A/N
Okay, so this is my new story. It's Severus Snape X O.C.
One night not too long ago, I fell asleep listening to the song "Red Sam" by Flyleaf.
As I slept, I had a dream, and when I awoke, I constructed a story to go along with it.
Also, as it is only fitting, this story is based on the song that I had been listening to when the dream ensued.
I hope you guys like this, I'm working very hard on it.
I had not changed much over the years…Physically speaking, of course. For you see, I had changed a great deal. I had no one to blame for this but myself. Indeed, having been sent to Azkaban seemed to have quite an affect on me…
It seemed so very bizarre that the entirety of the wizarding world could be rocked by something so simple as legilimency… Albeit, it was illegally used. However, it was hardly worth being sent to Azkaban.
Azkaban….
Now, that was Hell, in every aspect of the word. I could hardly handle the seven months I spent there. It was very fortunate for me that I was released early on 'good behavior.'
Yes, well….Whatever Fudge liked to call it. I suppose sitting in my cell like a living carcass could be characterized as 'good behavior.' I was perfectly happy to not be required to serve my original six year term.
Dolores Umbridge, it seemed, had a particular bone to pick with me. I'm sure I don't know why…. I've barely spoken to the woman in all my life. Nonetheless, she made certain that the dementors swarmed me at least twelve times a month. And then she, of course, would request visits with me.
"My dear Lucinda," She would say to me from the opposite side of the glass. "You must realize the similarity of the effects of your misuse of legilimency and the effects of the dementors. You cannot cause misery upon one without having the happiness stripped from yourself in return."
"Merlin's Beard, Woman!" I cried, slamming my fists against the glass. "You're completely batty! Out of your mind!"
She would giggle in that obscenely aggravating way. Her snobbish ways would soon catch up with her. Of that I was certain. It was after my outburst that the guards would come, and I would have my 'much-deserved' session with the dementors.
They suck all the happiness from you, this is true. Yet, I found that I, myself, was always quite an enigma. I was already unhappy to begin with. Life was a pointless shambles. There was nothing truly brilliant to strive towards living for.
They would throw me in a dark room, one that was not my own cell… No, I could take part in no comfort for this. Just the presence of a single dementor would cause my very body and soul to go numb. I would lay on my back, the cold, hard stone of the floor pressing into my spine as the dementors hovered up above me. I could not see them…the room was much too dark. I could only wait, fearful, cold and alone, as they approached me. I would always know when they were inches from me. I could practically feel my breath freezing in the air. It was such a horrific feeling….I fear I might never be able to view the cold in the same manner.
It was these frequent visits to the dementors that broke me. Upon my stay in Azkaban, and even to this point, I found I had to search in order to find a favorable memory. One might say that all the good things in my life have come laced with pain….
One might wish that the dementors were bad enough alone. With no happy memory to call my own, it was hard enough getting to sleep. The person who had occupied my cell before me had scratched out the number of weeks they had spent in Azkaban on the wall with their fingernails. I found that the best remedy to insomnia would be to count the etchings…Nearing one hundred forty-eight before I would fall asleep.
Sleep…So hard to come by in Azkaban. One might fall asleep, indeed. Yet the screams, the cries, the whimpering noises of the other inmates were enough to rouse a muggle from the deepest coma. It was all fine and well during the day. I daresay bearable. Yet at night….that was when it was always its worst.
When I would lay awake at night, too disturbed to perform my numerical lullaby, I would think. Knowing the consequences of my actions now, would I have still done what I did? My inappropriate usage of legilimency? Merlin knows my intentions were only for the best….Yet the law did not seem to care.
"Rules are rules, my dear." Umbridge never seemed to have trouble reminding me.
And the day I left Azkaban, perhaps, became my happiest memory. It was not at all that I was relieved to be rid of the place, to be re-inserted into society, to have the chance to live a normal life. That day is such a sugar-coated delight to my mind for the sole fact that it was torturous for Umbridge. Her victim of relentless taunting and pointless chidings was now a free member of society. I should think she felt all her lectures on how 'punishment is well-deserved payment for one's crimes' had gone completely to waste. Well, they were wasted on me, anyhow.
When Fudge decided to release me, Umbridge was, to say the least, furious. And yet, the day came despite her protests. Escorting me from my cell, Cornelius placed his hand on my back, guiding my way toward the civilized world. Passing bars after bars of people, some I considered just as innocent as myself, I felt my heart cringe even more. These pathetic souls would rot away in here, and I had just gotten my lucky break. It was quite difficult to brood over such things, as Umbridge was scattering behind me, screeching all her 'I mean no disrespect' s …and 'Forgive me for saying so' s…
My release, apparently, was an outrage to the wizarding world.
"I mean, Cornelius, really! What kind of a message are we sending to our people if we let this criminal walk free? Much less, teach at Hogwarts! It is absolutely unheard of! Ridiculous! The scandal of the decade!"
"Dolores," he cautioned, turning his head slightly to make eye contact with her. "With 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' back on the rise, Hogwarts needs a proper occlumency and legilimency professor. Our own Lucinda Redbourn-" his other hand slammed painfully down upon my shoulder- "is perfect for the job! Several of today's greatest witches and wizards vouch that she is a master occlumen and legilimen. We'd be putting our young people at risk not to have her! And that, my dear, dear Dolores, would be the scandal of the decade."
And so this is how I find myself walking the halls of Hogwarts once more. It felt strange and misplaced to be here. My last memories here weren't ones I was particularly fond of….
A seemingly infinite number of students were making their way towards the Great Hall. No one would miss the grand celebration, the beginning of the new school year. I wound my way towards clusters of unsorted first years, holding my books slightly above my head so that I would not drop them.
