_smoke_ (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _smoke_) wrote,@ 2004-05-16 11:22:00 |
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Title: They Say Your Past Comes Back to Haunt You
Pairing: Snape/OFC
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: Snape makes a startling discovery about his past, and a painful decision about his future.
Notes: This story takes place a couple of years before Harry Potter enters Hogwarts, and while it stands alone, it also provides back-story for The Wizard’s Tale: A Continuation.
Potions Master Severus Snape sat at the High Table watching the new students being sorted. His razor-sharp mind memorized each name and face so that in class he never took role, never asked a name. The fact that he knew everyone by name their first class was just another way he intimidated the students. This lot looked particularly unprepossessing but then, he allowed himself the tiniest curl of the lip, they always did.
“Kat Carron!” Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out and Snape felt as if someone had thrown a glass of cold water in his face. He sat straighter and focused his laser stare on the boy approaching the sorting stool. The boy was thin and a bit tall for his age though he handled himself with an easy grace. Snape scowled. ’Probably lose that soon enough when he starts his growth spurt.’ The boy’s face was long and thin, his nose aquiline, his hair a shiny black that fell over his collar in thick soft waves. He sat on the stool and waited without fidgeting while the Sorting Hat considered his fate. “Ravenclaw!” The hat announced and Snape realized he had been holding his breath. He watched as the boy happily took his place at the Ravenclaw table.
For the rest of the sorting, Severus Snape could hardly pay attention to the new students. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the boy name Kat. The child was facing him at not too great a distance and he could observe him easily. The boy had a full sensuous mouth and almond shaped eyes rimmed with thick black lashes. At one point his gaze passed over Snape and for a moment their eyes locked. Snape stared. The eyes looking so calmly into his were a startling sapphire blue circled in black. For several long ticks of the clock they held each other’s gaze before, with unhurried ease, the boy looked away.
“He has his mother’s eyes, doesn’t he?” Professor Flitwick’s voice at Snape’s elbow made the younger wizard jump. “Wasn’t she in your class?”
Snape turned his attention to the wizard on his left. “I believe so.” His voice was noncommittal.
“Yes, I’m sure of it. Transferred in her seventh year from Canada. Her parents were Muggle professors at Oxford. Katherine. Beautiful girl; top student.”
Snape grunted and wished Flitwick would be quiet. The Sorting Ceremony was ending and Dumbledore stood to speak. Snape stared at the Headmaster as though listening intently but in truth, his thoughts were elsewhere.
As soon as the feast ended he headed for his rooms and locked himself in. Pouring a large whiskey, he stood looking out the window at the fading light. He was not seeing the yard or the forest beyond; his eyes were focused inward on the past of eleven years ago. On a quiet girl with long, wavy chestnut hair and the most amazing eyes he had ever seen. The bluest of blues rimmed with black and framed with the most ridiculously lush sable lashes any girl could ever wish for. She had come two months into his seventh year. Shy, studious, seriously smart she was in Ravenclaw House. For some reason, she had sought out skinny, sour young Severus Snape at the library and studied with him. Or near him at any rate as he wasn’t exactly welcoming. She didn’t seem to notice his hostility however and was unfailingly pleasant and friendly to him. Several of the boys had aggressively competed for her attention but while always polite, she didn’t seem much interested in them.
Severus was not blind nor was he without the normal hormonal surges of any seventeen year old male; he simply did not want to get involved with anyone. To date, his example of a love relationship had been his parents. His father had beaten his mother relentlessly – and Severus, too, if he got in the way. His mother had finally died from one of those beatings. Died in the boy’s arms urging her son to understand that his father was really a “good man.” While he hated his father with every fiber of his being, he loathed his mother for her weakness in staying in the relationship. His child’s mind, seeing everything in black and white, had put “relationship” in a category of things that were not to be part of his life.
