I posted a chapter yesterday and I got 9 views on that new chapter already! I'm really very curious to see who reads a story as odd as this one and why. I would love for you to identify yourselves and I promise to answer any questions you may have.
A very long chapter for you today- triple the size of most so far! There was a giant wall of text going on and on about how misunderstood Severus is. I cut it down by half, hope it's not too boring for you still! I have tons and tons more, all in all I have 50k words written for this story but a lot of it is in the future and completely disjointed from this piece, so it might be quite a while before you see any of it. If only I could stay on one timeline for any length of time!
Enjoy! :)
I'm paralyzed. There are cold hands on my body, seeming to touch everywhere my mind is screaming for them not to. I feel pain as my legs are pulled apart viciously. I try to scream but no sound comes out of my throat, I try to move but my limbs just won't respond. Pain, sharp as a knife slices through all other sensations of cold flesh and violation...
I sit up suddenly, desperately trying to take in my surroundings. The breath I was holding rushes out of my throat all at once and I'm gulping in air. I'm in a bed. In the guest room and Harry and Professor Snape's cottage. I'm covered in bandages that Hermione helped change before I laid down for a rest.
This is real.
Still trying to catch my breath I slide out of bed and gratefully redress in the jeans and t-shirt Hermione brought for me. Downstairs, I find her and Harry immersed in a conversation. They don't notice me, so I continue down the hall and into the cellar.
Professor Snape is here as I had hoped, "Good afternoon, Professor."
"Miss Parker," he mumbles, not looking up, "You've clothed yourself more appropriately, Miss Granger I presume?"
"Yes," I say shyly, "She's very thoughtful."
"I've put your new wand and clothes in the wash closet upstairs. The wand won't be perfect, but if should suffice for the time being until you are able to obtain your own," he said.
"Thank you so much," I said honestly. I notice myself still trembling from my nightmare and cross my arms in an attempt to hide it.
"Cold, Miss Parker?" he asks.
"No," I reply, not offering the explanation.
He looks right at me with his piercing eyes, "I can add Draught of the Living Dead to the list of potions to brew without belladonna?" He's perceptive, it seems.
"You don't need to go to that trouble," I reply.
He ignores me. So I offer, "I still know my way around a mortar and pestle..."
"Good, I need 6 parts lavender and 3 snakes scales ground to a fine powder," he replies.
"Isn't thyme a better substitute for Belladonna than lavender?" I ask, taking the pestle in my hand anyway.
He shoots me a dark look, "Under most circumstances, but thyme will negate the function of the blisterthorn here," he pauses for a moment, then adds, "Although... deathbell may achieve the same effect... we'll try both and test for efficacy."
I feel proud of myself as I continue grinding.
The next few weeks pass rather quickly. I spend my mornings watching the sunrise with Harry, Severus cooks us breakfast, then I spend a few hours reading while they excuse themselves to the study, presumably to pour over maps and data pertaining to the whereabouts of rogue death eaters. They are careful not to involve me in any of that.
In the afternoons we could do any number of things. Often Harry is busy at the ministry, he acts as the messenger between he and Severus and their team. Severus will seldom ever join him and I understand there is no love lost between him and the Ministry. Harry hates them too, but he goes because at least in his case the feeling is not mutual.
I've always had a unique talent for reading people and their true intentions. Because of this I find myself wondering daily how anyone could despise Severus Snape as much as most people seem to. I understand he is surly and grumpy and mean spirited... but that's not who he is.
I see more than the mask. When Harry is gone in the afternoons I often join Severus in his potions cellar. Sometimes I help, sometimes I watch, always I learn. He likes to teach, believe it or not. He's not very quick to trust me with anything important, but gradually we get there. I see his intelligence in his eyes when we're down here, there is such a gentleness in the way he handles everything as if it's fragile. There is confidence in the gracefulness of his movements.
