The Unexpected Details
"Severus," she said firmly.
It was odd how the woman said his name. She pronounced it incorrectly in his opinion and this annoyed him very much.
"Will you please pull back the covers and look at me?" she asked in the same determined tone.
As if he would answer to her demands! The older woman had left him here to rot without a care and he had to manage on his own even when he could not get out of bed. He had attempted to but he was too weak and neither of these useless women came to help him.
"I have something for you," she started again, this time in a gentler tone. "It's something you'll like," she added, her voice lifting in an attempt to sound upbeat.
The tone grated his nerves; why was she bothering him now? Her manner implied he was a spoiled child who needed prompting or attention. Besides that, how did she think she knew what he would like?
"I can't possibly be that ugly. Come on, Severus … is it going to hurt you to be civil?" she asked impatiently.
This was the last straw. He was sure if he glared at her properly or told her she was ugly, she would go away.
He slowly lowered the covers off his head and awarded her his best and most effective glare of dislike. The scandalous female had the nerve to smile back at him like some bleeding idiot.
Why was she smiling like that? She must realize there could not possibly be anything to smile about in this situation. The only positive aspect was that she had at least tried to improve her appearance.
She was dressed respectably in a simple blue dress and her wild hair was pulled back from her face. He still wondered how someone could have such ill-mannered hair.
He noticed she was holding a thick stack of newspapers; she was hugging them to her chest. He stared at them a moment before lifting his eyes back to her face.
"I brought them so you could catch up on the news," she offered, still smiling.
It was then he noticed the old woman, who was standing back near the door. She was staring at him with displeasure, but, once he noticed her, she came forward to stand beside the younger woman.
Since he had thrown the glass at the old woman, she had thoroughly and utterly ignored him. She had passed through the room and even brought him food, but other than that she pretended as if he did not exist.
"Leave them," he muttered in reference to the newspapers, ready to pull the covers back up over his head.
"No," she stated.
"What did you say?" he grumbled.
"I will give you the newspapers on the condition that you get out of bed and take care of yourself properly," she allowed. "A bath would do you a world of good and make you feel -"
"I don't take orders from you," he interrupted in a waspish voice.
"You stink," the old woman complained. "You have been attempting to care for yourself and have been doing a lousy job of it," she went on. "Too proud to apologize or even ask for help," she criticized.
"HOW dare you!" he spat angrily.
"Severus," the younger woman cautioned. "We have tried to care for you. It was very wrong of you to throw a glass at her when she has only been trying to help you," she scolded. "She has seen to all your personal needs while you have been here, but now it is time for you to get up and do things for yourself," she insisted.
"She hasn't done anything for me lately … except bring me food," he countered.
"Oh honestly," the older woman announced. "Do you really think while you were unconscious that you've been laying here all this time without someone making sure you didn't foul the sheets?" she asked darkly. "Not that all I did matters anymore … just look at you," she insinuated. "Magic wasn't meant to solve such situations," she added.
"You haven't done anything for me," he barked, but unfortunately doubt entered his mind, realizing that while he was unconscious or asleep it was very possible the old woman could have done things for him that he was unaware of.
"So, you've mastered your body functions well enough that you can go so long without going to the toilet?" the old woman asked smoothly.
Severus' eyes widened with horror. After he had thrown the glass at her, she had not come near him and he had cared for himself as best he could, given the fact he could not get out of bed. It was not pretty and overall it was a miserable existence, but his depression had made him incapable of really caring about his personal hygiene or appearance. Faced with these two nags, the shame and embarrassment of his situation sent a dark color to his cheeks.
"Do you people not have any respect for … for … my dignity!? What about my personal space?" he charged.
"Personal space?" the old woman repeated. "Exactly who would take care of you except us? You certainly haven't had any friends about to wipe your own skinny tush while you were unconscious and weak," she went on. "And you've been doing a poor job of it lately. You smell like the pit of death. I am tired of walking by here every day with you in this condition. You are not fit for human sight."
Severus' face had possibly never turned so red.
This old prune had no right to speak to him so disrespectfully. He was a grown man, not a child to be spoken to in this manner. Tush!? He knew what the word meant, but that she would say it to him horrified him beyond belief
"Y-you didn't. I would have know if -"
"I did," she cut in smoothly.
"You had no right!" he snapped bitterly.
"Severus, there is no need to act offended about this," the younger woman said calmly. "We are not here to hurt you, we're here to help you."
"I am an adult. I am not a child! I do not need your help!" he growled.
"Neither of us think that you are a child," the younger countered gently.
