Chapter One

The breeze was playful, playfully tugging at her cloak of emerald, playfully tugging at the long strands of hair that framed her face, as she stood staring over the darkened edge of the cliff. Her body trembled with a paralyzing fear as she stared before her, not daring to look down, her throat dry, her stomach aflutter. As she slowly fills her lungs with the rich scents of life, she feels the longing echoing from her within.

Can I hold you?

It is as if her arm has become nothing more than an eternal throbbing of her pulse, sticky with drying blood.

Can I know you?

Time is standing still for this moment alone. Her heavy-lashed lids closing down, the darkness filling, pooling inside her very being. As if she is forced, her bare foot, covered with lacerations, moves hesitantly forward. She feels the tightly packed earth beneath her toes, the small stones and bits of sand like hot coals on the wounds.

These words that have this power over me.

She raises her face to the full moon; her mouth opens as if gasping in awe of the beauty she sees, but no words. Only a slight choking as damaged vocal chords beg to remember what they once were. Her eyes become mournful, as she inhales one last time, the heady scent of trees and the violets.

Then the sudden rush of thick winds all around her, the freedom, the absolute joy of freedom, and a tortured scream echoing faintly in the back of her mind.

With a strangled cry, he tore awake, tangled in a mass of sheets and limbs, sweat drenching his thin frame. Gasping for air, he lay still, his eyes rolling about wildly. He was alone, safe in his bed, alone. It felt as if his heart would burst from its prison, the pounding so great. His throat was dry as a desert, and he felt sick to his stomach. Slowly, worn hands shaking, he grasped at the goblet of water always by his bedside. It dribbled down his chin as he gulped; wishing for the water to wash away the memories, the pain, as swiftly as it washed away his thirst. But nothing could make this pain go away, the memories would haunt him a lifetime and more than likely, beyond. He could feel tears sliding down his cheeks; biting his lower lip, he inhaled deeply, eyelids pressed tightly together, willing it to stop. He could smell the sweat, and the cool night air, the clean water on his chin, the salt of his tears, and ---

His eyes broke open, tearing the room apart in panic. He knew he smelled violetsit was impossible. There were no violets in his room. He had made sure of that. Never, when this time of year came round, never. With the dry sobs of a shattered man, he clutched his face in his hands and spoke in a frightening whisper.

"Help me"

"Lovely evening, isn't it Severus?" Headmaster Dumbledore's voice was soothing as he and Professor Snape gazed at the evening sky.

The day you died I lost my way.

"Yes—yes, of course, Professor." Severus Snape felt himself jerked from his reverie, hastily scrambling to form the words he now spoke in a tumble. Dumbledore seemed to not notice as his clear blue eyes flicked momentarily to Severus' troubled features.

The day you died I lost my mind.

"It seems as if this time of year always brings an essence of nostalgia with it, doesn't it?" Severus found his brow furrowing in puzzlement, as Professor Dumbledore continued, "The changing of the seasons, I mean. The eloquent death of nature, giving to the harsh of winter, and finally being reborn in a moment of glory. These darkened times give us more than necessary the loneliest of hours to contemplate our darkest of moments. Our most painful and repressed times." Dumbledore gave a long, wistful sigh, "I do fear that the times to come will only bring with them more memories to reencounter during these seasons, that they will bring even more pain than any shall be able to shoulder the burden of carrying." A pause.

Severus shifted uncomfortably upon his feet, suddenly aware of the heaviness of his robes, the tightness of his boots, the difficulty of swallowing with his collar buttoned. Timidly, he cleared his throat, gazing at a particularly bright star in the velvet blue of the night sky.

Smiling in his gentle way, Dumbledore turned to the dark man beside him. He stood stoic and stiff, carrying the pain of many trials in the lines about his thin mouth. His sallow skin reflecting the deep self-loathing he harbored within. Warm brown eyes reduced to empty pools of ice, thick brows furrowed in eternal suspicion; long black hair unkempt and greasy. Dumbledore felt the sorrow for this man that he had felt only a few short years ago when he first took him into his care.

