Chapter Three: Time and Time Again
Cold being so often an adjective used to describe him, Severus was hardly surprised when a variation of his much-hated nickname turned up along the same theme.
"Hey, Shiverus! Still too scrawny to hold any heat, eh?" The voice was a familiar one, and a well-despised one at that.
"Ah, it seems I am to be blessed with the company of my two most steadfast detractors. Couldn't come up with anything more original to celebrate the occasion, I see."
A confused look sprang onto James Potter's face. "Occasion? Which one?"
"The day I finally rid myself of your incessant badgering," snarled Severus, almost daring Potter to hex him.
"What, have you got a new trick up your sleeve? Must be easy to fit, your arms being as skinny as they are! You're practically swimming in your robes!" sneered Sirius Black, walking up behind Potter.
"The pinnacle of humor, Black: mock someone's appearance when their mental capacities exceed your own by too great a distance to ridicule them without insulting yourself." Severus waited for this to sink in, but the expression on Black's face when it finally did was priceless. "I see by your ire that my statement was correct. By the way, your laughable attempt at a jibe was hardly coherent-as you're by no means lacking in practice, I must attribute this to a lacking of certain, ahem, other faculties." Pointedly, Severus tapped his forehead and looked condescendingly at the infuriated Gryffindors in front of him.
Potter shot a murderous glare at Severus, turning to Black and muttering something under his breath. Probably another plot to ambush me and string me up in front of the school. "Shall I leave, then, and let the two of you get back to discussing these...sensitive matters?"
Black smiled maliciously. "Oh no, Shiverus, this is something your presence is definitely needed for." Severus guessed that correcting Black's dangling participle would not be the smartest move, and instead slipped his wand into his hand, keeping it for the moment concealed by his sleeve.
Black's cry of "Petrificus Totalus!" did not surprise Severus in the least, and he easily evaded the spell. The initiation of the fight now rested squarely in his opponent's camp, so he was free to unleash some hexes of his own.
But he didn't get the chance. Potter had stepped behind him and shot off an exaggeratedly loud "Expelliarmus!", and Severus whirled around to defend himself, but Black used that opportunity to try his curse again. Another shout from Black and Severus was on the ground, unable to move.
He did his best to hide his rapidly mounting fear from his assailants, and tried to keep what he hoped was a defiant glint in his eyes as they approached. "Scared, Shiverus? Good, you should be." It's no use, they can see right through me, he thought, and his pulse began to pound in his ears.
"You know, Prongs," leered Black, "it's a pretty frigid day outside. Let's drag Shiverus to a nice, secluded spot and see how long he lasts before the cold keeps him Petrified for us." Severus's heart missed a beat.
"Oh, that's so boring, Padfoot, I'm sure there's something more inventive we can do! Say, there's a nice spot on the Quidditch field that I always felt was lacking a little...decoration. How about we strip him and leave him there until the match at five?" Black grinned at the suggestion.
"Even better since today's Gryffindor and Slytherin. Just wait until the fans get an eyeful of him!"
Severus remembered that it was only four o'clock. That meant at least an hour that he'd be on the Quidditch field, utterly exposed to the elements. He was unsure he could endure that. This can't be happening. There has to be some way out! Think, Severus, think...! But there was nothing he could do. Totally immobile, flat on the ground, he was truly at the mercy of his tormentors, and he was certain that mercy was not something they possessed.
Then someone began shouting. As the sound got closer, Severus managed to see that it was Lupin who was running up. Lupin, the prefect. Lupin, the werewolf, who also happened to be a friend of Severus's captors.
"What's going on here?" demanded Lupin, giving Severus a disapproving once-over before turning to glare at Black and Potter.
"Just a bit of fun, Moony, that's all," Black drawled. "We've got a surprise planned for the Quidditch game, and Shiverus here is gonna help us out with that."
As Lupin looked at Severus again, Severus let the fear he was feeling show in his eyes. Help me! he thought, and he would have screamed it if he could. Thankfully, Lupin seemed to notice his efforts, because he addressed his friends with an authoritative tone. "I can't allow that. It's almost time for the game, anyway, so let's come along." Both other Gryffindors gaped at Lupin for saying this, almost as if it was some sort of heresy.
"Oh, come on, Moony!" whimpered Potter. "Ever since you've been a Prefect you're always stopping our fun. What's gotten into you?"
"What's gotten into you, more like, endangering a student like this," snapped Lupin. "I don't know how I ever went along with you before. Now get a move on, or I'll take some points from Gryffindor!" Black turned and stalked off, but as James left, he threw a triumphant glance over his shoulder at Severus. Lupin had neglected to set him free.
Then the wind began to pick up. Well, I suppose it could have been worse, thought Severus angrily, as his hair blew into his face, but that bastard Lupin knew, he knew I was still Petrified! And he just walked off, with the lot of them! Scum. Worse than scum is what they are. Severus began to shiver. It was starkly empty in the courtyard, and he wondered why nobody had happened to wander by. Surely someone is going to come this way soon. It's usually fairly busy here. Then he recalled the Quidditch game.
Everyone's gone to watch the game. There won't be anyone coming this way for another few hours, at best. Severus felt like he was being crushed with hopelessness. Is this it, then? Am I going to die? Or maybe I'll just lose my extremities to frostbite. I'll hardly be uglier then than now. As if to underscore his point, it began to snow.
Laying on the ground, alone in the courtyard, Severus was battered by gusts of wind that ripped through his clothes and stole any semblance of warmth his thin body may have produced. The snow continued to fall, albeit slowly. It could hardly have been ten minutes and his hands were already losing feeling.
