Private: Snape's ruminations
Date: 10 September 1999
Status: Private
Summary: Severus contemplates his life and his future.
Completion: Complete
Severus leaned against the stone balustrade and gazed out across the lake; the wind was brisk that day, making the surface of the water choppy, and Severus' robes whipped around his lean body as he stood there, lost in thought. He'd been doing a lot of thinking lately; soul-searching was not an activity that Severus particularly cared to indulge in, not considering the state of his soul, but all the recent upheavals and their aftermath had given him a great deal to think about.
Straightening, he pushed up his left sleeve and gazed down at his forearm; he'd been doing a lot of that lately, too, and it still surprised him to see nothing there, not even the vaguest shadow of the Mark he had borne for twenty years. He had taken it shortly after leaving Hogwarts. Within three years, he had regretted the decision, but unlike That Idiot Black the Younger, Severus had successfully got out by staying in, using the Occlumency skills Albus had taught him to cozen the Dark Lord and stay alive until the war was over -- both times.
After the first war, he had known his job wasn't yet finished. This time, however, it was well and truly over, and for the first time since he was a teenager, Severus was free. Totally and completely free.
That he had no idea what to do with his new-found freedom was something he barely wanted to admit to himself, much less to anyone else, but it was true nonetheless. For two decades, he had been tethered by his ties to Albus and to the Dark Lord, shrouded in the anger, bitterness, and fear that ruled his life; he had lived an ascetic life, trapped in a job he hated out of necessity, not daring to let his control slip lest it cost lives, including his own.
Relationships had been risky; if the Dark Lord had discovered the truth, Severus had no doubt that he would have used anyone whom Severus had cared about against him. It was easier and safer to keep people at a distance, and the fact that he was resentful of being deprived of anything close to a normal life because of his precarious position helped fuel the bitter mask he used to repel anyone who might try to get close. It was a lesson that he had learnt at his father's knee -- or more accurately, from the back of his father's hand -- and his experiences after leaving his father's house for good had done little to disprove the notion that caring was a form of weakness to be exploited by the cruel.
Pushing his sleeve down, Severus leaned against the balustrade once more, staring at the sunlight glinting on the surface of the water without really seeing it. His attempts at introspection had done little but make him feel restless and dissatisfied. He hated his life; the problem was, he wasn't certain how to go about changing it. He was not a handsome man, nor was he possessed of a charming personality, and after years of cultivating a demeanor designed to drive people away, he doubted he would be able to win over those whom he had managed to alienate.
With a sigh, he dropped his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he wanted to do. All he did know was that he was unhappy, and everyone he had habitually blamed his misery on was either dead or gone, leaving him with no convenient scapegoats. It went against his personal grain to admit he was wrong about anything, but in this case, he had to concede that his present state of affairs was his own doing.
He had no real excuse for being unhappy anymore, either. He disliked teaching, but it was tolerable now that Potter and the last of the Weasley horde were gone. He had his freedom, he was comfortably well-off -- not enough to retire, unfortunately, but enough that he could indulge himself with high quality cauldrons and all the books he wanted -- and he was relatively young yet. If he wanted to change things, then he could, and the bottom line was that he did want to.
He had existed for twenty years; he was ready to live again. He wanted to revel in his new freedom. He wanted to do everything he had denied himself for all these years. The summer just after he had left Hogwarts was the last -- the only -- time he could remember feeling carefree. He remembered nights filled with sex and absinthe, drunken laughter, entwined limbs, and skin sticky with sweat. It hadn't lasted, of course, but it had been a bright spot on his otherwise bleak existence. He wanted to feel that way again, or at least as close as he could, given that he was no longer that naive boy.
Standing up straight again, he clenched his fists at his sides, resolute. No longer would he be bound by fear; he would live his life on his own terms, and be damned to anyone who tried to stop him. He had earned this, and he would have it. He had heard some of his colleagues discussing plans to meet at the Leaky Cauldron, and that seemed as good a place as any to start. He would take pains with his appearance -- perhaps a new shampoo and some tooth-whitening powder wouldn't be amiss -- and he would enjoy a night out once in a while.
He didn't hope for laughter, and he no longer believed in love, but the sex and absinthe -- that was still in the realm of the possible, even for him. He would order absinthe and let the green fairy strip away his inhibitions, and he would find someone to tumble into bed with. It would not be the one whom his heart loathed and adored in equal measures, the one whose name rose unbidden to his lips when he could no longer deny the needs of his flesh and sought release. That hope had died long ago, but now -- now he would enjoy pleasure and companionship without ties.