Other things people may not know about him in that he is self-sacrificingly generous and he truly enjoys helping people. Though he always makes it seem like a chore and insults the person he is helping mercilessly in a valiant effort to hide anything good about his character. He is fears only one thing- human connection. The most important thing to know about Severus is that he cannot see any of the good in himself. He is just as fooled as the rest of the world is into believing his is a bad person. Trying to convince him otherwise is a waste of time.
Time spent with Harry is nothing but enjoyable. He's kind and loyal. He also has a hard time seeing the good in himself. My heart aches for him sometimes as he stares off at the horizon, I can feel a heavy guilt radiating off of him. He blames himself for the majority of the deaths at the end of the war, when truly he is the hero who was ready and willing to give his life to save everyone else's. He was given a much deserved second chance to live and he truly has no idea what to do with it now that he's not part of a prophecy to save the world. I feel heartbroken that he should have had to live the life he did and deal with the obscene things that no child should have to deal with.
But he's not always reflective and sad. Most of the time he's smiling and goofing around and conspiring with me the various different ways we can mildly irritate Severus. Our conversations in the morning vary wildly from deep conversations about war and the aftermath to laughing about how little understanding most witches and wizards actually have about muggles and how they live. I know that Harry will be okay once he has enough time to find his real place in this world. I know the same thing about myself as well, but I am definitely putting off thinking about that because it would mean I would have to leave this heaven I have discovered and the angels who saved me.
This particular afternoon, I have chosen to spend in the living room with a cup of tea. I don't like to join Severus everyday because he is a very solitary creature and would probably go mad if he didn't get to spend some time by himself. I'm also slightly jittery and nervous and I really don't want to have to explain this to a grumpy man who is nearly as perceptive as I am. I'm anxious because I gave Harry permission to inform the ministry that I am alive. He is not to inform them of my whereabouts, we both agreed on that, but he may give them some vague details of the circumstances of my time as a captive and subsequent rescue.
That conversation about what details he may disclose was an awkward one, and the only time we've ever discussed it. I know I probably should... but I'm just not ready yet. The nightmares are still too intense and it still feels too real to me...
"I think it's time," I announce one evening after dinner has been cleared and we've all made out way to the living room.
"Excellent," Harry says, "Time for what exactly?"
"To inform the ministry," I say.
"Ah," he says, "I'm perfectly happy to do that for you."
"I was hoping you would say that," I tell him, "Because I really don't think I'm ready to go that far. But they should know, it would be a load off my mind, anyway."
"What will I tell them?" he asks softly.
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat, we have yet to have a single conversation about what happened to me before they found me. I've been determined all day that I am going to say it, finally.
"You may tell them I was held captive for 10 months. You may tell them I revealed no important information, not that that it was difficult to keep it to myself, they didn't want me for what I might have known- they tortured the other members of my team for that. You may tell them I was physically and sexually assaulted daily. Tortured and raped. I was humiliated and over time broken into being an obedient slave.
"You may tell them I have names: Avery, Macnair, Pettigrew, Malfoy, Nott, Yaxley, Crabbe, Rowle, Lestrange, Carrow, Dolohov, Crabbe and more often than not Voldemort was there with every single one of them. There are many more, probably as many as 50, but I have no names for the others, only faces. I do not want the ministry to know I can identify more. I will do that when I am ready. The scars on my body are proof, you've seen enough of them, you are a witness."
I'm startled from my thoughts by the sounds of the wards around the cottage chiming that a permissible individual has passed through, and I wait for the knock on the door before opening it. We weren't expecting any guests to the best of my knowledge, so I open the door expecting Hermione and instead I find a plump, jovial looking red haired woman.
"Good Afternoon!" She says pleasantly, "You must be Harry's guest I've heard so much about!"
I smile politely, she's obviously a close friend. I hold out my hand, "Ella. I'm pleased to meet you."
"Molly Weasley," she says. Of course! I think. "It's lovely to meet you dear."
"Please come in," I say with my biggest smile, gesturing her inside.