Curse those arrogant, idiot Gryffindors! Supposed to be brave, but they have to paralyze me before they're willing to fight, Severus raved inwardly, hoping his anger would help keep him going. Ha! I could beat those useless fools with my eyes closed!
Then why didn't I? The unbidden thought brought his inner tirade to a screeching halt.
Actually, if I'm so much stronger than them, so much better than them, why do I always end up like this? Severus had no answer.
Aren't I supposed to be smart? Aren't I more skilled than them at Potions, at spells and at hexes? I should have everything to my advantage. Why is it always me that loses?
Maybe they're some kind of higher caliber...but no, that can't be true. Being pureblooded doesn't make a difference. My grades could show you that. Then...
Maybe I'm just too weak.
They always come at me at least two-on-one. I'm strong enough to beat one of them, and they know it. They have to outnumber me to get an advantage, because I...
I'm...always alone. Severus felt a stab of pain through his stomach at the thought. It distracted him from his aching limbs.
I have to get stronger than both of them. I have to be able to take on anyone on my own. I can't rely on other people; I've been shown time and time again that when it comes to it, there's no one by my side.
I have to get stronger...
Severus was beginning to have trouble seeing when the sound of crunching snow shook him awake a little more. What...is someone coming? Then he saw the familiar red hair, and the green eyes brimming with angry tears.
"Sev! Oh my...I can't believe they've done this to you! Sev!" cried Lily, frantically brushing the snow off of Severus's motionless body. "Finite Incantanem!"
She scooped her arms under him and lifted him up. "How long have you been out here?" He shook his head.
"I... don't know...long time," he slurred, unable to speak clearly. "Thought...was gonna...be the end..."
Then he couldn't see anything.
Severus woke up in a rather comforatble bed, and a very warm one indeed. It took him a moment to realize that Madam Pomfrey was sitting next to him.
"Ah, I see you've woken up, Severus. How are you feeling?" she asked softly.
"I...alright, I suppose. What exactly happened? How did I...I don't recall..." He trailed off.
"Wondering how you got here? I wouldn't expext you to remember. You were in a bad way yesterday, my boy, a bad way. Unconscious from the cold. Then Professor McGonagall brought you in here, and was she fuming! Worried sick over you and yelling all the while about how those two tramps, Black and Potter, had taken it too far." Madam Pomfrey smiled at the recollection, but Severus was confused.
"Professor McGonagall brought me here?"
"Yes, that's what I said," answered Madam Pomfrey, puzzled. "Why do you ask?"
"I thought...Lily..." Nothing made sense. Didn't Lily find me yesterday? Madam Pomfrey's response came through in a blur. "No, Severus, Lily was watching the Quidditch game. Cheering heartily for Gryffindor, I might add! That one was never lacking in spirit. It was a lucky break that Professor McGonagall caught wind of Sirius Black complaining that someone had spoiled their 'plans'. She managed to get it out of him and came running like mad to find you."
"But..." protested Severus. Then, that means...I only imagined Lily? Here I'd thought that maybe she'd forgiven me, that maybe she cared after all. And I'm told I imagined the whole thing. What a pitiful, stupid idiot I am! I've reached a new low. Imagining somebody cares-imagining that she would care! To his utter horror, he felt tears begin to fill his eyes.
To make matters even worse, and that was quite a feat, Madam Pomfrey noticed. "I know, it's a scary thing what happened to you. Good that you're lettin' it out like you are."
Severus burned with embarrassment. "Could you...please give me a moment alone?" he managed, and to his relief Madam Pomfrey obliged, looking at him with both pity and understanding as she left.
Alone now, Severus began to cry in earnest. It had been a long while since he last let himself do so. The last time was after his fight with Lily.
He remembered walking, dazed, back to his dormitory and falling onto the bed wondering what had happened. He thought it was a dream. When he realized that he would likely never exchange a kind word with Lily again, Severus had curled up into a tiny ball of anguish and pain and cried.
It was several hours before he was through. After that, he promised himself he would be tougher. Stronger. Less breakable. And he had done well with that; Severus learned how to disconnect from situations that had the potential to matter to him. When things mattered, they could hurt, and when things hurt, then you were weak.
But trauma had a way of undoing his best-laid plans, and now he was sobbing, alone and frightened that he had almost died yet again. That made twice that he'd nearly been killed by the "mischief" of Potter and Black.
What frightened him most is that no one had come to help him-until the person who put him in danger had unwillingly informed a teacher. A teacher, who was bound to help, as it was her responsibility, but who nevertheless had not noticed his absence.
No one had noticed. And it scared Severus.
What if something like this happens again? Where will I be then? The uncertainty settled in his stomach like a stone.
I can't let it happen. I've got to be stronger.
Just enough to keep myself safe, that's all. And Severus fell into an uneasy sleep.
•••••
Snape awoke in that same room. A candle flickered somewhere off to his right, and this time it was Dumbledore sitting there beside him.
"Severus," began Dumbledore, but Snape was sitting up, disconcerted that he had been moved without his knowledge. He paused. Had he moved? Come to think of it, he couldn't remember. He thought he remembered being very cold, and something about McGonagall. Through the window he could see that it was quite dark outside.
His head began to swim. Apparently sitting up had not been a smart move.
Snape registered Dumbledore's voice, repeating his name in an effort, Snape imagined, to get his attention. It wasn't going to work, of course, because Snape couldn't see anything anymore.
Then, darkness. Familiar. Warm.
