Disclaimer: I DIDN’T INVENT THSE CHARACTERS; THEY ALL BELONG TO THE MULTIMILLIONAIRE J.K. ROWLING. Any questions?

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I suppose I first met him when I was nearly what they call “middle aged”. He on the other hand, was much younger, and despite the bored air of cynicism and sarcasm he maintained, I saw immediately that he was capable of achieving things beyond the cautious examples of regular souls. And he knew it too.

My favourite part about Severus was (and always will be) how he looked just before something went perfectly. There was such a self-satisfied look of positive triumph on his face when everything fell into place; most people couldn’t stand that because it looked condescending; I however, loved that glorious little smirk; it used to be the physical manifestation of my mind state.

It was maybe in fact, that small bit of suppressed superiority that originally drew me to him. I wanted to know what he had; and I wanted to destroy it completely.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked; he was sitting alone in the corner of a café reading the bible and smiling at it slightly, as if he found it very funny.

“No, take it,” he said without looking up.

“Did you know you cannot apperate or disapperate inside churches?” I asked casually. I guess I was trying to shock him, though I wasn’t really aware of my intention at the time.

He looked up at me with quiet interest. “I did not know that. I’ve never been inside one.” I saw him glance at his bible and stick a napkin in between the pages he was reading.

“What part are you on?” I said, gesturing to the book slightly.

“Revelation.”

“Ah –That’s my favourite. A wonderful vision.”

He gave me a completely priceless look. “It’s hysterical,” he replied, a wistful smile playing around his mouth.

“I’m Lord Voldemort, who are you?”

“A nobody, I’ve heard a lot of things about you; my name’s Severus Snape.”

I must admit, was surprised that he’d heard of me, or maybe flattered to be more accurate. This was before Deatheater was a widespread term, and also before my name became so greatly feared.

“So, then I guess you know what my next question will be – what is your answer?”

“Be part of your gang? Well…” he looked thoughtful. I couldn’t tell if he’d made up his mind yet or not.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course …” his facial features adjusted themselves ever so slightly; I knew he’d made his decision.

“Think about it,” I said abruptly, getting up. I knew he had been about to say ‘yes’, but I thought it would seem more generous if I gave him time to think about the thing he now wanted to tell me.

“I will.”

After that, he joined me quickly. We got along well, maybe too well even. I liked talking to him because he made me think. Not in the conventional way of pestering people to the point of forcing the internal process. But in a cleverer, and more carefully aimed way, that made me admit things to myself, about my nature that I had formerly ignored.

“So, you think you can start everything all over again?” He asked me one night; he had no head for alcohol of any kind and was becoming giddy.

“No,” I said, thinking I was being honest.

“Yes you do.” He answered as if he were correcting me, “Why do you want to change things?” I opened my mouth to this, but he started talking again. “I mean, other than because you don’t like them.”

“Well, that’s a stupid question, haven’t I…” for a moment I stopped, thinking for the first time about why I hated certain things and idealized others. That had been his real question all along: Why?

We were sitting in my apartment, looking out the huge window at the lit up city and reddish night clouds.

“I suppose,” I began carefully, “Because there is so much injustice everywhere. I want to make people aware of it. If I can make people see it they will become conscious of it.”

“So, you mean that you strive to end things because you think that by taking them away, you’ll make people miss and appreciate them?” He asked, taking in some more red wine.

“I suppose so…” To be completely truthful I’d never thought about it that way in my entire life.

“I bet you have no conscious.” He said, beginning to slur a little.

I pondered that a moment. Could that be? I decided it was possible but not very probable.

Everything I did was perfectly justifiable. I did the things I did because the world was a horrible place filled with good things that people did not deserve.

“I think, my lord…that you must be nearly a god. Or maybe an immensely warped savior. You are the only person I have ever known with the strength and willingness to become the perfect reflection of everything that this planet needs to be purged of…”

I think he started to cry at that point, but we only had candles so I will never be sure.

“Come again?” I asked, mainly because I wanted to hear more praise then anything else.

