Chapter Seven

I sighed as I slipped into bed, content after the meal of roast vegetables and thick, creamy soup I had been served in the dining room. But soon I was fidgeting, unable to get to sleep. My mind kept replaying the Slytherin prince talking to me, touching me, kissing me. It was enough to drive me mad. This was the man who had given the orders to kill my father, brother and sister. This was the man leading the raids that left my people bleeding and homeless. Despite the bold words I had spoken to my mother, I was sure Snape was responsible.

I fell into a restless sleep. The images of dying people haunted me: my father, pleading for mercy; my sister, screaming in pain.

I was in the highest tower of the Keep. My breath was coming quickly and my feathers stood on end. There was a chilly, oily quality to the room. I struggled to breathe. I was six years old.

"Harry," someone whispered. I swirled around to see Kate—my sister—behind me, panting. "Hide. They're coming."

I looked up at her curiously. "Who?"

"The Slytherin." Her voice was low and her eyes wide with terror. "Hide," she repeated. "I'll be fine." She looked behind herself as if expecting someone. Her eyes had a wild, fearful look to them that I had never seen before, at least not on her.

"Not without you," I said, shaking my head.

"Harry! I'll be fine, I promise."

Even then I knew that her promise was an empty one.

"Kate Potter," I stated boldly, using her name for the first time. "I command you to come with me."

She simply looked at me, her face pale. Then she smiled. "I'm older than you," she said. Her voice was soft. "You always forget that."

"Come on, Kate," I said. "Hide with me."

She looked sad, so very sad. "They'll know," she said, her voice cracking. "They'll know we're here. It'll be suspicious. The only way is out the window."

"But you can't fit through the window," I breathed, horrified.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she lifted me into her arms. Her body was warm and she smelled like summer and strawberries and vanilla. Her hands around my waist were tight; as if she was afraid she'd never get to see me again.

"The Shehen Shaah is to be protected at all costs," she whispered, quoting the rule book of the Royal Guard. "At all costs."

I pushed and kicked, my voice loud. "Kate! Stop—"

"I love you," she said quickly, her voice thick with tears. "I love you and mother and father and Matthew and you. Never forget that."

"Kate," I whimpered. "Please."

"Sorry," she whispered for the last time, before throwing me out of the window.

I fumbled in the air for a few seconds, plummeting towards the ground at an astonishing speed. The wind blew through my hair and I squeezed my eyes shut. I forced myself to shift forms, the change coming to me after a momentary struggle. I flapped my wings.

When I got back to the window above, everything was quiet. I stared into the room carefully, my ears alert for any noise. Then I saw him.

He was holding her by the arms tightly. I could see blood dripping where his nails had scratched her.

"Pretty princess," he was saying. "Delicate, pretty princess."

She whimpered, eyes closing. Tears made their way down her cheeks. Her dress was ripped and torn.

He took out a long, sharp sword. Its edge gleamed in the light. I saw dried blood on its blade.

"This isn't going to hurt one bit," he smiled, before hacking it through her stomach.

She screamed. He kept on going. Slash, hack, rip, tear… She screamed and screamed and screamed, and I was screaming with her.

Finally she lay still on the floor, blood pooling around her. Her wings lay beside her, torn to pieces.

"Kate," I whispered brokenly.

The scene changed.

Now I was in the dining hall, Remus sat at the table, smiling at me. I smiled back.

"Do you want some soup, Remus?" I asked happily. "I made it myself. Cook let me help her."

"Of course, Harry," he answered. My mother's laughter rang across the hall. I sensed my father's eyes resting on my back.

I carefully ladled a spoonful of the soup into Remus' bowl, taking care not to spill any. He thanked me before taking a sip.

"Why, this is the best soup I've ever—" His expression changed from a smile to a look of horror. "Harry—" He struggled to speak. His body fell from the chair heavily.

"Remus!"

I heard my father get up quickly; calling to the guards, but it was all too late. Remus lay on the floor, frothing. He had been poisoned by the soup meant for me: poisoned by the liquid Cook had added when I wasn't looking.

"Harry," Remus whispered.

The scene changed.