The older woman gave a humph noise, which suggested she did not really agree.
Silence filled the room and it took a few moments before the younger woman decided to speak again. Severus watched her and he was sure she was searching for the right thing to say.
"I'm sorry, Severus. I know it has been difficult. With bandaged hands it has been hard to help yourself. I have them too … and …"
She stopped and gave a sigh. She glanced at the older woman and then back at him.
"We can take them off now, so … would it be alright if we help you remove the bandages?" she asked softly.
He had not noticed it until now, but the far door to the left was not closed all the way. The reason it caught his attention was that it moved ever so slightly. Severus did not know why, but he got the odd notion someone might have been listening in on the conversation just behind the door and out of sight.
"Severus, we can take the bandages off now, is that alright?" she pressed. She must have thought he had not heard her as his attention had diverted to the door.
"Yes," he snapped, unsure of what else to reply. At least he would be able to use his hands properly again if the bandages were removed. They were in poor condition anyway and he had considered doing it himself. However, not knowing what was really wrong with his hands, he was afraid to look at them.
She nodded, walked over to the desk and set the newspapers down. She returned and, like she had done before while in this room, she sat down on the edge of the bed.
This action disrupted his train of thought and forced him to pull his feet away. The old woman moved around to stand in front of the younger of the two, ready to take off her bandages first.
"Can I watch?" a voice asked from behind the door. "Can I stop being like invisible and come in there now? Please?" the voice went on impatiently.
It startled Severus even though somehow he had expected it; his surprise was mostly because it had sounded like someone very young. Both women had turned to stare at the door. Severus was bewildered that there was another person in the house, equally so that it sounded like a child.
The younger woman glanced at the older woman a moment and then she did something he did not expect. She turned her attention to him and stared into his eyes in a manner that unsettled him.
He had no idea to what purpose all these secret identities were and why their names and reasons were being kept from him. He had not been informed what sort of injury he had sustained to his hands or really anything at all about the events leading to these people taking him in.
The younger woman turned her head back to the door.
"Alright, you can come in, but remember what we talked about," she stated, her tone sounding very serious.
The door was flung open and someone small darted inside. Severus practically jerked as if he was under attack. For a split second it was what he had actually thought: that this had all been a dream and now the real foe was ready to attack him. The door bumped loudly against the far wall, also giving Severus a little taste of dread.
The figure stopped at the end of the bed, staring at him. The younger woman pulled the child so it was hidden on her other side, somewhat between her and the older woman.
Severus was infuriated that he only had the briefest glimpse of a young boy. Neither of them had asked him whether he thought it was alright for this child to enter here.
"Who is THAT!?" Severus growled.
The two women remained mute and were now staring at him. The little boy edged around behind the old woman and peeked around the woman's back. He stared curiously at Severus.
Severus glared back and the boy darted behind the old woman again.
The older woman began to work on the younger's hands again, starting to unwrap the bandages.
Severus' breathing had become a little shallow as the little child kept peeking around the older woman as she worked on removing the bandages.
Eventually the little boy became brave enough to edge his way around the older woman, becoming fully visible to Severus.
The child frowned as Severus glared back at the penetrating bright eyes. This time the child must have plucked up enough courage as he did not shy away. The little eyes darted all over Severus' face, hair and body. Severus also examined the small boy in the same manner.
How old was this child? Severus had no idea, but he was very small and willowy. The boy had extremely messy short black hair and eyes that were nearly as dark. Those eyes transferred their interest to the younger woman's hands as the old woman was almost finished.
Severus also turned his attention to the hands, waiting to see what was hidden. He was expecting something grotesque and the child also seemed to be anticipating something more exciting than what was actually revealed.
Once the bandages were off, nothing appeared unusual about the woman's hands.
"Are they all better now?" the little boy asked as he pushed himself against the younger woman's legs, getting closer and staring at the revealed hands avidly.
"Yes, all better," she replied and lowered her hands, palms up so the child could investigate them.
The boy reached out and gingerly touched the woman's hand, leaning forward in youthful curiosity to actually try to make sure there were no flaws.
"Your turn," the older woman announced brusquely, coming forward to remove Severus' bandages.
Severus scowled but held up his hands anyway. He was more intent on getting the bandages off than complaining about the situation. The older woman reached out and began to unwrap his bandages.
The bed gave a jerk; he shifted his gaze to the end of the bed.
"Can I do it?" the child asked. The jerk had been the small boy climbing up on the bed. He now sat on his knees very near Severus' feet. It took the younger woman putting her arm around the boy to prevent him from moving forward.