More and more of his time, energy and considerable talent was being focused on the Dark Arts and on He Who Must Not Be Named. The siren call of knowledge, power and the chance to make a mark on the world intoxicated the youth who had suffered so much humiliation and degradation at the hands of his classmates and father. Sex had not the novelty to draw him. The previous summer, before his widowed father had died, he had taken Severus to live with him in a brothel. His father was lover to the madam and Severus was ignored while his parent spent his days in bed and his nights in the bar. The ladies (most of them girls not much older than Severus) had teased the awkward boy mercilessly until one of them had taken it upon herself to teach him the ways of the world. His aptitude and her tutoring proved such a stunning success that before long the other girls were willingly teaching him all that they knew in return for the pleasure of reaping the fruits of their lessons.
At school, Severus had initially started paying a bit of attention to Katherine simply to annoy the other boys, especially Sirius Black who seemed particularly enamored of her quiet beauty and gentle ways. Before long, he found himself seeking her out at the library purely for the pleasure of her company. She was not only smart but clever and he enjoyed their sometimes spirited debates over this or that fine point of one of their lessons. She was particularly adept at charms and once they were thrown out of the library for engaging in a spontaneous competition with their wands. He called her Kat and she said she allowed no one else to nickname her.
It had been early in January after a day in Hogsmeade that Severus had chanced upon her in the woods on the path to the school. It was a rare warm day of thaw. The woods dripped with melting snow and the air was fragrant with the rich smells of the earth. Katherine had stopped and was peering into the woods to the right of the path when Severus caught up with her.
“What’s that? There,” she pointed. “The yellow bit.”
Severus looked and saw the tiny spot of yellow that seemed to have caught her attention. He shrugged and shouldered his way into the underbrush. She followed and rounding a pile of rocks they came upon a large bush covered in tiny yellow flowers.
“What on earth?” Katherine sniffed the flowers, then scoring the bark with a fingernail, sniffed again. “Witch Hazel?” She turned. “Severus, come look. Isn’t this Witch Hazel?”
He came close to her side and smelled the green wood of the twig she held. “I didn’t think it grew here?”
“Neither did I.” Katherine looked around, studying the adjoining plants and trees. “Professor Sprout will want to hear of this!”
Laughing, she looked back at her friend. As her eyes locked on his the sights, sounds and smells of the forest receded from her world. Moving close, she laid her palms tentatively against his chest and reaching up she kissed him gently. His lips were warm but unresponsive. “Severus?” It was barely a whisper.
He looked down into her shining eyes and his resolve was lost.
His kiss started gently enough but soon was burning out of control. When they parted they were both flushed and more than a little breathless. He pulled his wand and cast a concealing charm in a circle around them while she cast a warming spell. With a flick of his wrist their clothes removed themselves to a heap at their feet. She gasped and clung to him, her eyes wide with surprise until, with a laugh and a wave of her wand, she transfigured the clothes into a nest of blankets.
He lowered her slowly to the blankets all the while kissing her face and neck, biting her gently along the column of her throat. Her hands ran lightly over his body, exploring, touching, testing. He lay beside her, his tongue searching out all the corners of her mouth, his hands seeking the curves and swells of her body. Taking his time, he kissed his way down her neck and between her breasts. She sighed and arched her back. Covering her breasts with his hands, he kneaded her gently, kissing his way down her belly. She trembled as he worked his way back up to her breast and cried out when his mouth closed over the sensitive nipple. He sucked and teased her and when her response seemed to call for it, bit down lightly. She wound her hands in his hair and pulled him closer. He became progressively rougher, judging the level of her desire as the ladies of the brothel had taught him. He was realizing she was someone who liked her sex a bit rough and he smiled against her skin. That suited his mood just fine. He ran his hand over her belly and down between her legs. She spread her thighs willingly for him and he chuckled. When he slid two fingers into her soaking center she bucked up against his hand and cried out for him.
“Not yet, you wanton woman, not yet.” He murmured against the soft skin of her breast. He stroked his fingers in and out of her several times then slid them up over her clit. She gasped when he pinched and rolled the sensitive nub between his fingers. When he removed his hand she gave an inarticulate cry that he couldn’t be sure wasn’t at least part anger. He placed his fingers, soaked with her juices, against her lips.
“Suck.” Eagerly she drew them into her mouth circling them with her tongue and sucking fiercely.
“Easy, now,” he coaxed. “I see I’m going to have to give you lessons.”
