DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, except an overactive imagination and a bad case of insomnia.

SUMMARY: It was a normal day- well, as normal as things could be with for Ginny with a war raging around her and love sweeping her off her feet- that lead to the most terrifying situation any witch would ever want to be in: captured by Death Eaters and held captive by the man who killed Albus Dumbledore, the man whom he trusted until his dying breath. Will Ginny be able to see past the harsh mask of a man who has endured so much pain that he is afraid to feel? A story of redemption and compassion, of forgiving others and learning how to forgive yourself

“Damn her!” Assured that Ginny Weasley was sleeping soundly in the next room as the result of a sleeping potion he had just slipped her, Severus Snape stormed into his study, seething with rage. He cursed the girl.

Why?! Why did she have to be so noble?! Why did she have to get herself captured?! He didn’t want to think about what the Dark Lord would do to her. He would torture her, make her scream until her lungs were raw, and then he would kill her. The bastard delighted in it, took perverse pleasure from inflicting pain on others, especially those less powerful than himself.

‘Just some more blood on my hands,’ he thought, a wry smile completely devoid of emotion flitting across his face.

He bent over the chest of drawers in the corner of the room, his back hunched, his black hair falling in sheets over his face. Slowly, he lifted his head to confront his face in the mirror which hung crookedly on the wall. A wave of hatred overtook the pale man as he saw his own greasy black hair, hooked nose, and sallow skin reflected back at him.

The tradition of innocent people being hurt because of him started when he was just six years old, when he had first begun to show signs of magic. His father had been something of a religious zealot, which was a bit hypocritical of him considering his strong fondness for alcohol and violence, and any combination of the two. The feeling of terror that had shot through Snape when his father saw him perform magic chilled Snape even today.

“You filthy little heathen!” his father shouted, and the trembling Severus could smell the whiskey on his breath. He had continued then, in a voice that was softer, but infinitely more frightening “You’re practicing in the devil’s work, so I think I’ll send you to hell, where you belong.”

Tobias Snape lifted his hand above his head, and Severus squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself, paralyzed with fear.

“Stop!” said another voice, this time female. Both her voice and her body were trembling in the presence of her much stronger husband, but she held her ground. “It isn’t the devil’s work. I can do magic too, and many other people can as well. The gift has obviously been passed on to Severus”

“Gift?” Tobias yelled incredulously, “this boy has been cursed! And now I see exactly where the fault lies!” His icy gaze left Severus and traveled to room to land on Eileen Prince Snape. “You’ve put some hind of hocus pocus trick on him! You’ll pay, woman!” With that, Tobias charged at his wife and struck at her face with his fist, hard.

Severus stood motionless for a moment, too shocked to even think, before his survival instincts took over and he took cover behind a couch. He wanted to do something, to run out and help his mother, but he knew it would be pointless.

His father was much bigger and stronger than him, and he knew that venturing out boldly would accomplish nothing but getting himself hurt along with his mother. She had done this to protect him, that much he knew. If he got himself hurt now, her standing up for him would have been pointless. And so he stayed motionless,, wanting desperately to turn away from the horror taking place in front of him, but unable to do so.

Then, he caught his mother’s eye, just for a second. She mouthed one word to him before her body contorted once more in pain as Tobias landed a kick on her side. “Run!”.

And so Severus ran. He ran faster and longer than he ever had in his life, and it felt like, as long as he kept running, he would be safe.

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When he felt a stitch beginning to form in his side, he found himself a church, and, not knowing what else to do, pulled open the heavy wooden door guarding the entrance and threw himself inside. His chest heaved, and he realized with a jolt that it wasn’t from exhaustion, but from sobbing. The noise seemed to attract attention, and a woman in a long black dress and head covering hurried to see what was wrong.

“Shh” she murmured, kneeling down in front of him. “Everything will be alright. Just calm yourself. Shh”. She pulled him into a gentle embrace, and after a few moments he opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed unwilling to come out properly.

“M-My mother!” he gasped out at last., “Sh-she’s d-d-“ He knew that what he was trying to say was the truth, as much as he wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it, because saying it would make it real. His father had done things like this before, but never before had he been so angry, or so drunk on the same night. “She’s dead,” he finished finally, another stab of pain going through him at saying it out loud.

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The woman, who was a young nun living in the church nunnery, was horrified. She knew enough about children to know when one was positively traumatized, and she felt sick at the thought of what this child must have witnessed..

“I’m so sorry, child. But if you help me, we can find your father, and get you home” she assured him, still in a calm tone as if speaking to a particularly jumpy wild animal. She realized at once that this was entirely the wrong thing to have said.

The child, already pale, turned absolutely white. He shook his head silently, his face contorted in fear. “No..no..no…NO!” It began as a whisper and ended as a strangled shout as he backed slowly away from her, his eyes wide. “H-He’ll k-k-kill me!” The boy pleaded, and she saw in his eyes that he believed what he said completely.

Although living in a convent was a sheltered lifestyle, the young woman still knew enough of the world to put two and two together.

“Oh, you poor child” she whispered. “Don’t worry, we won’t make you go back to your father. What’s your name, child?”

Her statement seemed to calm him slightly, and he answered her “Sev-Severus Snape, ma’am”.

“Alright, Severus, we’ll find a place for you to live, don’t worry” Her words were calm, but there was a fire blazing in her eyes that made Severus sure that she was indeed telling the truth.

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“Enough!” Snape growled, surprising himself a bit that he had actually said it out loud. He couldn’t afford to drown in memories of the past; it was over and done with, and no amount of tears or regrets could change that. He couldn’t afford to go soft, not now.

With that, Snape got up, and forced himself to think rationally, of the present, not the past. He paced up and down his study, trying to think of some viable solution to this newfound problem, but none came readily to his mind.

Suddenly, Snape doubled over in pain as the Dark Mark tattooed onto his arm burned his skin. If he hadn’t felt this same horrible pain countless times before now, he wouldn’t have managed to contain the small cry of pain that almost passed from between his lips. He was calling. Snape hadn’t expected a summons to come, not so soon after the last, but now that it had come, he had no real option but to go.

He pulled a dark cloak and white mask from where they always lay, ready for these unexpected calls, and unceremoniously threw them on over his robes.

Merlin, the pain was getting worse! What the hell did he want this time? Although he could hardly straight, Snape managed to calm himself sufficiently to Occlude his mind, hiding his true thought far deep inside his mind, where no one would ever find them.

Snape muttered a word under his breath, and, for once thankful that he could manipulate his anti-apparition wards so easily, apparated to the Dark Lord’s side.

Only once he had arrived, and it was far too late to do anything about it, did he realize that, in the confusion of the summons, he had forgotten to reestablish the wards guarding his study.