"The first years should be arriving at any moment," Severus murmured, an attempt at a lighter fare of discussion.

"We should see them breaking the horizon any moment now." Dumbledore turned watchful eyes upon the vast rippling ebony before him, choosing his words carefully, "I will need you to greet our guests before the first years have a chance to make their acquaintance." He heard the sharp intake of breath beside him.

"Me?" he hissed, turning suddenly stunned eyes upon Dumbledore. The elder man's smile broadened, but he did not return Severus' shocked stare.

"Of course. I trust you to make them feel welcome, Professor Snape. They will be ..a bit weary from their journey. It is a taxing one, to travel across the sea by broomstick."

"But Headmaster, do you think it wise to entrust me with such an important---"

"I would not have asked if I did not foresee some grain of wisdom within." His reply reassured and silenced the younger man, who straightened visibly, plucking at his obsidian robes nervously.

"I suppose that I should meet them now?" his candor was stiff, the old, familiar mask sliding itself comfortably into place. He would be strong; he would not let Professor Dumbledore down.

Dumbledore felt a sting of regret as he sensed the familiar sharpness return to Severus' voice. He could feel him retreating far away inside himself.

"Yes, of course Professor. They should be landing on the Quidditch field. Only a few to be sure. I was told only twelve chaperones were accompanying them." With a nod from his dark head, Severus whirled away, slipping into the darkness of the night. Dumbledore sighed deeply, hesitating only a moment before turning as well, returning to the warmth and light of the castle of whose balcony he had been standing. As velvet blue met shining black, a small boat breached their meeting, a tiny bulb of gold leading the way for more.

Severus strode down the dew slick hill towards the enormous sea of green that was the Quidditch field. He could already see dark forms milling in a pathetic huddle, swearing sharply beneath his breath he quickened his pace, Dumbledore's words overpowering his thoughts. He was right; this time of the year always brought the pain of things best forgotten. Things best repressed in the darkest closets of your mind, where your heart could not hear their whimpers and screams. Drawing his wand, the wood comforting in his calloused palms, he uttered "Lumos" and raised the beam of white light above his head, casting bizarre, contorted features across the faces of the guests.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Severus Snape, Headmaster Dumbledore sent me to collect you and to bring you back to the castle." The children looked aged beyond their years, dark circles hovering beneath their eyes, broomsticks clutched by white-knuckled hands, as they stared listlessly back at him. The chaperones were bedraggled, their faces drawn impassively. Snape felt a pang of pity so great he forced himself to look towards the skies, "How many more?" the words seemed sharp upon his tongue.

"Two more groups." A woman spoke from the back, her voice beyond exhausted. Severus nodded curtly, and kept his eyes locked upon the now black sky, the moon slipping behind foreboding clouds. The occasional whispered word of comfort, a noise as someone shifted uncomfortably, while time passed agonizingly slow. His dark eyes squinted as he peered into the inky sky. Finally there was something moving, and it was coming ever closer.

It was as if a vacuum had opened in the night, as noise became form, several broomsticks landing on the field brusquely. A tall woman dismounted first, her figure like an overly stuffed pillow on thick sausages, as she came into the light. Severus was taken aback slightly as he saw her face was caked with thick white make-up, and gaudy red lipstick. The light repelled off what must have been a wig of golden blonde piled high atop her head. He blinked several times, eyes adjusting to the sight before him.

"Mildred Belle, it is a delight to meet you." Her thick southern accent seemed to pour from those striking lips, hand pumping his energetically. Severus felt himself involuntarily jerk away, and instantly regretted it. A flicker of hurt flashed across the woman's colorful features before melting away into a new mask, lips pursed tightly together, hands clasped at her enormous bosom.

"A pleasure as well, Professor Belle. I am Professor Severus Snape and am acting on behalf of Headmaster Dumbledore in greeting and escorting all of you to the castle." The golden head bobbed respectfully, breaking into a wide smile at the mention of the kindly headmaster.

