1 JKR still don't owns these people, places etc…
Thank you so much for your reviews! They really made my day! Especially with this chapter. It's hard this fanfic business isn't it? Sometimes it pours out of you, and other times it has to be ripped out.
Laura Beth - The Eight Families thing is very important later on.
1.1 Chapter Seven
Snape dealt with the next few days in his usual way. He walked around on auto pilot and almost managed to persuade himself that nothing important had happened, that nothing had been lost.
He spent the days down in the dungeons, reading up on invulnerability potions. These had gone out of fashion in the sixteenth century, when the charm had been developed. However this charm was far less efficient than the old potions, and Snape's current project was to plough though heavy and dusty old tomes, in the hope that he could find a potion that could be adapted and used now.
This was proving to be completely unsuccessful. The old potions had vanished from use because of the ingredients they required, most relied on human blood and ingredients like balisk venom.
His suggestion that they wait until the autumn term started and then get Potter to open the Chamber and drag out the balisk corpse had been as unsuccessful as his research.
However it had been very successful in providing a distraction for him, and a reason to throw out any one who decided to visit. He did let Blackthorn stay for awhile, the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher was the only other Slytherin on the staff and tough as hell. The two men had gone round and round in circles as they tried to find new ideas, new plans. New hope. But hope seemed to be draining away, literally evaporating in the heat. Their world was descending into chaos and all they could do was attempt to dam the flood.
But here, hidden under the ground, Snape did feel moderately safe and secure. Sometimes it would occur to him that he was buried deeper than the average grave, but he would rapidly push the thought away.
The nights were harder though, but Snape did have a refuge from them. It was a prison cell. A very small, circular room, with a grate in the ceiling. Moonlight pierced through the bars, creating streaks of light that fell to the floor.
You could enter the room through a door about half way up the wall. Slippery stone steps, covered in mildew and mould, led down to the bottom. Chains, with heavy iron handcuffs, snaked up from the floor.
Snape had found this place by accident once, (it was in the Slytherin section, but not marked on maps made in the past few hundred years,) and it had become his sanctuary. It was an impossibly peaceful and quiet place, even the Bloody Baron didn't come here.
When Snape felt too much to sleep he would creep to this room.
With only a few days to go till the students arrived back, he visited the cell. He sat down by the small, stone fountain in the corner and let the water gurgle over his hot hand.
Even here the air seemed too dry. The heat seemed to filter into the room along with the moonlight. He concentrated on the water flowing between his fingers. It looked like mercury.
The soft sound of the water, and the quiet light around him began to slowly smooth his mind.
Somewhere outside a hawk cried out. A shriek that could have been pain, or could have been defiance.
Snape ran his hand across the filthy floor. This room suffered everything the elements could throw at it, rain, snow, hail… The floor was a layer of dust and decay that had built up for centuries.
He seemed to fall asleep eventually. Strange dreams seemed to flit across his eyes. He could see the shadows of flames flickering across the walls, and could hear the echoes of screams on the edge of his hearing. But the strongest sensation he felt was pressure. Like he was chained to the floor.
Snape woke as the Sun began to rise, and he shuddered at the bright light. He had never been able to find where the grate came out, but it must be somewhere on the East side of the castle, because the morning sun beams slowly filled the entire room.
He groaned and stretched. He never allowed himself to actually sleep here, but last night his body had refused to obey him. He felt even more tired than he had before, and every joint ached. He staggered to his feet and then blinked at his hand that had been lying in the fountain. It was white as paper and shrivelled up, blue veins stood out like worms under his skin.
Feeling sick and drained he made his way to his own room to sleep properly.
Thank you so much for your reviews! They really made my day! Especially with this chapter. It's hard this fanfic business isn't it? Sometimes it pours out of you, and other times it has to be ripped out.
Laura Beth - The Eight Families thing is very important later on.
1.1 Chapter Seven
Snape dealt with the next few days in his usual way. He walked around on auto pilot and almost managed to persuade himself that nothing important had happened, that nothing had been lost.
He spent the days down in the dungeons, reading up on invulnerability potions. These had gone out of fashion in the sixteenth century, when the charm had been developed. However this charm was far less efficient than the old potions, and Snape's current project was to plough though heavy and dusty old tomes, in the hope that he could find a potion that could be adapted and used now.
This was proving to be completely unsuccessful. The old potions had vanished from use because of the ingredients they required, most relied on human blood and ingredients like balisk venom.
His suggestion that they wait until the autumn term started and then get Potter to open the Chamber and drag out the balisk corpse had been as unsuccessful as his research.
However it had been very successful in providing a distraction for him, and a reason to throw out any one who decided to visit. He did let Blackthorn stay for awhile, the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher was the only other Slytherin on the staff and tough as hell. The two men had gone round and round in circles as they tried to find new ideas, new plans. New hope. But hope seemed to be draining away, literally evaporating in the heat. Their world was descending into chaos and all they could do was attempt to dam the flood.
But here, hidden under the ground, Snape did feel moderately safe and secure. Sometimes it would occur to him that he was buried deeper than the average grave, but he would rapidly push the thought away.
The nights were harder though, but Snape did have a refuge from them. It was a prison cell. A very small, circular room, with a grate in the ceiling. Moonlight pierced through the bars, creating streaks of light that fell to the floor.
You could enter the room through a door about half way up the wall. Slippery stone steps, covered in mildew and mould, led down to the bottom. Chains, with heavy iron handcuffs, snaked up from the floor.
Snape had found this place by accident once, (it was in the Slytherin section, but not marked on maps made in the past few hundred years,) and it had become his sanctuary. It was an impossibly peaceful and quiet place, even the Bloody Baron didn't come here.
When Snape felt too much to sleep he would creep to this room.
With only a few days to go till the students arrived back, he visited the cell. He sat down by the small, stone fountain in the corner and let the water gurgle over his hot hand.
Even here the air seemed too dry. The heat seemed to filter into the room along with the moonlight. He concentrated on the water flowing between his fingers. It looked like mercury.
The soft sound of the water, and the quiet light around him began to slowly smooth his mind.
Somewhere outside a hawk cried out. A shriek that could have been pain, or could have been defiance.
Snape ran his hand across the filthy floor. This room suffered everything the elements could throw at it, rain, snow, hail… The floor was a layer of dust and decay that had built up for centuries.
He seemed to fall asleep eventually. Strange dreams seemed to flit across his eyes. He could see the shadows of flames flickering across the walls, and could hear the echoes of screams on the edge of his hearing. But the strongest sensation he felt was pressure. Like he was chained to the floor.
Snape woke as the Sun began to rise, and he shuddered at the bright light. He had never been able to find where the grate came out, but it must be somewhere on the East side of the castle, because the morning sun beams slowly filled the entire room.
He groaned and stretched. He never allowed himself to actually sleep here, but last night his body had refused to obey him. He felt even more tired than he had before, and every joint ached. He staggered to his feet and then blinked at his hand that had been lying in the fountain. It was white as paper and shrivelled up, blue veins stood out like worms under his skin.
Feeling sick and drained he made his way to his own room to sleep properly.