"What madness is this!?" Severus cried angrily. "Don't you people know anything about personal space at all?" he asked heatedly.
He had scarcely been around a child this young since he himself had been that age. It was not proper for a child he did not know, or even one he did, to be on his bed in such an open and familiar manner.
"Personal space again?" the older woman mused as she grabbed his other hand and began removing the second bandage.
He glanced down at the hand that was free of the bandages. He tried to find where he might have been wounded. There were no scars or evidence even of burns. This made no sense to him at all.
"I do not know any of you. None of this is …"
He paused because the bandages were gone from his other hand now and he stared at them both, distracted in trying to find evidence of wounds that apparently were not there.
"I was sick one time and I didn't feel good, so I couldn't go to school. Mommy and Granny taked care of me and I got better. They taked good care of me like they did for you," the little boy said seriously. "So, you don't have to be upset, 'cause now you can be better and get out of bed and -"
"Make him be quiet," Severus interrupted between clenched teeth.
The little boy frowned and leaned back against the younger woman. She was glaring at Severus quite forcefully.
So, she was the mother and apparently the old woman was the grandmother. Also, given the child's choice of word, they were possibly American.
"He isn't hurting you," the older woman complained.
"He is annoying me, which is the same thing," Severus countered sharply. "All of you, leave now," he ordered.
"Why?" the older woman charged.
"So I … why do you think? So I can escape this place," he charged forcefully.
"Going to just run out then?" she asked impertinently. "You haven't been out of bed in a while. You think you can just spring out and bounce away like a jackrabbit?" she went on, humor now very evident in her tone. The little boy giggled but quickly covered his mouth when Severus shot him a nasty glare.
"What did you call me?" Severus asked sharply.
"Why don't you come with me and we'll go start dinner," the older woman said to the small boy, ignoring Severus completely.
"Can't I stay in here?" the boy asked hopefully.
"No, the man wants his personal space, dear, so let's let him have it. Come on," the old woman insisted, reaching out a hand to the small boy.
He stared up at the younger woman as if to confirm that this was what he should do. The woman nodded and patted him affectionately on the head. The little boy took the older woman's hand and jumped down off the bed.
The two left the room, closing the door behind them as they left.
Severus frowned, wondering why she did not leave too, but it was also because she was now staring at him quite intensely.
"You can leave now," he complained impatiently when she still remained silent and seated on the bed.
"Maybe you should rethink that first. Last time wasn't much fun, was it?" she allowed coolly.
"Last time? You knew I attempted to get up … and none of you helped me?" he accused angrily.
"You were not hurt. Well, maybe your pride was a little …" she replied in the same tone, frowning at him.
"So, did you have fun watching me flounder about trying to get back on the bed? Enjoyed yourself, did you?" he charged. "Whoever you are," he added spitefully.
"As a matter of fact, no. And I didn't watch you; more like I heard you as my room is right there," she informed, waving a hand towards the door to her room.
"I can manage on my own," he barked.
"I'll wait and see how you do first. Besides that, you have no idea where the bathroom is and you haven't walked in a while. I'd rather be sure than have to drag you up off the floor or you hurt yourself," she insisted, moving off the bed to stand up.
"If it didn't matter before, why does it matter now?" he complained. "So are you going to be a good little nanny and also make sure I wash behind my ears?" he pressed viciously. His eyes widened when he realized what he had just said. It sort of came out on its own and he really did not know why he said it. The implication of his statement was not very appropriate at all.
She seemed to find humor in it though and appeared to be fighting to keep from grinning. The woman was a tart, a scandalous tart!
"Are we still in Britain?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
"Yes," she answered, smiling faintly.
"Where?" he pressed.
"Atcham," she answered, now breaking out in a rather devious grin.
"And that is … where exactly?"
"In the county of Shropshire, not too far from the Welsh border," she informed.
"You don't sound English or Welsh," he muttered, not quite sure how to take the Shropshire location; even he might need a map for that one.
"No, I don't, do I?" she replied dully.
"So you dragged my dead body all the way to the Midlands to do some Dark Magic on it and supposedly I'm alive … or maybe this is Hell and I am being tortured," he mused grumpily in an attempt to grasp the situation.
"Whichever you like," she answered smoothly.
He glowered at her and could see he would get few straight answers from this tart. She wanted to play word games with him.
"Why don't you just tell me what this is all about and get it over with? Then I can -"
"So you can what, exactly?" she cut in.
"I will not stay here any longer. You are an infuriating bother," he snapped in a waspish whisper.
