Chapter One: Reminiscing

Frost crept up the cold stone, unnoticeable in the dim light. The whole room was dim, in fact, as its only light emanated from a struggling fire. Though small, the feeble flames sent tongues of warmth into the dungeon, just far enough to make conditions tolerable for the man sitting nearby. They did not reach the icy patterns that winter was tracing onto the wall.

With a shiver, the man rose from his seat and placed several papers on his desk. As yet, they were untouched. He had made no progress. This fact nettled him, because he was normally rather efficient when it came to grading, and there was no apparent reason for the delay.

Really, what's gotten into me? Here I am, putting off work as though I was one of the idiots I have to teach. After a moment of thought, he realized this had never happened to him before. That only makes this whole situation more confusing. What's causing this unusual sluggishness?

There was no point in trying to convince himself that it was due to the cold--he had experienced much worse before--and after what must have been another half hour of simply standing in puzzlement, Severus Snape decided that action was in order. Wrapping himself in a cloak, he strode through the castle and out onto the grounds, which were covered by a magnificent coating of as yet unmarred snow.

The sheer frigidity of the air was somewhat of a shock to Snape's system. Though his quarters could hardly be described as warm, they apparently held off some of the biting cold. But it was too late to abandon the walk, and so he continued slowly making his way through the snow, not quite sure of where he was going.

As a matter of fact, he thought, this whole day has been somewhat of a blur. What exactly have I been doing for the past several hours, aside from sitting uselessly in my quarters?

Try as he might to recall it, the answer ecaped him, and his head was beginning to hurt. Snape was forced to admit defeat--temporarily, of course, for losing was distasteful, even against himself, and he wanted it rectified as soon as possible.

Only once he stopped thinking did Snape realize how silent it was. The crunch of snow under his freezing feet was the only sound that broke the absolute stillness. The prospect of total quiet was a welcome one for him; Snape was all too used to the constant ruckus produced by his Potions students. Dimwits, the lot of them.

Snape gingerly brushed the snow off of a boulder near him and sat down. Without his footsteps, it was completely silent. He noticed his breathing, expelling puffs of cloud into the clear air, was coming rather heavily, and again he did not know why. He chose to ignore it, instead looking around him at the glittering scenery.

Was it ever this beautiful at home? The unwelcome thought surprised Snape. Why ruin things by thinking of home? But strangely, he found that he was not bothered by the subject as he usually was. Today was certainly an abnormal day. Snape settled on the answer that no, it had never been quite this lovely at Spinner's End.

The only time it might have come close was that January morning. Snape found himself thinking of it without any pain, and he allowed the well-buried memories of that day to uncover themselves.

•••••

He woke up early that day, the cold jostling him to alertness even through his blanket. Severus wondered what time it was.

When he peered through the frost-coated window and saw that the sun had still not risen, Severus sat down on his cot again and endeavored to fall back asleep. He knew it was pointless. The same thing had happened yesterday, and as a matter of fact, the past few days before that, too.

Last night had been a particularly rough one. His father had banged open the door at nearly one in the morning, covered in snow and completely drunk. Severus had been in the kitchen.

His mother tried to shepherd Tobias inside, but he was having none of it, slamming her against the wall with his arm. "Where's my boy?!" he screamed, irate. "He needs t' learn how t' take the cold like a man!"

Severus rose, trembling, from his seat by the stove. He'd been trying to warm himself for the past hour, but his feeble frame couldn't hold any heat. As soon as he stood, he began to shiver violently. It was partly out of fear. He hoped his father wouldn't notice.

When Tobias spied him coming out of the kitchen, he stormed toward Severus and grabbed him roughly by the wrist. "Think the stove's a good way to keep warm, boy? That's whatcha been doin', ain't it?" His voice set alarm bells ringing in Severus's mind, but he had no choice but to answer honestly.

"Y-yes...sir..." he stammered. Cursing his inability to speak clearly, he braced himself for the blow.

Toby whipped his left hand around and slammed it into Severus's stomach. "That's whatcha get fer actin' like a weaklin'! I ain't havin' no son o' mine be a sissy! Bad enough ya got t' have a name like Sev'rus, now yer all atremble like a leaf in th' wind. I'll show ya how t' be a man!"