“Yes, please, Severus. Teach me how to please you.” Her breathy plea almost undid him, but he concentrated and fought off the urge to mount her then and there.
“Oh, I will, Kat, I will.” He moved between her thighs and she wrapped her legs around his waist pulling him toward her.
“Not yet! Be patient, girl.” He chided gently as his loosened her legs and kissed his way down her belly to her patch of chestnut curls. He had never had a woman so eager for him and though it cost him a great deal of effort, he held off just to have the pleasure of tormenting her.
She was wet and welcoming and sweet. He ran his tongue up the outside of her lips before dipping it into her. She moaned and trembled but tried to hold still for him. He drank from her as from a glass of wine, savoring her taste and memorizing her scent. He stroked his tongue up her and circled and flicked at her clit until she was keening with desire. Drawing her clit into his mouth he bit her lightly and was rewarded with her screaming his name as she came. He thought very briefly that it was a good thing he had cast a silencing spell with the concealment charm.
When her orgasm, faded he started again and was pleased with how quickly she responded as he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off. When she was once more begging for him he slid slowly up her body and kissed her deeply. She accepted him eagerly, sucking her taste off his tongue. He positioned his hips carefully and drove into her with one hard thrust. She cried out into his mouth and wrapped her legs around him. Propping himself up on his hands he stroked in and out of her slowly, doing his best to stave off his release. She cried his name and tightened herself around his cock and he gave up. Driving into her as hard and fast as he could, pounding her relentlessly, he knew he wouldn’t last long. He didn’t care; he knew there would be more.
And there was – every time, every where they could. He taught her to pleasure him with her mouth and she proved a willing and apt student. The months to the end of term flew by but not once did either mention the time when they would separate. It seemed incomprehensible that they would.
But separate they did, with promises of owls and frequent visits. To his very great surprise he had missed her more than he had thought possible. He was fond of her and missed the sex more than a little, but he had not expected to miss her company. The lure of the Dark Arts, however, was a call too strong to be ignored. That she would not approve he had no doubt whatsoever but the opportunity to be a part of something that was looked upon with awe and fear was too much for the unhappy young wizard to resist.
One week out of school, just after his 18th birthday, Severus Snape took the Dark Mark. Four days later, he sought out Katherine. That she would be upset, he expected. The extent of her distress unsettled him. At first, he simply said he was going to take the Mark rather than present it as an already done deed. She reacted with a terror and ferocity he had never imagined. She cried and begged; on her knees she begged him not to do it. She told incoherent tails of horror, torture and death. She offered him anything if only he wouldn't give himself to the Dark Lord.
Taken aback by the depth of her anguish he pushed her away. When he showed her the Mark she went silent, covering her face in horror and revulsion. Taking her feelings as meant for him rather than Mark, he spurned her, chastising her for abandoning their friendship and leaving her crumpled and crying on the floor.
He had never seen her again. Feeling that his one friend had betrayed him, he banished all thought of her from his mind.
It hadn't taken the young wizard long to realize the enormity of his mistake but it did take him more than a year to understand he had to get out whatever the cost. Not knowing any other way he went to Dumbledore. The warmth with which he was welcomed surprised him, to say the least. Expecting to have to crawl and grovel at the old wizard's feet, he was taken completely off guard by the acceptance shown him. He was drawn into the school, sheltered and fiercely protected not only by Dumbledore but by the entire senior staff. Not knowing how to respond to the acceptance when he had expected scorn, he retreated to his dungeon rooms to lick his wounds.
For the first time he allowed himself to wonder what had become of her. He had never thought of their feelings for each other as love. He had cared for her as a friend and enjoyed the sex but being incapable, at the time, of any deeper feelings himself, he had simply assumed she felt as he did. The extent of her grieving when he had taken the Dark Mark had confused and frightened him as a teenager. As an adult, he wondered how he could have been so blind to her true feelings. Clearly, she had sought comfort from another as the boy who was so obviously her son must have been conceived that first summer out of school. That she had not married, at the time, was also clear given the boy's last name. Had one of their former classmates taken advantage of her despair in order to get close to her? He clenched his fists in his pockets. Sirius Black! It would be just like the bastard to seduce and abandon her. The child's sensuous mouth and raven hair could easily be Black's legacy.