"Ah, Albie! He is such a wonderful man! Don't you think so dears?" she turned towards the bedraggled group behind her, several nodding politely, "Awfully kind of him to take us in on such short notice," she whispered conspiratorially to Severus, "considering how times are now." The tall man nodded, face upturned towards the now naked moon.

"Isn't a third party supposed to be arriving as well?" the words were cold.

"Yes, they were right behind us last I checked. Should be here any mo—AH! Here they are now!" several more dark forms swooped into the stadium, one form circling overhead like a large bird of prey, as the smaller figures landed in pairs. Clearing his throat authoritively; noting the cool breeze picking up, as the guests greeted one another; voices hushed, he turned to them.

Lifting a pale hand, "Welcome. As I spoke earlier, I am Professor Severus Snape. If you would, please follow me." And then, swiftly, his feet led him away. A momentary scuffle incurred behind him, as several hitched up their robes and scrambled after. They were an unusually solemn group entering the castle, shivering a bit as the heat blasted their numbed bodies. Severus strode down corridors confidently, never glancing back, until he reached the large, oaken doors of the Great Hall, where a woman of imperial stature stood, her long black hair pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck, eyes glittering. A small group of terrified eleven year olds huddled about her. Her mouth lifted slightly as Severus approached.

"Professor Snape."

"Professor McGonagall. These are our guests for this evening." With an elegant wave of his hand towards the crowd gathering slowly behind him, he turned his dark head ever so slightly towards the first years, and several eyes widened in fright.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." Professor McGonagall's voice was unmistakably warm, before she turned towards the doors that had swung open. Severus' eyes lingered a moment as the first years filed in, then turned one last time towards the group behind him.

"There is a table for all of you, if you would follow me." The Great Hall was magnificent, even in this time of mourning. Black hung from the walls, but the plates were still glittering beside their golden goblets, the sky was twinkling merrily above and warmth enveloped them. It was as if a huge boulder had been lifted from his chest, the moment he set foot in the hall. The tables for the four houses of Hogwarts were mostly filled. Slytherin, his house, was unmistakably near empty. A pale-faced boy smiled nastily from the table, his white blonde hair shining brightly in the candlelight. Severus gave him a curt nod as he ascended the staff table, and took his seat quietly, his roving eye catching sight of several red heads shining from Gryffindor table, and Harry Potter, the young wizarding hero, green eyes snapping back at Severus from his seat. His dark head was more unkempt and wild than ever, his defiant attitude reeking about him like pungent garlic. Severus looked away, a brief glimmer of anger sparking inside. The sorting would mercifully be swift this year, due to the small numbers.

As always, McGonagall placed the patched remains of a hat upon an equally worn stool, and the timid first years sat quaking, waiting to be sorted into one of the four houses. Severus felt his eyes wander listlessly around the Great Hall as a sonorous song filled their ears:

In times of happiness and times of greed

It will be time to learn something

The guests were most curious and he found his roving eyes drawn to them time and time again. They all wore different colored cloaks and robes, their school crests sewn over the left breast. His gave rested for a moment on a group of three women, sitting next to one another conversing in low tones.

I'll look inside and I will see

Yet I'm an old hat—or so it seems

Long, chocolate curls cascaded over a rich blue cloak, red murmuring in their depths. Clear blue eyes wide, as a set of full lips spoke to a similarly built woman, thin hands absently toying with a shining curl. A pair of brown eyes met the blue, as thinner lips hesitated and spoke, golden yellow robes accenting the blonde in pale brown waves of hair, faint curls coiling at the end. With a slight movement of bird-like arms, she revealed the striking red of the innards of her cloak.

I'll read your mind; I'll see your heart

I'll tell you just the place to start

His gaze faltered a moment, green eyes fixed upon him, a gaze of depth penetrating his bones. He felt a sight shiver descend his spine to his empty stomach, as her thick lashed eyes blinked only a moment, and suddenly the enchantment broke. An involuntary gasp of air escaped his pained lungs, eyes narrowing in an intense study.