“And the third angel poured out his vial upon the rivers and fountains of waters; and they became blood. And I heard the angel of the waters say, Thou art righteous, O Lord, which art, and wast, and shalt be, because thou haste judged thus. For they have shed the blood of saints and prophets, and thou hast given them blood to drink; for it they are worthy…Thou are righteous, O Lord; you’re making the ultimate sacrifice for everyone, by taking in the very essence of evil you are riding the world of it.” He gave a wistful little sigh and propped his head up in his hand, staring numbly out the window.

It never ceased to amaze me how he saw things. I couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious, it didn’t really matter, of course. Though I still wished him to have given me more of hint.

Shortly after that we got into a conversation that I cannot truly remember, but I can recall that after it ended, he kissed my shirt collar, tenderly, and left.

Another time that stands out in my memory was when I first introduced him to Lucious Malfoy. As all of us shared the same basic principles I imagined it would be a complete nightmare.

After the formal meetings and greetings were over, Lucious asked if we would like to hear some piano. Both Severus and me said we would. Lucious sat down on the bench and played Bach for us; after he was done I told him I thought he’d played well. Lucious gave Severus a smirk and began to talk about how it took true discipline and talent to play piano, and that it was a pity he was the only one of us who could know music’s secret joy.

This time I saw Severus smirk. Again, it seemed an utterly beautiful gesture. Severus walked over to where Lucious was still sitting at the piano bench, “this a fine instrument you have, Sir…I don’t believe I’ve ever been so near to one so beautiful.”

I saw Lucious look incredibly self-satisfied at that point; little did he know that Severus only gave compliments when he was either drunk or deceiving someone.

“Would you mind if I sat at the bench?” He asked, Lucious raised an eyebrow and gave me a perfectly devilish smile.

“Oh no, I don’t mind at all…why don’t you play something for us?”

“I…” Severus began slowly, but Lucious cut him off saying:

“How could you possibly know an instrument’s value if you can’t play it?” He made a disapproving sound and gave Severus what I thought a very un-host-like look. I was even about to say something to Severus’s defense, thinking he might need rescuing, but, to my surprise, he had a card up sleeve after all.

“You have a good point.” He said, tossed Lucious’s Bach book out of the way and started to play.

It was the most beautiful sound! I’m sure Lucious and me just stared at him with our mouths half open for the longest time. Lucious always played formally, as if he was trying to get praise; he sounded slightly snobbish.

Severus however: now Severus had the touch. I couldn’t have been more moved if he’d poured his heart out to me. The piece flowed like liquid, every note calling out in the air like an angel’s voice. They say a good violinist can make a violin sound as if it’s crying; but Severus could make the piano weep.

I was so enraptured with the music that it nearly devastated me when he stopped. I am sure Lucious felt the same, but he couldn’t admit it to himself.

I know somewhere around that time I began to think Severus was my son, and I believe Severus thought so too.

I guess this period was one of the most pleasant I’ve ever had. I saw him nearly everyday. The sacrifices we made as Deatheaters were put aside in daylight. Or at least they were for me; I purchased a piano just so I could hear Severus play. It might appear frivolous to you, but it has always seemed to me that I sold my soul very early in life, and when Severus played for me it was as if I could at least share one for a while.

But things were not to continue like this. It was not long before something very unfortunate, which I’m sure you already know about, took place.

I wouldn’t say it bothers me, or that it ever did, but I must say, it was a pity. Even now, I still look back in near awe of that young man who had such flashes of brilliance, and I wonder how he could have fallen so far and fast.

It is popular belief that he deceived me during the time he spied on us Deatheaters, but that is only a half- truth. For the most part, Severus was a superb liar, but he had one problem: his music never did.

He knew it too. So, for the longest time I couldn’t understand why he stopped playing. At last I begged him. And then it all came out. The divinity of his notes was gone, he sounded only slightly better then Lucious. I was furious, but also heart broken at the same time.

For a dangerous amount of time, I did nothing. But then I found out that he had, through his spying, come into contact with a man named Albus Dumbledore. It became evident that some coarse of action needed to be taken.

