AN: Hey everyone! Wow, once again, very late update, super sorry about that! This chapter was a real pain to write—had to push past this huge block to get the ending of this one. But now that this is finally gone, I know where I'm wanting to go with the story from here, so I'm hoping I'll be able to update more often. Again, I'd like to apologize for taking forever to get this up, I know there are many of you sitting on the edges of your seat for what's going to happen next, and I'm being a horribly evil author with my delayed updates. Super sorry. You can thank LizzyElphabaLovegood for this chapter, she got on my case to update and was the reason I finally powered through this pill of a chapter. I hope you all enjoy it, because it was a pain to get out. As always, reviews are wonderful. Happy Christmas!
Chapter 11
The Beginning of the End
I woke up feel incredibly warm, along with a hard, solidness pressed up against my back. Instinctively my body moved into the warmth, and I heard a small groan. Arms slipped around my waist, pulling me all the closer. I felt so comfortable, warm, secure… wait, what? Arms wrapped around me? What the hell?
Suddenly very awake I sat up, so fast I was surprised I didn't give myself whiplash. The arms that had been holding me dropped, and I looked down, wide-eyed, at a disheveled, half-asleep Severus Snape, blinking up at me in confusion.
"Love? What're you doing?" he questioned, his voice rough with sleep.
Taking in the surroundings of the dark room, memories of the day before became clearer in my head. That's right; I'd been shot forward into my future. I was thirty-two, married to Snape and missing all my memories since the day I'd been hit by lightning. Blinking I brought a hand up to my face, rubbing it in a soothing motion, feeling a headache coming on.
"Leda?" Severus said again, also sitting up, his hand reaching out to rest on my forehead, seemingly checking for a fever. Annoyed, I pushed it away.
"Nothing, bad dream," I hurried to explain, closing my eyes as if that would close out this new reality. It was only my second day waking up in this place, and already I wanted nothing more than to go home, away from the endless questions, the constant fear and danger, and back to a world where my parents were still safe, my friends were still there, and Severus Snape remained an acquaintance.
"Another?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing in concern.
I forced a smile that was supposed to be reassuring, though it felt stiff and fake. "Its fine, I'm sure they'll go away soon."
He sighed, pulling me into an embrace I didn't want to be a part of. "I thought they'd finally gone away for good…" he murmured, a hand coming up to stroke my hair comfortingly. I tried my best to act relaxed in his arms, but it was difficult. In a span of a little more than a day he'd embraced me more than he had the entire seven years of our acquaintance. It was unnerving, and honestly a bit awkward.
"They disappeared once, they'll go away again," I muttered, "Go back to sleep."
I hoped he would let it drop there and we could just roll over and forget about the entire thing, but of course that was too easy. His grip on me tightened, and I heard him let out a deep breath, like he were irritated.
"Is there a reason you're distancing yourself from me?" he asked, making me jump in surprise.
Turning in his arms to look in his face I tried to pull an innocent, confused expression, "What are you talking about?"
He frowned down at me, the expression so similar to what I was used to seeing in the past, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Ever since yesterday morning you've been acting strange, pulling away from me, flinching when I touch you, looking disgusted just by glancing at me," I was shaking my head in denial, but he paid it no heed, continuing on. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you don't know me at all."
"That's not true," I snapped, even though it was. "I've had a lot to think about lately."
He raised his eyebrows, not looking convinced, "Like what, Leda?" I made to respond, but no clever lie came out. I couldn't think of anything, and I could see by the expression on his face that he knew I had nothing. He shook his head, releasing his hold on me and pulling away, "That's what I thought." I watched him in the dark as he ran his hands through his hair roughly; looking so lost and irritated, as though I'd betrayed him horribly. Maybe I had, I didn't know what had transpired between us in the last fifteen years. I didn't know our trust system, or his little tells that could give me a clue to what he was thinking or feeling. I was on an entirely different playing field now, and someone had forgotten to tell me the rules to the game.
"What do you want me to say?" I asked, almost desperately.
"The truth would be preferable," as he said this I noticed how worn down he sounded, as though he'd lost his will to fight. How could such an arrogant, lively man have become so old in so few years? Suddenly, I felt very guilty for hiding anything from him. He was my husband, surely that meant something?
"I'm sorry," came my whispered reply, voice breaking slightly. He let out a long sigh, and then reached over to cup my cheek lightly. Looking into his eyes, I noticed so much emotion, more than he'd ever been willing to show me at Hogwarts. Confusion, sadness, disappointment, and… love? I couldn't be sure about that last one. Whatever that last emotion was, it shone so brightly it was mind numbing.