"Of course, thank you," she says and steps inside, "Is Harry around?"
"Actually, no," I say with a frown, "He's on an errand at the Ministry this afternoon. He should be home within the hour though, you're welcome to stay. I may not be as good company as Harry, but I'm told I make excellent tea!" I offer.
"You don't have to do that dear, I could come back," she offered politely, though I could tell she preferred to stay.
"Oh it's no trouble, Mrs. Weasley. Harry and Severus have been so generous to me, the least I can do is make their guests equally as comfortable."
"Well, if you insist," she agrees sitting down on the sofa.
"I'll be right back with the tea," I say heading to the kitchen, I add, "I'll call Severus."
"Oh no," she's says quickly, "You needn't bother him for me."
"No, no, its' fine," I say with a smile, "Honestly, the company is good for him."
I know I was just thinking that Severus could use an afternoon alone, but I can give him that any day. I feel like socializing would be good for him, and I could tell in Mrs. Weasley's tone that she would prefer he weren't there. I'll take any chance I can get to show people that Severus is good.
I decide to go right downstairs and insist he come up once I set the water boiling. It's easy enough for him to grunt a 'no' at me from down there, but face to face, I've discovered he won't deny me anything. I've recently learned that he quite likes me, probably because of my competency with potions.
"Who was at the door?" he asks mildly curious, though not enough for eye contact, as I descend the stairs.
"Mrs. Weasley," I reply.
"Not Granger?" he asks for clarification.
"Not Hermione," I confirm.
"Molly," he says, "What does she want?"
"Tea with us," I lie, mostly to irritate him and he knows that. He only gets grumpy with Harry for teaching me how to annoy him.
"Suppose I politely decline?" he asks.
"I'm afraid I insist," I say, trying not to grin.
He sighs dramatically, and drops the items he was holding hard on the table to try to reclaim his prickly reputation. I know full well that if he really didn't want to, he would tell me so in words only he would use. I know I can't make Severus do something he doesn't want to.
Mrs. Weasley looks surprised when the two of us join her with tea. Like she really didn't think he would. She looks even more surprised when he speaks.
"Molly," he grunts in greeting.
"Hello, Severus," she says politely, reigning in her shock, "You look well."
He grunts again and takes his tea to his favourite chair.
"So Hermione must have told you about me then?" I ask, making conversation. "I hope it was good."
"Yes!" Molly says, "She says Harry is quite taken with you... in a friendly way, of course," she glances nervously at Severus, "And Hermione speaks very highly of you."
"She's too kind to me," I blush. "Your son is very lucky to have her."
"Oh, I agree," she says, conspiratorial.
"Your husband works for the ministry. Arthur Weasley?" I say, "I believe I met him during my brief time there."
"Yes, you were an Auror, weren't you dear?" she asks.
"Yes, briefly and not a very good one, I don't think, with how long it lasted," I reply.
"Well, with how dark the times were... I think anyone who didn't defect was the best auror they had. It's not just about your reflexes and proficiency, it's also about your personality," she says reassuringly. I can see why she's a mother figure for Harry, she's very maternal. "Whether you survived or not had less to do with skill and a lot more to do with pure luck at the end."
"Well, I'm here so I must have a horseshoe hidden somewhere I don't know about," I agree. She smiled slightly. There's not really much a person can do with talk of the war other than joke about it, and it's seldom ever funny.
We went on to talk about her sons and husband and their jobs at the Ministry. I found Molly very easy to talk to. Severus even added the occasional comment (thinly veiled with an insult), but he retreated back downstairs when his tea was finished. He wasn't the type for lingering.
"You know I've never spent time with Severus except on business before today," Mrs. Weasley tells me, "He's not like I thought he would be."
"He isn't!" I agree enthusiastically, "I really enjoy spending time with him. He knows something about everything... you can learn a lot if you're willing to listen."
"I still don't see the appeal of purposely seeking his attention..." she starts hesitantly, "but if he has the endorsement of Harry and a polite young girl like you... and to some extent Hermione, then he must not be as bad as all the fuss that's been made."