"Well, it seems to me if you want to leave, you need to get out of bed first, don't you?" she suggested.
Severus had no idea why this woman drove him to the edge of irrationality. In any other situation he was quite sure he could keep a level head. For whatever reason this female's comments made it impossible to do that. She was arrogant, annoying, a bother, wild haired, so why was he letting her get under his skin?
Besides he hated to admit it but she was right, if he didn't get out of bed he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
His eyebrows drew together and he narrowed his eyes as anger flared in his chest. He grabbed the blankets and thrust them aside. He scooted to the edge, turned and dangled his feet over the side.
Severus touched his feet to the floor but hesitated in pushing himself to stand. She took a couple of steps forward, bringing herself closer and quite seriously making him wary of her. He had experienced this sensation before when she had come near to him and again it nipped at him.
He stared at her, torn with the trepidation of standing but also her closeness.
"I don't want you to fall. I am sorry that you fell before," she began. "I wasn't in here when it happened and I wasn't going to rush in and embarrass you further because of it," she explained softly. "Why would we take care of you just to abuse you? That's pretty silly," she added, trying to sound friendly.
He had no reply for her; he simply pushed himself up off the bed slowly and cautiously. He used the bedside table by pressing his palm down on it to steady himself. He also grabbed hold of the closest bedpost, though this put him in the awkward position of facing the woman.
She remained silent but watched him as he allowed his legs to adjust to the surprise of being used again.
"Where are my -"
"Your clothing is in the wardrobe and dresser, the bathroom is right outside the door across the hall," she informed, seeming to know what he was going to ask. "I'll bring your things for you," she informed. "Is your wand under your pillow?" she asked.
His eyes widened slightly. How would she know he always kept his wand under his pillow? He turned abruptly, reached under his pillow and snagged his wand. He held on to the bedpost and clutched his wand to his chest for a few seconds before he pointed it in her direction. His mind raced with the possibilities of how he could escape.
"Back up," he ordered sharply.
She did as he asked and took a step away but did not leave. She seemed unafraid of the threat his wand posed; she must be stupid, did she not know who he was?
"You can't apparate out of this house, if you want to know," she offered.
"If you want to be useful, fetch my things like you said you would," he muttered darkly.
A crease appeared between her eyes and she bit into her bottom lip, as if she were going to retort with a cutting remark but was holding it in. She abruptly turned and headed over to the large wardrobe.
He felt a bit more settled with her away from him. Her back was facing him and she opened the wardrobe before moving aside so he could see its contents. There hung his black cloak and robes, all clean and neatly arranged. His boots stood upright and clean as well at the bottom of the wardrobe.
She reached up and took down his robe, then leaned forward to grasp his boots. She moved across to the dresser with the mirror above it and opened a drawer, taking out … she just put her hands on his underpants! He glared at her with dislike.
"Do you mind?" he muttered harshly upon seeing his own underwear.
"No, not at all," she answered smoothly and carried the items towards the door, exiting without another word.
"Bloody tart," he accused gruffly after her. He turned and slowly shuffled his way along the edge of the bed, using it for support as he walked.
His legs were weak and he was already frustrated by the time he had reached the end of the bed. He was not used to being in such an ill condition, at least not to this extreme. He turned and crossed along the end of the bed and stood there staring at the open doorway. The tart alone frustrated him to excessive degrees that he could not even fathom yet. He held on to the final bedpost.
He steadied himself and walked forward, away from the bed, clutching his wand to his chest; it was a comfort to him and reassured him of who he was In any case, if he fell he could perhaps try a spell. He was not yet confident about attempting any magic to assist in his journey, considering how weak he felt right now.
Once he was at the doorway, he stopped and peeked out into what looked like a hall. To the left appeared to be a larger room and he could see another door beside a huge grand window; he assumed this might be the front door. To the right the hallway led down past two other doorways into an open area that must be the kitchen. He could hear the old woman and child speaking from that direction. It seemed to him that it was a rather small house.
A movement in front of him drew his attention to the other side of the hallway. The tart woman stood in the doorway across from him. He assumed that this was where she wanted him to travel, but he stood unmoving in the doorway to the bedroom.
"Your clothes are in the bathroom and I've also put some other things out for you. There is a closet inside, you can find anything else you might need in there," she informed as she walked forward and stood aside so he could walk across to the other doorway.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked harshly.
"Doing what?" she prompted, seeming unsure of what he meant. "Do you mean helping you or -"
"I do not know you," he announced over her question.