Now I was standing in my bedroom, except it wasn't my bedroom—the furniture was in different positions, covered in blood, and ripped. Severus Snape was reclining on my chair, his hair falling over his eyes. He was wearing black; the fabric was stretched tightly over his abdomen. Even in my dreams he looked terrifying. I felt a slight heat travel through my body.

"Harry," he said, and I shivered at his voice. "I've been waiting for you."

My hair was standing on end. Ripples went through my flesh, goosebumps, and I tried to calm my racing heartbeat. It's a dream, I told myself. Just a dream.

"What have you done to my room?"

He looked amused. "What haven't I done?"

I was suddenly furious. White hot rage coursed through my body: here was the man who had killed my sister, father and brother. Here was the man responsible for all my suffering.

"Get out," I growled; knowing I never could have done so in real life. "Get the hell out of my room."

An eyebrow rose. "Finally, Potter, you're showing some spine."

"What do you want?" I spat. "Do you want to kill me?" I stepped forward, ignoring every signal that told me to run. "Do you want to kill me?" I repeated, fixing my eyes on his.

"It depends," he answered with a smirk. "Are you willing to have sex first?"

With a growl I launched myself at him. "Kill me!" I screamed as I pounded my fists on his stomach. I hauled a punch at his nose and smiled as I heard the sickening crunch and snap of broken bone.

He pushed me off of him and I landed on the ground with a thud. He was much stronger, of course. His eyes were a bright, fiery red as he stared at me. "You broke my nose," he said quietly. "A bad choice."

I watched in fascination the deep crimson blood that trickled down his cheek. Somehow I had always thought it would be…different. Unhuman.

"You deserved it," I said, my voice softer.

"What did I do to deserve that?" he asked with a glint in his eye.

"You really have to ask?"

"Apparently, yes."

"You're responsible for the deaths of my family and friends," I said coldly. "You're responsible for those despicable raids on my—"

"What raids?" he asked sharply.

I laughed; a high, maniacal sound. "The burnings. The killings. The plunder. You know, the things that have been going on for about two weeks now?"

He shook his head. "That's not true."

"Shut up," I said angrily. "You're nothing but a liar. Even in the Phoenix lands when you said you wanted peace—even then you were lying. As soon as you got back you launched another war."

"I did not." His voice was calm; matter-of-fact.

I sat down on my bed heavily. My head was pounding, and all I wanted was to wake up. Wake up from this nightmare.

"How did you get in here?" I asked finally.

"The servant's staircase," he answered, smirking. "It's funny—there are hardly any guards. If you ask me, Potter, I think it's far too easy to get in here. Maybe your Guard isn't as efficient as you'd like."

I sighed. I knew this type of dream; I had had it before. After a while Snape would get violent and attack me, and I would see my mother and sister and brother and father dying with me.

"Why are you here?"

"To talk," he said simply. "I haven't heard from you or your mother since you left the Phoenix."

"For good reason," I said coldly. "You're an evil, conniving snake and we don't want anything to do with you."

"I'm insulted."

"Why?" I asked, suddenly infuriated. "Why attack innocents? Why not me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

I stood up roughly, marching to my closet and pulling it open. I took out the box I had been keeping for a week now.

"Look," I spat. "Look at the feathers, the blood, the pictures… All courtesy of you."

Inside the box were many things. There were bloodied feathers, taken from the rotting wings that lay on our streets. There were pictures of dead women and men, all killed in the raids. There was hair, collected from a dying Gryffindor on the battlefield.

My mother thought me insane for carrying such things.

"What is this?" he asked.

I didn't answer.

After a few minutes he looked up. His eyes were burning with intensity, and I had to look away to avoid the deep garnet.

"Describe these raids."

It was only my dream: this I knew. Severus Snape wasn't really here. Anything he said was just what I wanted him to say. Still, I went on with an almost feverish pace, desperate to hear his denial: desperate to hear that he hadn't commanded the raids.

"Slytherins," I began, "have been attacking our people for weeks now. They burn down houses, they slaughter women and children; they steal all that we have. It is barbaric."

"I can assure you that I haven't ordered these raids. Are you sure it's not some other species—?"

"Absolutely," I snapped. "We found scales. And bodies—of snakes."

I watched his face slowly harden. "There are traitors among my people, then."

