I'll Always Do My Best For Him...

A/N: Thanks to my beta, Auguerey27! Hope you enjoy this chapter. I worked hard to keep it all canon compliant. Warning: Squick, and the aftermath of violence involved.

***

For the next two months, my life began to change in ways I never thought it would. My husband, teacher, and mentor became everything to me as he led me down the path to darkness. Occlumency, Legilimency, Wizard Dueling, fighting “Muggle style”, as he called it; I worked harder at fighting and put more energy into these particular disciplines than I thought my body was capable. My husband was far more disciplined than I, but he was older and more experienced. After one successful lesson, however, I had come very close to disarming him. He told me in all honesty that at eighteen, even with all the Dark Magic he knew, I would have been able to match him in a duel.

I would be awakened at 2 or 4 in the morning with questions shouted at me. Intimate questions would assault my mind while he stood above me screaming, “Legilimens!” right out of a deep sleep to catch me off my guard. That was hard to discipline. My mind rose too quickly to anger.

“Control your anger!” he would pound into my head over and over again. There were times I felt my mind was being raped, and I feared I would sink and succumb into madness. Indeed, there were moments I thought I was losing my sanity. But Snape was ever present, never relenting; he would never let me fall. By June, I was starting to tread water.

“You have disciplines now that I had not acquired until I was in my early twenties,” he confided in me one day as we walked together after an afternoon lesson in the forest. He turned sharply to face me. “Now, you have the knowledge and the patience. If Crabbe, Goyle, or MacNair ever had the misfortune of meeting you today, you would be able to disarm them and even kill them with absurd ease. Now Malfoy, he is very good at dueling. Very good, indeed.”

At the mention of his name, I stopped dead in my tracks. “He was the first one,” I whispered.

Snape whirled around. I never spoke to him about that terrible day. He never knew any details, at least from me.

“He was the one who took my virginity,” I said softly, my eyes glazed over, lost in memories.

I looked up at my husband. “I want him to suffer—cruelly.”

“As do I," he declared, reaching out his hand for me to take.

After seeing me to the castle, he was to make his way to watch the final portion of the Triwizard Tournament. As we walked in unison, I peered up from under my hood to watch my husband’s face. It disturbed me that we had spent so much time together, and I could still feel so numb towards him. I didn’t know if I was even female anymore. I just wanted to be a machine that could never be hurt. I looked up at my husband, my model, and I smiled.

“What cold eyes you have in that smile, Mary,” he appraised.

“Thank you, Severus,” I replied as I turned from him. I never saw the frown on his face.

***

He came back so late. I had been afraid. As soon as I saw him, I knew something was amiss.

“What happened?” I barked.

“Cedric Diggory is dead, the Dark Lord has returned, and Harry Potter escaped from him barely alive. Oh, and Mad-Eye Moody was actually Barty Crouch’s son in disguise—using MY POTIONS!” he roared.

He moved about so fast, changing shirts gathering papers. I couldn’t grasp it all.

“Wait, WAIT!” I yelled.

He stopped. “Mary, I have to meet the Dark Lord, NOW.” He showed me the Dark Mark, black as sin.

“I’ve kept him waiting for two hours. I can not be distracted!” He swung on his cloak and said goodbye.

I thought to myself, they would all be together: Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, and MacNair. I want to be there. I hope there will be pain for them!

I stopped myself. “My God! Listen to me—I’m just so full of hate!”

I wanted to sleep, but I had no potion. I paced up and down, tried to study, but couldn’t focus. Finally, he came back around four in the morning, and he was a mangled mess.

The door crashed open and he staggered in. He tried to brace himself, but fell to the floor.

“Oh my God—Severus!” I screamed. I turned him onto his back and assessed the damage. He had cuts and burns, just a bloody mess! I didn’t even know where to start. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him all the way in and closed the door. I grabbed a pillow and put it behind his head, kneeling at his side.

“Severus,” I called to him.

He moaned in pain. “Severus!” I called louder.

“Wake up! What happened?”

“Cruciatus,” he whispered.

Bloody hell!

I hesitated. I didn’t know how to begin treating him or if I should. Oh, well, he’s seen me naked!

I slowly eased off his clothes, at times even ripping parts that were too mangled. I got my wand and levitated him onto the bed. Why the hell did I not think of that before when I drug him through the door?

“Because you are Muggleborn,” he laughed painfully.

I lifted my head sharply. “I thought you couldn’t read minds!” I snapped.

“When the emotion is so focused and powerful, you might as well be screaming it down the hall,” he murmured as he chuckled softly.

It took a long time to treat all the wounds. He told me what to use and where. The worst was when I pulled down his underwear and saw he had been tortured in his private areas. My throat reacted with the urge to retch at the sight. He told me to get a specific bottle, and I applied it to his genitals. His face was red with shame as he turned his face from mine. I focused on the task and refused to shrink from him.

“No need for shame, Severus,” I said stoutly as I applied the medicine. “I know how you feel. You know how I feel. There is no shame with us.”

After all the wounds had been tended and he was finally asleep, I slipped into the bathroom. I closed the door softly and slid down to the floor and cried. I didn’t know which pain was worse: my own or witnessing his. One thing was clear: his pain was mine, just as he had taken my pain upon himself for me. I looked down at my bloody nightshirt and bloodstained hands. His blood. I choked as I sobbed soundlessly, wrapping my bloodied hands around my legs shaking in agony. I knew then we were truly married. No other act could be more sacred than the acts of mercy we had both preformed on each another.

When I finally opened the door, I felt as if the scared, hurt, little girl was gone. I felt suddenly much older and wiser than my eighteen years. Why? Because I felt for the first time I knew nothing for certain, except the need to care for the man who had sheltered me—who was now entrusted to me.

I sat on the bed and moved his head onto my thigh. I stroked his hair and looked hard into the face of my husband. When he awoke, he got up without complaint and dressed.

“We’re going to my home for the summer,” he announced weakly.

“Fine.” I stood and began packing. He stared at me and frowned.

“Mary,” he called.

I looked up at him. “Yes?”

“You undressed me, treated my wounds. You saw …” His face turned to a shade of brick.

“Yes, Severus,” I admitted. “I treated all your wounds exactly in the manner you advised.”

“You touched me,” he whispered, almost accusatory.

“Yes,” I replied as I looked deep into his face. “You are my husband. It is my responsibility to care for you. That includes your physical state. And it is also my honor.”

I turned back to resume my packing. I never saw the look of respect for me on his face.