"What does knowing each other have to do with helping you? Do you want us to treat you badly?" she started. "If that is what you expect then you will not find it here. You might not like some of the things we say, but you will not go hungry or be forced out of your bed or purposefully humiliated."
Severus made a noise of disagreement, feeling he had already been humiliated.
"Your unconscious state aside, Severus … if you want to treat us badly for taking care of you, that is your choice, but we haven't hurt you. I hope you'll remember that next time you decide to throw something at one of us," she finished.
Severus considered her speech but did not really know how to respond to it. Now that he had left his bed and was moving, he felt inclined that to bathe and take care of himself would more than likely improve his overall view of the situation.
He made no reply to her but instead walked determinedly to the doorway across the hall. He closed the door without looking back at her.
He found a perfectly clean and orderly room; in fact he had never seen a bathroom appear so clean. The colors of pinks and blues annoyed him a little, but the overall appearance of everything seemed well organized and comfortable.
He supposed matters could be worse: he could be dead or possibly even, depending on the general mood of things, imprisoned in Azkaban.
The desire for the newspapers and information became a nagging urge. He had been promised them by the young woman if he came in here and took care of himself. So that is what he would do and then see whether she would follow through with her promise.
-------------------------------------------
"You look better," she said as Severus opened the door. He was taken aback, firstly by her comment but also because she was still standing here in the hallway, as if she were waiting for him to exit.
"Have you been standing here the whole time?" he asked.
"I wanted to make sure … if you needed something or help," she answered.
"I am capable of taking care of myself," he stated firmly, eyeing her suspiciously. A moment of silence passed where she appeared to be searching for how to reply to him. Before she could speak, he added, "Am I allowed to leave now if I wish?"
"Dinner will be ready in a minute and … the newspapers. I-I'm sure you'd like to catch up, wouldn't you? And -"
"Mommy."
Severus glanced over at the new interrupting presence in the hallway; it was the little boy.
"I came to say dinner's ready," the child informed.
"See, dinner's ready … it would be a shame not to have dinner if you leave now," the woman said, turning her attention back to Severus.
Severus frowned and glanced down the hallway to the place the kitchen must be. He really had no reason to stay, but he was hungry. It could not hurt to stay another night. It did not seem logical to think they would harm him, even though he hardly trusted them.
He stared down warily at the little boy. If he walked down the hallway, he was sure he would have to sit with them and eat. His frown deepened and that idea rooted him on the spot. He did not feel comfortable eating with these people.
The woman was watching him with an oddly intense gaze; he turned back to stare at her. She did not speak, but there was an evident desire in her eyes that he could not exactly comprehend.
"The newspapers," he said in a stiff tone. "You promised them to me," he insisted.
"If you want, I can bring a plate of food to you. Is that what you want?" she asked.
He made no reply because the child had taken a step closer and was also watching him intently, much like the mother did. It was starting to annoy him the way these two stared at him.
"Severus, it's alright if you do not feel comfortable," she began. "If you would rather read the papers and eat in peace, that's fine. We're not going to force you to the table to eat with us," she finished with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"I do not require your permission regarding when and where I eat," he said waspishly.
"I think you are misunderstanding my comments," she countered. "I did not think of it as me giving you permission. I was asking you what you wanted to do. A simple yes or no was all I would have liked from you," she charged.
"Yes," he replied curtly.
She walked over to the bedroom door, and waved her hand inside towards the desk where the newspapers still sat. She reached inside behind the doorway and light filled the room a second later.
"The newspapers are still there," she began evenly. "I'm sure you have noticed, but yes, we use electricity," she informed. "I'll bring you a plate of food in a few minutes."
She turned and headed down the hallway towards the kitchen. The little boy paused and watched Severus a moment longer before he turned and hurried after his mother.
Once they were gone, Severus moved inside the room and crossed over to the desk. He sat down and found that the chair was reasonably comfortable and to his liking. The desk was quite ornate with scroll carvings along the corners. The upper parts of the desk had many compartments filled with books, quills and new parchment. Scroll designs of wizards were also carved into the panels of the doors at the desk's center.
Severus thought he might like to investigate this curious desk, but instead he stared at the pile of newspapers; these were much more important. He picked the top one up and unfolded it in front of himself. He smoothed it out and scanned it briefly before he began to read.
It did not take Severus long to lose himself in the facts, details and information written out before him in black and white. He did not just read - he consumed the information like someone dying of hunger.
Reading had always been one of the simple things that gave him pleasure. It had started when he was very young. He had known he was different from other children even at a very early age. His mother had simply answered his question by saying, "You're a wizard."