It won't be far, it will be near

In fact, it will even be right here

She was now uttering to the blue-eyed one, who fastened a suspicious glare upon Severus. His gaze never wavering, he returned the stare, and another, slight chill raised the delicate hairs on his neck. The women gazed at him a moment, green eyes overshadowed by slightly thick brows furrowing together in concentration. A slight puff of air escaped full lips and lifted chestnut brown bangs from her olive forehead.

In Gryffindor, with courageous ones,

Or Hufflepuff, whose work is their fun,

Her cloak was a rich green, with a midnight blue lining, and the robes she wore beneath a dark forest green. A glimmer of pink caught his eye and he realized that all the guests wore satin sashes of red or pink.

Maybe Ravenclaw, to use your mind

Or Even Slytherin, to rise and climb

It felt as if a hand were closing about his throat, as sharp stabs filled his chest. Pressing red-rimmed lids closed, he clutched the walnut wood of the table tightly in his hands. It was smooth, with a faint echo if the rich grain texture it had once had. The knots and knife cuts like a map as calloused fingertips traced along them.

Breathe, damn it. Breathe.

Courage, Loyalty, Intellect or Ambition,

I will figure your true mission

A warm palm was placed about his sinewy wrist, squeezing comfortingly. Eyes flinging open, head slowly turning, Severus found no one there, only an empty chair. His blood turned ice cold.

All you have, but one you prize

So put me on, and open your eyes

"Addell, Cecilia." McGonagall's strong voice allowed the reverie to break, and once again, dark eyes were placed on the sorting.

"RAVENCLAW!" A brief round of applause.

"Montgomery, Mort."

"SLYTHERIN!" A twinge of hope, as the remaining Slytherins welcomed the skinny creature. The sorting seemed to fly by in an instant.

"Zemi, Tawanda" And was thus finished—"HUFFLEPUFF!" He felt the thick tension settle like a blanket over the hall. All faces turned blankly towards the guests. The professors were standing, as were the students, all lined up neatly.

"Adams, Sarah." The first to go forth was blonde, awkward like so many others her age, arms too thin, legs too long, nervous as a newborn foal. Though strong, not accepting fear as a part of her being, and sitting without a slight of hand.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

No wave of surprise flooded Severus, this girl seemed sure of herself, what with all the shining silver adorning her face. He supposed all the newcomers would be placed in Gryffindor, for surviving such terrible ordeals in the past week, for attempting a journey by broom known for its deaths rather than survivals.

Her voice tremulous, accent sharp on her tongue, the girl turned doe-like eyes upon McGonagall, "Excuse me, ma'am, but I don't know which table that is". McGonagall smiled sympathetically, and raised a stern finger towards the Gryffindors. White cloak swirling behind, the girl dashed towards and sat at the nearest open seat.

By the end, the guests were evenly placed, filling the empty seats of every table. Only their mentors remained afoot, chins raised proudly, backs straight. Dumbledore rose, catching the eye of someone, he paused, nodding graciously. Severus felt his head swivel mechanically and the green eyed woman stood, her stature petite, figure slightly curved. Her voice carried richly in the Great Hall as she spoke.

"We would, on the behalf of Evening Star School of the Magical Arts, like to thank Headmaster Dumbledore for his most gracious and welcome hospitality. We lost so much in the attack on our school, and only hope to gain in our knowledge and alliances through this change of environment. We would also like to extend our hands of friendship and our hearts to the students and faculty of Hogwarts." His hands clapping politely, eyes riveted to her as she once again met his intense gaze with an equally powerful one. As another short woman stepped forward, his dark gaze left to rest on a woman with a generously curvaceous figure, with glowing cocoa skin. Long braids ran elegantly over a blood red cloak with gold, like a river.

"We from the Quebec Wizard and Witches Academy of Eastern Canada wish to also extend our thanks, and to extend our friendship as well. Though some of us may be with the Beauxbaton Academy in our ancestral land of France," her accent certainly showed a French ancestry, but it was different. Its tone more rolling.