"So it seems."

"I did not know." His voice was low; his eyes pleading with me. "I swear you this, Potter—I did not know."

There it was. The denial. The one I had been expecting.

Why did I have these dreams?

He stood up and began to pace. "Look, Potter, I came here today for a reason. I want—"

He looked at me sharply, "—to marry you."

I closed my eyes in fury. When I spoke, it was in a voice of pure steel. "Must you continue that nonsense?"

"Yes."

I couldn't believe my subconscious was still providing me with this rubbish.

"Well, Snape, I'm afraid I'll have to break your heart. If you have one."

He stepped closer until his body was nearly touching mine. I breathed deeply, trying to calm down, trying to ignore the exotic smell of spices that lingered to his clothes. "Stay away."

"I don't think so, Mr Potter," he said softly. His hands brushed mine, a mere feather of a touch. I sat still, as if frozen.

"You say a marriage between a snake and a hawk would not work. I beg to differ." His face leaned in closer to mine. "I like to think we're more than our animal counterparts. If we can think as humans do, feel pain as humans do…love as humans do…" His lips brushed over mine and I found myself leaning into the touch. "Then surely we're capable of living as humans do?"

I snapped out of my trance, rushing backwards and out of his grasp almost immediately. "Why do you always do that?" I asked furiously, wiping my mouth. "Is it some sort of magic?"

The Slytherin glared. "It isn't magic. I'm not the one doing anything. You're the one who's falling over yourself every time I touch you."

"And you think a marriage between us would work?" I asked, sneering. "We can't go two minutes without something happening."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Come on, Potter. I'm tired of this war. I'm tired of it. I'd kill myself if I thought it would help."

I stood up roughly. "And I'm tired, Snape." I was furious he thought I didn't care. "I'm tired of the blood and the fear and the death—I'm tired of not knowing who will die next. I'm tired of seeing good men and women fall to the ground, lifeless." My voice was a harsh yell. "I'm tired of my people looking to me for guidance, when I have no idea what to do. I'm sick and tired of the way my mother treats me. I'm tired of looking in the mirror and seeing someone I hardly recognise. Bloody fingernails, matted hair, clothes stained with death." I was fighting tears, trying to control the emotion welling deep within me. "And I'm tired of you," I shouted. "I'm tired of your face in my dreams. Nightmares. Death. Loss. Fear. Everything. I'm tired of everything."

He was staring at me with a strange look on his face. His eyes were glowing a deep red. I shivered slightly as I caught his intense gaze, highly aware of what I must look like—half dressed, hair falling all over the place.

"Take this," he finally said, placing his hand over mine. The touch was electric.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice high.

"A promise of safety, should you ever decide to accept my proposal."

With shock I stared into the onyx ring glittering in my finger. It was the Snape heirloom.

"Explain," I said, shaking.

"I will ask you one last time to end the war," he said. "I understand it's a big decision—that's why I'm giving you a week to think over it. Come to my castle if you're willing. I'll post trustworthy guards to meet you. Remember, you have only a week. After that…"

Was the man mad? He was asking me to step into Slytherin territory with nothing but a ring to protect me!

"Think it over," he repeated. "Goodbye, Harry." He stretched my name out, as if savouring it in his mouth.

I watched his dark form disappear slowly into the night, leaving me alone in my room. I sat still for a few minutes, jumping at every noise and shying away from the shadows.

I sighed. Everything was so confusing. I longed to walk away from it all—to merge with the humans; live life without having to see another snake again. But as soon as I had the thought, I rejected it. I could never betray my people in that way. Maybe accepting the Slytherin prince's proposal was the right thing to do…?

An abrupt noise to my right made me jump. The room was dark; shadows loomed large on the walls.

No.

Suddenly I was cold, the blood freezing in my veins. A knife was placed at my throat.

"You didn't think I'd let you go that easily, did you?"

I closed my eyes in horror as the nightmare began all over again.


Author's Notes:

I'm not very happy with this chapter, actually. I'm currently in ANOTHER massive writer's block.

Ugh.

Any suggestions, plot-wise? I want to change the plot slightly now. It's been following Hawksong pretty much exactly so far.

Remember to leave a review…