It was all the explanation she must have thought he needed, but once he had learned to read and write, everything transformed for him.
Severus was no longer that nasty boy from Spinner's End, that ugly boy, that shabby boy. He was a wizard and when he found all his mother's old books, he read them ravenously. Being a wizard was important and special. Muggles did not have magic, but he had magic that made him special.
He had purpose and power; there must be a reason he was so special, he had thought in his youthful exuberance. He was sure he must even be exceptional even among wizards because of all the magic he did just by accident.
He devoured every book he found about magic or magical people. Most of his mother's books were schoolbooks and he read the spells, the potions, the diagrams. Everything he could get his hands on he would read over and over, learning the uses of magic even without a wand.
Severus knew he must be great and surely he was better than his father or even his mother; they did not see it and did not know it. If they had done, he was sure they would have treated him differently.
Then he met her, Lily. He had seen her do magic and knew she was like him, special. It had all been perfect, it was destiny. How had things gone so wrong for him?
"Severus … Severus, hello …"
He lifted his eyes to find the woman, the stranger. She had been calling his name and was standing there with a plate of food in one hand and a glass in the other.
She came forward and sat the glass down; he watched her curiously as she gave him a half smile. She then pressed her finger into the fancy scrollwork on the corner of the desk. Above the drawers on his left a wooden panel slid out slowly. She put the plate down on the new tray-like spot.
"It's a special desk … we call it a spy desk," she informed, her smile changing to a mischievous grin.
"Why is that?" he asked in a tone that suggested he had no real interest in knowing.
"Because no matter how long you have it, there are always secrets to be found," she informed sweetly. "I've worked out most of them, but there are still some I haven't found yet," she added.
"You must be so … proud," he said sarcastically glancing down at the food.
"When I figure all the answers out, I will be; till then it's an incomplete puzzle," she replied. "So, I'll let you get back to reading. Let me know if you need anything else," she commented as she turned and headed back towards the door.
"A name would be helpful," he announced once she was at the door. She stopped, gave him that same grin and then continued on out the door. "Bothersome tart," he muttered under his breath as he considered the food and the newspapers.
Be it cheeky and tart like, at least the service seemed on the verge of being acceptable. He could not remember the last time a human had brought food to him.
As he read and ate, he started to understand the sequence of events he had been unaware of: the final battle, those who lived and died, the joy and sorrow, and hints of deeper matters..
There was information that was reported after the battle, something about Potter speaking about him, Severus. His eyes widened when in the next paragraph it was hinted his connection to Lily. Also parts of the conversation between Voldemort and Potter were written out, what people had thought they said.
It was like a vast puzzle, since the reporters for the paper had to interview various people and the stories changed with each interview. It was apparent that Potter had spoken of him to Voldemort and that he confirmed to the Dark Lord that Severus had not been loyal.
It was obvious though that Harry Potter was, as usual, the hero of the day, vanquisher of the Dark Lord, savior of everyone. What Severus could not fathom was how it had really happened. He read something to the effect of Potter speaking of a certain wand to Voldemort, but it was unclear exactly what was said.
Severus had never had a special wand; how had Potter gained it, if that was indeed what had happened?
As he leafed through another paper, he scanned the photos: the castle in its damaged state, bodies of those who had died lined up in the Great Hall, people cheering and mass celebrations all over the magical community. Then there was one of the body of Voldemort lying on a floor in a shadowed room, looking almost unreal.
He scanned a page that held the list of all those who had died. He saw the names of Bellatrix and various other Death Eaters that he knew. Remus Lupin and his wife's names sprung out at him as he read.
As Severus continued to scan the list of fatalities, a cold chill broke out on him as he read his own name: Severus Snape - killed by Voldemort.
He dropped the fork into the plate, unable to eat another bite. He sat back in the chair and considered the papers he had already gone through.
The only notable names he did not see among the dead were Lucius, Draco or Narcissa Malfoy. Apparently they had escaped death and he wondered what their fate was.
He reached for the next paper and began to read, soon finding out that they did in fact still live. They had been questioned and it was revealed that Narcissa had lied to the Dark Lord. Potter had not been killed, but somehow the killing curse had again rebounded. Apparently in taking Potter's blood to make his new body, the Dark Lord had also gained Lily's sacrificial protection.
Severus frowned; even her love protected the man who killed her. Severus flung the paper away from himself and pressed his hand to his forehead.
How had he survived? How had these people come to bring him here and revive him?