"We do feel," she continued "most welcome and are indeed grateful to be here at this most prestigious institution for learning." Politely bringing cold hands together again, he watched the woman regally return to her place with the others, as another came forward. It was the plump one from earlier! Severus felt himself recoil inwardly as the brighter lights of the hall only revealed more of her horrifying make up. Gold glittered from plump fingers that clutched at an orange cloak, revealing peach and yellow robes hardly hidden beneath. The same accent seemed to project itself from those red smears upon her face, "We are indeed, on behalf of the Peachtree School of Magic and Healing, most grateful for this lovely opportunity to become more close with our foreign friends, and we do hope to make life more enjoyable in these turbulent times. As we have all suffered, let us not wither away in defeat but stand together until the very noble end."

"Fine thing to say when you come from the south." The curly haired witch muttered; bright blue eyes flashing as the southern woman sent her a scathing look. Her lips curled into an unmistakable smirk as the southern woman finished, "We people of the South have a fine and noble tradition which we intend to uphold and share with our new friends, our new family, here at Hogwarts." She smiled warmly at the clapping students. Severus felt a wave of self-loathing rise like bile in his throat. How could he judge this woman on her appearance when he

"Thank you, Professor Juniper Lunar, Professor Anubis Wyne, and Professor Mildred Belle," Dumbledore's voice seemed distant, the women each bowing respectfully, ascending the staff tables. The smell of violets caught his nose and he turned to see the three witches, Juniper Lunar—green eyes, and the sisterly ones, sitting on either side.

"Now, we feast." At those words, food filled his senses, thick and rich. Raising a fork and knife expectantly, he was unnerved by a sudden blast of conversation on either side.

"Juniper Lunar, pleasure to finally speak to you."

"Willow Solaris, and this is my sister Ivy." The blue-eyed one seemed to snag Severus momentarily, her sister pursing thin lips in line of annoyance. Turning away hastily, focusing on the lamb before his knife and fork, he attempted to cut, as if nothing had occurred. With an angry snipe, "How rude!" Willow turned and was soon engrossed in a discussion on the Dittanies Professor Sprout would be introducing in class the next day. He could hear the rise and fall of Ivy's voice as she conversed with Professor Flitwick on Advanced Charms. Inwardly, his organs relaxed, mouth practically watering as the warm morsel of lamb was slowly engulfed. As he thoughtfully chewed, he was suddenly aware of the warmth radiating beside him, the carefully silenced consumption and slicing on the plate beside his. Eyes roaming to their corners, he saw Juniper gazing intently at him, as she absorbed the atmosphere around her. Her hands were small, obviously used and slightly worn, pink scars upon olive knuckles. Her hair was shorn short, slightly rough in places, as if a dagger had been taken to it.

With a slight raise of a dark brow, Severus turned his gaze fully upon her.

"Are you going to show me some consideration, or should I just chalk this experience up to you being a bastard and move on with my life?" her voice was low and steady. Sharply intaking a breathe, he regarded her snidely.

"I see the rumors about Americans being brass are true." Shoulders taken aback slightly, she leveled him with a cold, piercing stare.

"I see." Green eyes turned away, and he felt a wave of regret. They were dangerous, threatening to drown him before and now, but he yearned to gaze even---

With a mental shake, bony fingers resumed their task of cutting and serving his lips tender flesh, his mind awhirl with anything, something to distract him from the women sitting on either side.

The moon was descending when a long figure found itself gazing over the lawns, early morning dew shimmering like frost as it coated the grounds lovingly. Insomnia plaguing his soul, as he stripped from his sweat soaked clothing. He could smell the fear and bitterness sewn deep into the dark black clothe, his heart churning in sorrow. His bed no longer called, though brown eyes itched for sleep. He felt as if the world were crashing about him, and yet there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The day you died I lost my mind.

The night would give way to light, light would bring relief; sweet, tangible relief. For only in the shadows of darkness can fear overwhelm, can sorrow cloak, can pain punish your being. He would lay and watch. Watch the flickering of the flames on the walls, he would gaze at the fires burning within, he would wait for light, and for the dawn of a new day.

lyrics © Majesty by Clairvoyant and Forsaken by VNV Nation