, touching his brow, smoothing away the strands of black that had fallen across his vision.