"Bad news?" the voice came from the door. He turned to stare at the tart; she was standing in the doorway.
"What would you consider it to find your own name in the obituaries of a newspaper?" he muttered repressively.
She walked over and glanced down at the section of paper spread out on the desk.
"I read that … obviously a misprint," she teased. "We should write them a strongly worded letter and object," she added, grinning.
Severus simply stared up at her as if she had sprouted another head.
"You find this funny?" he asked coolly.
"Well, you might be one of the few that ever read they were dead in the paper. If not funny then there is a certain ironic humor to it," she implied. "Are you finished?" she added, pointing towards the plate.
He waved a dismissive hand to say that he was and that she could remove the plate. She took the plate and left; he assumed this meant he would be left alone to finish the newspapers.
She soon returned and began removing the blankets and sheets from the bed. A crease appeared between his eyebrows and he turned to glare at her.
"Do you have to do that now … and besides, why don't you just use magic and be done with it?" he complained.
She stared at him, her arms full of blankets and bedding and seemed very annoyed by his comment.
"Using magic is a clear way to draw attention to the house," she began. "We have been using as little as possible, considering what has been going on in the last year around this country. It doesn't make sense to go using magic for every little thing. Do you think I wanted my family tracked down by Death Eaters?" she asked defensively.
"There is one very old wizard living in town a block away from this house. He never comes out of his house and he isn't noteworthy enough to draw Death Eater interest. It was easy to live here quietly and do as little magic as possible … the magic could be easily blamed on him," she went on, appearing defiant.
"How exactly would that even work? The Ministry could find the right house if they wanted," he barked.
"There is a deflection and deception spell on the house. As long as we don't do a lot of magic, it makes anyone looking think it's coming from another house," she informed.
"A what spell? I've never heard of such nonsense," he muttered.
"Just because you haven't heard of it, doesn't mean it does not exist," she counted sharply. "Now, I'm going to put new sheets down and wash these so you will have a clean bed tonight. If me doing that bothers you, then you can sleep on the floor," she insinuated.
With that said, she turned and headed back out the door.
"I'll do all the bloody magic I want to do. I don't care what kind of nonsense you make up or … whatever spell you claim to have on the house," he said to her back. She stopped turned and stared at him from across the room.
"Be my guest … and when someone shows up to investigate the sudden explosion of magic at this location, you can explain it to them," she suggested. "I'm sure they'll be surprised to see you alive … probably they'll even want to bring Harry Potter down so he can pin a medal on your chest for your brave deeds," she went on in an arrogant tone.
"How dare you!" he cried, his face turning red. "Do not speak to me in -"
"Severus," she interrupted loudly. "Maybe you should skip ahead and take a look at the last newspaper. It'll explain a lot," she allowed, turned and walked out of the room.
"You little …"
He did not finish because the scandalous creature was gone. He made an involuntary noise of frustration. The tart was trying to play games with him, taunting him, being cheeky to him … bothering the hell out of him. He would hex her the next time she walked in the room.
Severus hastily hunted through the remaining newspapers to find whatever the woman was talking about.
Such childishness he had never seen in grown people: firstly they would not tell him their names, and the younger creature was…
On the last newspaper in the stack was a large picture of himself on the front page. The headline was: Severus Snape - Dumbledore's man or loyal only to Lily?
The photo of him was a recycled photo from when they had declared him Headmaster. He hastily began to read, glancing down at the picture lower on the page of Harry Potter speaking, apparently to the reporter who wrote the article.
Severus' face paled; he wanted to die … again.
The brat was recounting every one of Severus' own memories and telling them in exact unvarnished detail, almost word for word.
The moment he first met Lily, the private moment alone with her near the river. Everything was being played out like some depressive story meant to inspire feelings of sadness and pity. The memory of shame when he was hung upside down by James Potter and Lily had come to his rescue was recounted, now in print for all the world to see.
The desperation was revealed of him pleading with Dumbledore to save Lily; the betrayal of those who had trusted him was in black and white and available to anyone who could read it.
Every bit of truth about him was here, but the story went even further as Potter told of the years at Hogwarts. It was like some nightmare come alive.
As Severus finished the article, the last paragraph had some questions: 'How could one man be devoted for so long to the memory of one woman? Was he really ever loyal, or at the heart was he a Death Eater still?'
Harry Potter's answer: "He was just as brave as any Gryffindor I know, braver even. He deserves respect for giving his life. Maybe he wasn't always nice to us students, but that doesn't matter now. He died for the right side and he was the bravest man I ever knew."