What was she doing now? Was she married? Did she remember him with anything but revulsion? Did she remember him at all? Contacting her was out of the question as he did not particularly care to have someone spit in his face, which would be, he felt, the inevitable result. But he was curious. She had been his first real friend and Severus Snape, clever and up-and-coming young wizard, had been too blind to see it and too stupid to appreciate what it meant.
He sighed. There had to be a better way.
If he could find a way to question the boy without seeming to... Snape decided the way to do that was to give the boy detention. The weeks went by and he became increasingly frustrated as it became obvious that the boy was going to give him no reason to discipline him. Quiet, respectful but not subservient, the boy was nothing less than a brilliant student. He had a thirst for knowledge and a drive that always produced his best. The other teachers all loved him as he was that rare thing - a child who was a joy to teach.
Desperate for the opportunity to question the boy, Snape did something he had never done before. He sabotaged the boy's work. Stalking through the room checking on the students’ potions, he leaned over the boy’s cauldron and, under the guise of wafting the fumes to his nose, dropped a small amount of shredded owl feather into the mix. The result was a slow frothing of the liquid. He stepped back as the foam built and overflowed onto the desk. The boy's eyes were huge and he watched the creeping yellow foam in shocked stillness. With a wave of his wand, Snape cleared the mess.
"What have you done, you idiot boy?"
Kat swallowed and looked up at the grim face of the teacher towering over him. "N..nothing, Sir. I mean," he looked confused but resolute. "It shouldn't have done that."
"Clearly, you added the ingredients in the wrong order."
The boy never looked away from Snape's scowl. "No, Sir."
Snape's eyes widened a bit in surprise. The boy had backbone but he was also making it easy.
"Detention, Carron. For your insolence. Thursday at seven" He whisked around and stalked away.
The boy had been prompt for his detention, looking wary but not frightened as he entered the classroom. Snape set him to remaking the failed potion having the boy sit at the table right in front of his desk. The potion was reaching the point where Snape had sabotaged it and the boy hesitated.
"Sir?"
"Yes?" Snape didn't look up from the papers he was marking.
The boy adding dried fern and stirred the mix.
"I don't understand, Sir. This is exactly what I did before. It's right. Why did it go wrong?"
Damn the boy for his confidence! Snape laid the quill down and looked into the earnest eyes that were those of his former lover. He couldn't bring himself to crush him out of hand.
"You're sure?" He gave him his fiercest look.
"Yes, Sir."
Snape hesitated. "Perhaps one of the ingredients was contaminated?"
The boy thought for a moment then looked relieved. "That could be. I've been thinking about the reaction and the only thing I can think of that would cause that to happen would be to add the owl feathers out of turn."
Snape nodded. The boy was clever and had clearly given this a lot of thought.
"I know I didn't do that, but if there were particles of the feathers on the cutting block," his brow furrowed in thought, "or maybe a bit had stuck to the cuff of my robe, it could have gotten in at the wrong time."
Snape nodded again, impressed in spite of himself. "That could have happened. You're sure it wasn't carelessness?"
The boy flushed. "Quite sure, Sir."
Snape studied the boy for a moment. "Your mother was a Ravenclaw as well, wasn't she?"
The boy beamed. "That's right. She came here her seventh year, from Canada."
"And your father?"
The boy looked down. "I don't know, Sir." He saw the child’s fist clench on the table top. "He was murdered before I was born."
"Murdered?"
"Yes, Sir. He Who Must Not Be Named took him." The boy swallowed. "Mum said he never even knew about me."
Snape barely breathed. "His name?"
"I don't know, Sir." Kat looked up at him with eyes that were unnaturally bright. "Mum says she'll tell me when I'm eighteen."
Snape forced his eyes back to the papers in front of him. The lad accepted the dismissal and returned to the preparation of his potion.