He was alive, he was free, and it was about damned time he started acting that way.
Status: Private
Summary: Severus contemplates his life and his future.
Completion: Complete
Severus leaned against the stone balustrade and gazed out across the lake; the wind was brisk that day, making the surface of the water choppy, and Severus' robes whipped around his lean body as he stood there, lost in thought. He'd been doing a lot of thinking lately; soul-searching was not an activity that Severus particularly cared to indulge in, not considering the state of his soul, but all the recent upheavals and their aftermath had given him a great deal to think about.
Straightening, he pushed up his left sleeve and gazed down at his forearm; he'd been doing a lot of that lately, too, and it still surprised him to see nothing there, not even the vaguest shadow of the Mark he had borne for twenty years. He had taken it shortly after leaving Hogwarts. Within three years, he had regretted the decision, but unlike That Idiot Black the Younger, Severus had successfully got out by staying in, using the Occlumency skills Albus had taught him to cozen the Dark Lord and stay alive until the war was over -- both times.
After the first war, he had known his job wasn't yet finished. This time, however, it was well and truly over, and for the first time since he was a teenager, Severus was free. Totally and completely free.
That he had no idea what to do with his new-found freedom was something he barely wanted to admit to himself, much less to anyone else, but it was true nonetheless. For two decades, he had been tethered by his ties to Albus and to the Dark Lord, shrouded in the anger, bitterness, and fear that ruled his life; he had lived an ascetic life, trapped in a job he hated out of necessity, not daring to let his control slip lest it cost lives, including his own.
Relationships had been risky; if the Dark Lord had discovered the truth, Severus had no doubt that he would have used anyone whom Severus had cared about against him. It was easier and safer to keep people at a distance, and the fact that he was resentful of being deprived of anything close to a normal life because of his precarious position helped fuel the bitter mask he used to repel anyone who might try to get close. It was a lesson that he had learnt at his father's knee -- or more accurately, from the back of his father's hand -- and his experiences after leaving his father's house for good had done little to disprove the notion that caring was a form of weakness to be exploited by the cruel.
Pushing his sleeve down, Severus leaned against the balustrade once more, staring at the sunlight glinting on the surface of the water without really seeing it. His attempts at introspection had done little but make him feel restless and dissatisfied. He hated his life; the problem was, he wasn't certain how to go about changing it. He was not a handsome man, nor was he possessed of a charming personality, and after years of cultivating a demeanor designed to drive people away, he doubted he would be able to win over those whom he had managed to alienate.
With a sigh, he dropped his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he wanted to do. All he did know was that he was unhappy, and everyone he had habitually blamed his misery on was either dead or gone, leaving him with no convenient scapegoats. It went against his personal grain to admit he was wrong about anything, but in this case, he had to concede that his present state of affairs was his own doing.
He had no real excuse for being unhappy anymore, either. He disliked teaching, but it was tolerable now that Potter and the last of the Weasley horde were gone. He had his freedom, he was comfortably well-off -- not enough to retire, unfortunately, but enough that he could indulge himself with high quality cauldrons and all the books he wanted -- and he was relatively young yet. If he wanted to change things, then he could, and the bottom line was that he did want to.
He had existed for twenty years; he was ready to live again. He wanted to revel in his new freedom. He wanted to do everything he had denied himself for all these years. The summer just after he had left Hogwarts was the last -- the only -- time he could remember feeling carefree. He remembered nights filled with sex and absinthe, drunken laughter, entwined limbs, and skin sticky with sweat. It hadn't lasted, of course, but it had been a bright spot on his otherwise bleak existence. He wanted to feel that way again, or at least as close as he could, given that he was no longer that naive boy.
Standing up straight again, he clenched his fists at his sides, resolute. No longer would he be bound by fear; he would live his life on his own terms, and be damned to anyone who tried to stop him. He had earned this, and he would have it. He had heard some of his colleagues discussing plans to meet at the Leaky Cauldron, and that seemed as good a place as any to start. He would take pains with his appearance -- perhaps a new shampoo and some tooth-whitening powder wouldn't be amiss -- and he would enjoy a night out once in a while.
He didn't hope for laughter, and he no longer believed in love, but the sex and absinthe -- that was still in the realm of the possible, even for him. He would order absinthe and let the green fairy strip away his inhibitions, and he would find someone to tumble into bed with. It would not be the one whom his heart loathed and adored in equal measures, the one whose name rose unbidden to his lips when he could no longer deny the needs of his flesh and sought release. That hope had died long ago, but now -- now he would enjoy pleasure and companionship without ties.
He was alive, he was free, and it was about damned time he started acting that way.