Severus flung the paper away; so he was good enough to be a Gryffindor now!? Severus fumed internally; he wanted to find Potter and hex him too. He had not given those memories so they could be plastered so freely on the front page. He should have known better than to turn over his confessions to Potter. The little idiot! Severus thought he should go to Hogwarts right now and put a curse on the lot of them.
Somehow he knew it was her entering the room without looking over at the door.
"DON'T SAY ANYTHING!" he shouted.
"Would you mind not shouting like that?" she complained, "It's well past eleven thirty, Severus. Maybe you can prowl all night, but some people go to bed early in this house," she rebuked sharply. "Besides, I wasn't going to say anything. I figured reading that last paper would put you in a mood anyway," she added.
"P-put me in a mood!" he repeated as he turned in the chair to stare at her.
She moved around the bed, tucking in sheets and fussing needlessly with bedding, making it neat as she went; she even fluffed the pillows. Why do all that at this hour of the night if in a little while he would just mess it up again, he wondered.
"That is not necessary," he muttered as she finished and came to stand at the end of the bed.
"You don't want wrinkly sheets, do you?" she asked softly.
"I don't give a damn about the sheets," he complained.
She said nothing; she simply crossed her arms and stared at him indifferently.
Severus stood and stalked forward, eyeing her warily as he approached. She seemed to grow nervous and stood up straight. She tightened her arms across her chest and appeared on the verge of running away from him.
He turned his head slightly as he stopped in front of her. He narrowed his eyes and stared intently into hers, searching, hunting with his power to find what he wanted.
"Don't you dare do that!" she snapped and moved around him towards the other door. Severus turned swiftly to keep her from exiting into her own room.
"Explain, now," he ordered forcefully.
She stepped back away from him as he was blocking her. At first he thought sure she was going to try and go around him. Instead she simply took another step back and crossed her arms again; this time she looked annoyed instead of nervous.
"I want to know the truth of all this, so no more games," he insisted, keeping his eyes firmly locked on hers.
Severus did not know how she understood or expected his powers of Legilimency, but he felt sure that if he could keep her in one place long enough, his ability would reward him with some new information.
"It's late, we'll talk in the morning," she allowed.
"No, we will talk now," he pressed.
"Severus, even though you don't want to admit it, you look very tired. Can't it wait till in the morning … after you've rested?" she said and was attempting to sound friendly and concerned.
"I'm not tired," he muttered.
"I don't know what you're in such a hurry for. Wouldn't you rather have a good night's rest?" she asked passionately.
Why this delay? He could not account for all this stalling. The oddness of all this frustrated him; equally his physical reactions to her were starting to bother him. At this very moment he wanted to reach out and grab hold of her arm.
Severus was not sure why he wanted to grab her, he just did. The desire welled up more anger and defiance at her attempts to keep deflecting him.
"I wish to know the TRUTH!" he barked harshly.
She made a hissing sound that he should not yell. He did not care if the old woman and child were in bed, he needed answers and he was not getting them.
"I promise, I will tell you everything tomorrow," she announced and then without warning she slipped by him, hurrying over to the door to her room.
Severus got ready to go after her but decided against it. She had already moved into the other room and he watched as the door slowly closed behind her.
Now that he was alone, the feeling of being a caged animal assaulted him. He began to pace back and forth at the end of the bed, anger biting at him with every step.
Severus paused, realizing how foolish it was for him to let this silly woman annoy him. He could just leave, why worry about it? He did not owe them anything did he? He had not asked for their help. That is what he would do - when he saw her light flick off at the edge of her door, he would simply wait a little while.
Then, when he was sure everyone in the house was asleep, he would just leave. That was the best thing to do; surely it was the only thing he should do because there was no reason to stay.
--------------------------------------------------
It was a little while later that he crept through the dark house. He was curious to see the rest of it, but he decided to go to the left towards the room that appeared to have an exit door.
His eyes had adjusted enough that the streetlight outside gave him the ability to make his way carefully to the door.
It appeared to be a sitting room, with a fireplace and a few chairs and a sofa. He lit his wand, and glanced about. It was a comfortable-looking place and on one wall there were many books neatly lined up along with various other knick-knacks, pictures and oddities. It seemed a normal family room to him, filled with the collections of life most people came by over the years.
It did not matter, he would not be staying. He lowered his wand, extinguished the light and took the final few steps to bring him to the door.
As he reached for the doorknob, the room filled with light. Somehow he knew it was going to happen, even though he desperately hoped it would not. He should not have paused to look around; that was a mistake.