Snape was puzzled. Black had betrayed the Potters to The Dark Lord but that would have been well after the boy was born. And he was in Azkaban Prison, not dead, although from what Snape knew of the prison, he may as well be. Who then? The boy must have been conceived about the time he and Kat had last seen each other. He couldn't be the boy’s father; he was still alive, after all. Besides, they had always been so careful. Between them, they knew half a dozen different ways to prevent pregnancy and they had always used at least two of them. There had to have been someone else.
His thoughts turned to the last time they had sex together. You couldn't call it "making love" as they were rutting like animals in the corridor of the school. He couldn't help a small smile.
They had been in the library and had left at the last moment. Running through the dim halls hand in hand they sprinted to make it to their dorms before curfew. Laughing quietly they arrived at the hall where their paths split. Snape pulled her into his embrace and kissed her passionately. She wound her arms around his neck and leaned into him willingly. When the kiss ended he didn't release her. Looking around, he pulled her into an alcove behind a statue and kissed her again, his hands wandering over her back and buttocks.
"Severus!" She was giggling against his chest. "We'll be late."
"I don't care." He pushed her back against he wall grinding his hips against hers, pressing his erection against her belly.
"Well in that case..." She pulled her wand and cast a concealing charm over the alcove. He countered by waving away their clothes. She gasped. "Severus!"
"What's the matter? No faith in your charm?" He ducked his head to her neck and bit her gently.
"Oh, yes!" She dropped her wand at their feet.
Snape, loath to ever be parted from his wand shoved it between his teeth, then grabbed her just below her buttocks, hiked her up against the wall and buried his cock deep inside her. She moaned against him then threw her head back and rode his hard thrusts with abandon.
When she gasped and stilled he froze, afraid he'd somehow hurt her. When he saw her looking down the hall he turned his head but couldn't see much; only the flickering light of an approaching lantern just around the corner. They stayed still as two rabbits under a bush and Snape prayed her charm was good.
"It's Filch!" She hissed in his ear.
He listened to the slow steps coming ever closer. Kat's eyes were enormous in the low light as she put her mouth next to his ear.
"Don't even breathe."
The caretaker's steps passed them without hesitation and Snape was surprised to note that instead of shrinking, his erection seemed to be growing. Apparently, Kat could feel it as well and whether it was nerves or willfulness, she gripped Snape's cock hard with her internal muscles. Before he could stop it a small grunt escaped him. Filch froze and Snape heard him turn.
"Who's there?" His voice echoed in the almost empty hallway. Snape and Kat didn't breathe.
Slowly, Filch turned and studied the hall. Finally satisfied, he went on his way.
"You witch!" It came out muffled by the wand in his teeth. "Play with me, will you?" Bracing himself he drove into her, fucking her mercilessly hard against the cold stones of the school walls.
She cried his name softly and dug her nails into his back. She loved to be taken hard and fast and while they also enjoyed leisurely loving, circumstances dictated that most of their sex was of the rushed, feral verity.
Her teeth closed sharply on his shoulder as she came and the pain sent him over the edge. Struggling not to cry out he bit down hard on his wand.
Afterward, he charmed their clothes back on and after a quick, rough kiss, they had sprinted for their respective dorms.
Snape's hand slipped into his pocket and he fingered the teeth marks that still scored the shaft of his wand. Surely, in the stress of the moment, they hadn't forgotten to guard her against pregnancy. They couldn't have... could they?
"I'm done, Sir." The boy's quiet voice interrupted his fevered thinking and brought him back to the classroom with an abruptness that was physically painful.
He checked the boy's work, though he didn't really need to. He had been watching carefully and since the child hadn't made a mistake the first time, chances were he hadn't this time either.
"You seem to have gotten it right this time, Carron." The boy smiled with pleasure, prompting Snape to make a rare concession. "The mistake in class was probably an accident. But," he added as the boy broke into a large grin. "It shows that you need to be very careful of the smallest details."
"Yes, Sir." The boy was positively beaming. Snape scowled.
"You may clean up and go."
"Thank you, Sir!" The boy had cleaned up and gone in record time though Snape hardly noticed.
Snape's night was spent pacing the floor and arguing with himself. Although he would adamantly state he was not the boy’s father, that annoying little voice at the back of his mind reminded him that it was possible.