So, one night, I asked him to play for me again, it was the first time I’d asked since he’d given away his betrayal. As he seated himself at the piano, I said this to him: “Tell me, Severus, are you familiar with this quote from Julius Caesar; ‘he hears no music. Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort as if he mocked himself, and scorned his spirit that could be moved to smile at anything. Such men as he be never at heart’s ease whiles they behold a greater than themselves, and therefore are they very dangerous.’ That is Caesar speaking of Cassius. Now, play for me Severus, and think, are you familiar with that?”

Severus said nothing for a moment. He then casually brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes and asked me what I wanted him to play; I thought he looked different, not especially nervous, but just slightly different.

I told him to play “Piano Concerto No.20” by Mozart.

He nodded and began to play. Again, his music had changed. He sounded much better now, but there was a frightening quality to it suddenly. Or at least frightening to me.

The notes sang gracefully and more beautifully then I’d ever heard before, and yet, something was different; the angelic part was gone. It was now replaced by a complexity that I couldn’t describe.

And then I realized what it was: somehow, instead of sending his soul into the music, he had found a way to send the music to the core of others.

I wondered briefly how on earth he did it, then it came to me: He was lying with such utter perfection. The deception had become something that was so flawless he’d nearly convinced himself of it.

The revelation of that was the last straw. I slowly got up and set one hand on his shoulder, gently; he did not stop. With my other hand I held my want not an inch away from the back of his head.

I could not believe how my hand was shaking, but it was. We stood like that for a moment or so; his face was utterly calm and meditative, as if he were falling under an enchanted sleep. He looked so different compared to the time he’d played for Lucious and me!

The passion was gone, there was no longer a drive behind the song; instead there was a listless sense to the music, he sounded like he’d left his path and was wandering aimlessly across destiny, indifferent whichever way he drifted.

But he would soon realize his mistake. I would teach him that now. “Crucio,” I whispered in his ear.

He cried out in pain; I shoved him off the bench and started to kick him anywhere I could think of. He scarcely resisted; that only made me hit him harder, I wanted him to do something, I wanted him to get his will back.

“Why did you do it?” I murmured, once I had stopped and was standing over him.

“Because I was mislead.”

“More mislead then you are now?” I asked.

“Yes, I was a believer.”

“And now you are a lost soul. You have lost your sense of justice.”

“I have not. I have a conscious, I am human – So Are You. The ‘justice’ you’re bringing is nothing more then destruction and inhumanity; look around at all the atrocities we’ve committed…”

I raised my wand again and said “Crucio.” Only this time I think I screamed it.

“You are worthy to drink blood!” He spat at me as pain surged in his eyes.

It was such a sad thing for him to say. I was so disappointed with him. Deep inside my heart I knew it was far too late for him, for he had lied inside his heart too much, but I didn’t want to admit it. “You can still redeem yourself, Severus, it’s not too late you know,” I told him, more then ready to be forgiving.

“I hope you’re right,” he said and suddenly disapperated.

I later heard that vengeful and corrupt man Dumbledore took him in. I also heard that he stopped playing the piano, I suppose that I am the only person in this world who knows why.

I still don’t hate him. In fact, I’ve forgiven him, now I merely pity him; but that’s a secret, and not even Severus himself knows. It pains me to think about his fall from grace: So much that I know I can’t allow someone who was once so close to me suffer the way he is now.

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When reading Tarot cards, the Knight of Swords represents either a person who is tough, courageous, and intelligent. Or a situation that calls for quick, but wise decision-making.

When reading Tarot cards, the Knight of Swords Reversed represents a sarcastic, chaotic, and violent person. Or it may warn against self-destructive behavior and deception.

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Small note: (I guess) okay…kinda old fic, but I did go around and change stuff, y’know, got rid of some rambling and sentimental boring things… switched words around so it read smoother, tweaked it here and there so it wasn’t as romantic…in short, it got a real editing job. And from me,( who has the audacity to post first drafts)-- that’s pretty special ;0) Er…dedicated to Sabina, Bonnie, and anyone lonely. Thanks for reading!