A familiar sight took hold of me then, the first floor girl's lavatory. It held so much for me…it played such a large role in the demise that was my seventh year at Hogwarts. I felt my feet slowing their pace, then come to a complete stop in front of the door. I stared at the lavatory door, using my left arm to huddle my books protectively against my chest; my right hand clenched and unclenched by my side in anger.
It took some time, but I was finally able to will myself away. If I didn't hurry to the Great Hall I would, undoubtedly, be late. It comforted me to know that I would be under the supervision of a very great and forgiving headmaster. Albus Dumbledore had retained this respectable position from the time when I, myself, was a student.
Yes, I knew I would run into many ghosts from my past. I just prayed I would not see him…..
I would have some comfort, however. My dearest and oldest friend, Sibyll Trelawney, would undoubtedly keep my spirits and morale high. As far as I knew, she was the Divination professor, and I looked forward to arriving at the Great Hall early so that I might secure a seat with her.
Continuing on, I fidgeted uncomfortably in my own clothes. What on earth had I even chose to wear? Formal black slacks, a black blouse…both of which, I might add, were ridiculously overheated. Of course, I would undoubtedly wear my robes during my classes. Overtop this I boasted my favorite cloak, one which bore the tiny insignia of the Ravenclaw house.
My mind was a nervous jumble. I had just quit thinking about Sibyll, and now my mind was back on her again. What did she even look like, again? My moments with her were the happiest and purest. There had been no secrets between us. I remember her, and I remember the good times that come associated with her…yet to be asked to recall a specific memory of her was impossible. And when trying to summon an image of her, all I could manage was a vague blur. The prison guards, who had been so apologetic and sympathetic to me upon my departure, assured me that lapses in my memories were merely a side effect of my abundant dementor visits. They guaranteed me that my memories would slowly start flooding back to me after a few weeks outside of Azkaban. Far from all the horrors…far from all the dementors…..
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I never saw the other figure coming from the adjacent corridor. Our bodies slammed together and my own, weakened by months in the wizard prison, was sent flying backward. My books landed scattered on the floor, their impacts marked by loud smacking noises that reverberated around the quickly emptying hall.
I tried to sit up as quickly as I could, pushing my mess of long, light-brown hair from in front of my face, simultaneously blindly searching on my hands and knees for my fallen books.
"I'm so terribly sorry," I called out to whomever it was that I had bumped.
A grunting noise was made in return.
A hand suddenly came into my vision, most of my hair cleared from my face. It was being offered to me as a means to help me stand. I graciously took it and, when I was back up on my feet, I bent forward to pick up one of the books, which had landed before me.
There was a hint of Déjà vu in this incident, and it was making me extremely uncomfortable.
"Thank you so much, and again, I'm so very sorry. I'm a bit clumsy, you see-- "
It was at this time that I noticed the hand I had been holding was cold, clammy, even. It placed my second book in my possession.
I slowly lifted my head to view the person I had so abruptly slammed into.
His hair hung loosely from his head, stringy even. It's texture was slightly greasy. His face was weathered and worn, adorned with a fair share of wrinkles.
I could see my fragile, brown eyes being reflected in his own obsidian ones, they widened in horror.
An involuntary gasp escaped my lips.
Him.
As the first waves of recognition began to pass over me, so did they through him. Awkward silence followed. He opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly closed it.
Waves of nausea flooded through my body, and my eyes began to water against my will and good judgment.
During my time in Azkaban, I became well-acquainted with all my horrible memories. Yet, there was one in particular that continued to play over and over within my mind. I was left alone with it many a day, it and it alone. It played through my head like a movie, and there was no escaping it.
Umbridge had been right, forcing someone to relive a painful memory was horrible, inexcusable by the standards of the Ministry of Magic. I had come to know why all to well during my stay in Azkaban. The constant recollection was painful and, as memory's go, he was the primary ringleader of this one.
"Lucinda…." My name left his lips softly. There was something in his tone, a feeling I could not quite place. His hand remained on my own, still securing the book in its place in my arms.
I wanted to say something back to him, yet I found that I was paralyzed, mind, body, and soul.
"I…I trust you…remember where the Great Hall is? You…wouldn't wish to be…late…"
We stayed like this in silence for moments more, and it seemed as though neither of us would budge.
The sound of large doors being swung open suddenly reached my ears, and I heard a shrill voice call my name in adoration.
"Lucinda! Lucinda my dear! How I've missed you so!" A strawberry blonde woman of strange dress appeared in my vision, hurrying towards me, a happy expression playing on her awkward features. Sibyll Trelawney….
When she saw whom it was that I was standing with, she placed a protective arm around my shoulders, scowling at the man before me.
"Lucinda, it's lovely to see you." Her voice had become monotonous, all attempts at conversation in front of this man were forced. "Come, the ceremonies will be starting soon, and you simply must tell me what you've been doing with yourself over the years." Her arm around my shoulder tightened, her scowl ever deepening, wrinkling her face into something strange and even more unrecognizable.
The awkwardness was well into full swing now.
In a flash, he abruptly withdrew himself, turning on a dime and, at an accelerated pace, he made his way thought the doors through which Sibyll had just come.
When he was gone, her hold over me softened into a friendly embrace.
"There, there, dear. I'm terribly sorry you had to see him so soon. The bastard." she spat.
She was right. Never in a million years had I ever hoped to see Severus Snape so soon.
A/N
So that was the Prologue... Please tell me what you think. There's a lot more to come. I think that this might end up being the longest story I've ever constructed.
Please Review. Let me know if I should continue.