’Well, so what?’ he argued with himself. ’At this point, what does it matter?’ Snape poured another glass of whiskey and slammed the decanter down with a force that threatened to shatter it. He hated men who took that stand about their unwanted children; men like Malfoy with his little bastards running around all over the countryside.
Snape dumped himself on the couch, took a large swallow of whiskey and tried to look at the situation logically. IF, and in his mind it was a very big if, the child was his, what then? Family life was not only out of the question, it was laughable - definitely not for him. He had a small amount of savings and would certainly contribute to the child’s care but other than that... He ran his hands through his hair. Dear Merlin, what were his responsibilities? He would not think of the child as his son. He simply couldn’t – at least not until he was forced to. IF he were forced to.
He closed his eyes and leaned back trying to clear his mind. When he did, a new line of thought popped up that made him break out in a cold sweat. There were rumors of the Dark Lord stirring. Snape had never believed him dead and now there were rumors to support that. There had been a lot of whispering among the Death Eaters about the possible return the Dark Lord to power. The child Harry Potter would be entering Hogwarts in two years. He was hidden now, but what would happen when he entered the wizarding world?
Snape had narrowly escaped Azkaban when the Dark Lord was defeated the first time. Dumbledore had vouched for him, testifying that he was a spy. The Dark Lord had let him go those years ago because Snape convinced him he could be of service as a spy at Hogwarts. Snape walked a very thin line between the two factions. Dumbledore was a good man who could be trusted but the Dark Lord, or the loyal Death Eaters – many of whom distrusted Snape – would probably love to have the leverage over Snape that a child of his could give them. IF the child were his and IF he acknowledged him, the boy might then be in grave danger. If not right away, then in the future.
IF, IF, IF! Snape gave up. Clearly, before any decisions or plans were made, the question of the boy’s parentage had to be settled.
The next day he was haggard and extremely bad-tempered. Within hours, the entire school was giving him a wide berth. He had come to the conclusion that he had to speak with Katherine. He could get her address easily enough from the school records and had determined to make contact by the end of the weekend. He only needed to decide whether to owl her or just show up at her residence. That and what he was to say to her.
Kat was not in class that day. This surprised Snape but he was so wound up in his own concerns that he didn't give it a lot of thought. It was after dinner and he was in his office when there was a knock on the door.
"Enter." He looked up as Dumbledore entered and closed the door quietly. "What is it Headmaster?" Snape tried not to sound rude.
"You noticed Kat Carron wasn't in class today." It was a statement to which Snape didn't bother responding.
Dumbledore sighed and looked tired. "You haven't been in the teacher's lounge today so you may not know. The boy's mother was knocked over by a truck and killed yesterday evening. The boy will be going to live with his grandparents in Canada." He watched the younger man closely.
Snape stared at Dumbledore without seeing him. His world emptied of sight and sound and he ceased to breathe.
"Severus?"
He jerked himself back to the present. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"I just wanted you to know." Dumbledore rose to his feet looking the old man that he was. At the door he hesitated and looked back over his half moon glasses. "Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Severus?"
Snape's eyes narrowed as his scowl lowered his brow. "No. There isn’t anything, Headmaster."
For hours Snape paced his room trying to decide the best course of action. He could find the child in Canada but to what point and purpose? If Kat hadn’t confided in her parents, there would be nothing to be learned and quite possibly damage to be done by drawing attention to the boy. And if he were the boy’s father, would he be expected to provide a home for him? Severus Snape, bad tempered bastard, greasy git, Death Eater and single parent. He didn’t think so.
In the small hours of the morning, Snape reached his decision. He wasn’t sure it was the right one or even a good one, but it was the one he chose. Exhausted, he took a dose of Dreamless Sleep potion and lay down.
First thing after breakfast, he sent an owl to a solicitor in London and by evening he had his answer. The birth record for Kat Carron had listed no father. He took his memories of his first friend and her child and put them in a small cupboard in the back of his mind. Firmly, he closed the door and locked it.
No thoughts of the blue-eyed woman or her boy were allowed to enter his mind again.
Note: Part 8 of The Wizard's Tale: A Continuation continues here.