She did call me polite so I hope she will excuse the directness of my next comment, "I understand there's been some trouble between Harry and your family since he's been with Severus." And that was my other motive for asking Severus to tea.
She looks slightly flustered for a moment, but I know she's a lot keener than she seems to be. I continue, "Forgive me if it's not my place, but I care a lot for Harry and I know you do as well. He's more bothered by it than he lets on to you, I think."
"Thank you for your concern, Ella," she says deliberately, "I appreciate your boldness. There's no doubt in my mind that Severus is one of the bravest and most self sacrificing wizards alive and that we all owe him our lives... my concern has always been this: is he the best thing for Harry? Can he make Harry happy? Would he be happier settling down with a nice witch such as yourself?"
"Maybe," I reply, "But I don't think so. Harry doesn't exactly know what our definition of 'normal' is, does he? He's never experienced it. Severus understands him better than anyone else could... and gives him the freedom he needs to discover exactly who Harry Potter is, beyond 'The Boy Who Lived'.
Think about it: they've both lived nearly the entirety of their lives dedicated to the exact same purpose. They were the most important pawns, used by two powerful men to win a dangerous war. And now that's it's over, neither of them know what their purpose in this life in, neither of them expected to have a life after it was over. So now they have each other... a reason to be. Nobody else could understand Harry as well as Severus does."
"As well as you seem to?" Mrs. Weasley says slyly, then realizes what she's said, "I mean of course, you have a very good point. I didn't realize things have been so hard for him..."
"Nobody does, he won't let on," I tell her, "You shouldn't blame yourself. I only know because I've lived with the two of them for nearly 3 months now. There are some things you can't help but notice in close proximity."
I hear the wards make their distinctive chime signaling that Harry has passed through, "That'll be him now," I say, "Don't let on that we've had this chat?" I beg.
"Of course not dear," she reassures, "There's no need to."
Harry steps into the room and nearly as soon as he's in he's wrapped her is a bear hug, "Mrs. Weasley!"
"Please, Harry dear, it's 'Molly'," she says, flustered by his affection. I know I'm grinning.
He pulls back, "How long has it been? Why are you here? It doesn't matter! You have to stay for dinner."
"But Arthur..." she begins.
"He'll join us to!" Harry exclaims, I don't think I've seen him this excited, "Please, I insist."
Molly grins widely and touches his cheek briefly, "Okay, you win. I really just came to visit with you anyway."
"I'll cook," I offer, "So you can catch up. I'm nowhere near as good as you, Mrs. Weasley, from what I've heard of your cooking, but it will do."
"Please, call me Molly," she says again more pointedly to both of us, "And I'm sure it will be lovely."
"I'll let Sev know then," I tell Harry with an encouraging smile, he's giving me the 'You don't have to do that look'.
I hear Molly chatting away at him as I leave the room and descend the stairs again.
"Harry's home," I tell Severus as I approach the counter he's working at.
"I do have ears, Miss Parker," he says.
"Oh, you do?" I counter, "How human of you."
"In this form," he adds.
I grin. Another secret fact about Severus Snape: he has a really good sense of humour. "Molly will be staying for dinner and Mr. Weasley will be joining us as well."
"Lovely," he snarls. He's faking.
"I'll be cooking," I inform him.
"No you will not," he punctuates each word threateningly, "I have no desire to be poisoned this evening by an incompetent ninny who can't tell a stove from a shower head."
This sets me off giggling and I can hardly stop enough to ask him, "You just called me... a ninny? Really Severus... either you're running out of vocabulary or you're going soft."
He ignores me, "I will be preparing dinner."
"I'll help," I say, nearly recovered.
"I won't have my house burnt down," he spins dramatically and stalks upstairs. He is referring to the first time I tried to use my new wand to boil water for tea and started a small fire on the cupboard.
"That was only once!" I call after him, giggling again.