"Just talk to me, love," he murmured desperately. And I almost did. I almost told him everything. But in the next moment I lost my chance.
Snape let out a hiss of pain, retracting his arm as it flinched. Bringing my gaze down, I was startled by the sight of a tattoo on his left forearm. It was a nasty looking thing of a snake, and more startling than that was it actually moved, convulsing there under his skin. I looked at it in wide-eyed horror, even after my husband had climbed off the bed and began pulling on his robes.
Blinking out of my petrified state, I asked, confused, "Where are you going?"
He was pulling on his boots now—honestly, I'd never seen anyone dress as quickly as he had. Looking up through his stringy hair he answered hurriedly, "The Dark Lord is calling me, I have to go." Boots firmly on, he stood to his full height. Walking over to my side of the bed he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, eyes searching my face for something. He looked troubled as he said, "We'll talk later."
Before I had time to respond he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then strode out of the room, boots sounding loud as they hit the wooden floor. I watched him go, a million different thoughts running through my head, and with every thought I felt more and more alone and desperate. Who was this "Dark Lord" character Snape kept bringing up? What happened to my parents? Where were all my friends? How the hell had I ended up here? Was there anyone I could trust?
And suddenly, I felt like crying. I felt the tear biting at the back of my eyes, trying to escape and roll down my cheeks. I resisted, blinking hard to push them away. I wouldn't cry; I was stronger than that. No matter how difficult things got, I could figure it out—I could fix this. Somehow, I would fix this. I was the daughter of two of the smartest professors and students Hogwarts had ever seen, some ruddy lightning storm wouldn't best me.
With that thought I became more determined than ever to figure out how this terrifying future had formed. Within ten or so minutes I'd gathered the books I'd taken from the library and settled myself into the kitchen with a cup of tea and some toast. I was prepared for a long day of research, and I wasn't going to stop until I found some answers or Severus returned.
It was noon by the time I found an article of any use, and reading I felt my heart break. Potions Professor Found Dead! Eyes darting down to the article, I scanned the contents, hardly registering more than a few phrases. Located in abandoned house. Death by killing curse. Wand not present at scene. No current leads. Husband still missing. Daughter makes no comment. I stared at the pictures on the page, slightly faded with time. One was a family photo that I recognized well. My parents and I had taken it at the end of my sixth year, right before I went back with Lily to her home for the summer. We looked happy, Mum and I on either side of Dad, his arms wrapped around my shoulder and Mum's waist, holding us both. He'd crane his neck to press a kiss to Mum's head every now and then, or squeeze me closer to him. Mum and I were smiling big while Dad had that small curve of his lips, a mixture of a smile and a smirk. We looked so content and happy. The picture next to it was of an older me. I had to be twenty at least. My skin was paler than normal, there were dark circles under my eyes, and though my face was blank I could see the pain there, hidden. What shocked me most was that Severus was there in the picture with me, standing slightly back. Cameras were flashing everywhere, giving me the impression that this was likely me having been ambushed by reporters asking for comments. Apparently I hadn't given any. Every few moments Severus would touch my hand, or he'd send me a slightly strained, though still reassuring look.
I could hardly believe it. My mother was dead. Mum was dead! How could something like that even happen? Why had it happened? I didn't understand. My parents just went missing, then my mother turned up in some abandoned all house dead? Where was I during all of this? Why hadn't I been around to protect them? Surely there had been some sort of clues before hand; it couldn't have just been completely random. Why hadn't I stopped it from happening? It didn't make any sense, none at all.
I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the tears dripping down my chin. With shaking hands I reached up and brushed them away. Crying wouldn't help. But neither would all those bloody papers. I wanted answers—needed answers, and I couldn't sift through years of Daily Profit newspapers to find them. I had to ask someone. Surely someone was still around who would be willing to explain what was going on, someone I could trust. Someone who, preferably, wouldn't lock me up in the mental unit of St. Mungo's. And then the idea came to me. Dumbledore.
Of course. Dumbledore was practically family to me back when I was still at Hogwarts. Assuming nothing had happened to hugely change that, he of all people would trust me. Mum had always told me he was the best person to go to in a crisis, if she and Dad weren't available. If this wasn't a crisis, I didn't know what was. Plus, Dumbledore wasn't the sanest person in the world, either, if anyone was to believe such an unbelievable story, it would be him. Mind made up, I gathered up the books and prepared to leave the house for a second time that day. I had some questions needing some proper answers.
I was going back to Hogwarts.