He dragged the terrified Severus outside and threw him into the snow. "Now ye'll stay there 'till I see fit t' letcha in! If I find ye've moved, there's a beatin' in store fer ya, boy!" Tobias glared at his son and slammed the door.

Already, Severus's thin body was wracked with the cold. He wondered how long his father planned to leave him out here, and compared that to how long he thought he could survive. He was unsure of which was longer.

The walls of his house were thin enough to let the sounds produced inside reach Severus, and so he listened with a strange detachment to his mother's pleas to "let the poor child back inside! He can hardly manage to stay warm in the house--you're giving your son a death sentence, Toby!" He also heard her screams as his father beat her so that she "wouldn't int'rfere with a man's job!" Severus thought he would be happy to be a woman if he could avoid the man's jobs his father talked about. They were never pleasant.

As his arms and legs began to grow numb, Severus counted the windows on all the houses he could see. There weren't many; the night was dark. Then he counted the footprints in the snow near him, which kept his mind working for a while. Then his thoughts began to slow. He was very tired.

He was unaware of when it happened, but Severus realized that the screaming and thudding had stopped. His father must have passed out or fallen asleep, and that meant...he was reluctant to get his hopes up, but maybe his mother would be coming out soon. How long is "soon"? he wondered. He didn't know.

Severus struggled to stay awake, counting the times he blinked, losing count, and starting over in an effort to keep his mind active. Some part of him knew that he could not fall asleep. But the world was so dark and still, and sleep so enticing and warm, that Severus was fast losing his fight against the cold.

Suddenly, a slender ray of yellow light peeked through the door of his house and onto the snow. Severus vaguely registered his mother lifting him from the snow. Was she crying? She was warm.

Then he was inside--his room, it must be--and she was holding him tightly, rocking back and forth and whispering to him. Severus's brain began to thaw.

He asked her how long he was outside. Two and a half hours, she said, and he noticed she was, in fact, crying. He tried to apologize for making her cry, but it apparently was the wrong thing to say because she only started crying more. Severus hugged her tightly and hoped he could make things better. He had never managed to before.

"I thought I had lost you," his mother said softly. "My precious Severus, I thought you were gone..." Severus realized that he very nearly had been.

Then she had left him and had gone to bed, so he had wrapped himself in his blanket and managed to fall asleep.

That was last night. Severus noticed that he was shaking at the recollection. Somehow, the morning made the ordeal of last night seem more real, more dangerous than it had seemed at the time. I very nearly died, he thought, I was at death's door. Have I ever been that close before? He had not. Maybe I should have taken the chance when I had it. It wouldn't have been very painful. But then Severus thought of his mother and how she had been crying for him, for fear of losing him, and he forgave himself the lost opportunity. It would have been painful for his mother, after all, and he didn't want to hurt her.

Severus noticed that the sun had begun peeking through his window. He straightened up his room, tried to neaten his clothes a bit, and snuck down the stairs into the kitchen. They were almost out of food, so he restrained himself to one piece of bread and, after considering it briefly, an apple. He owed himself the treat, he thought--it was his birthday, after all.

It was also the day that he would meet with Lily. The thought put a smile on his face. Severus wondered if she knew it was his birthday, or how old he was. He resolved not to be disappointed if she didn't, even though he'd known both her birthday and her age for a while. He'd learned long ago not to expect people to remember things about him--any good things, that is. People had a peculiar way of remembering the worst about him. Severus tried not to mind it much, and he was getting better at not caring.

He ate breakfast hurriedly, the thought of meeting Lily putting an excited urgency into his morning. But as he dashed out the door, he was reminded of how bitterly cold it was. Severus stopped abruptly. Perhaps it was too cold. She might just stay inside today. His pace slowed at that, and he was a little more subdued. It's not wise to get my hopes up like this. I should be more careful. Nevertheless, Severus hoped fervently that Lily would brave the cold temperatures to come meet him anyway; their meeting was going to be his only birthday present.

His heart pounded as he neared the tree, their standard meeting place. He saw no one there. No footprints leading to it. It's a wide tree; maybe she's on the other side and I just can't see her yet! But as Severus reached it, his heart sank. Lily wasn't there.

Feebly he tried to encourage himself, thinking, Well, maybe she is coming, just a bit later. Maybe she's on her way now. But the words sounded empty to him. Stupid, stupid Severus! he berated himself, struggling not to cry. How could he have been so foolish?

Then someone coughed behind him.