Green. The towering oak trees of the forbidden forest. Overgrown grass beside the Cokeworth river, rustling in the breeze. Bushes they had once hid themselves behind. The fresh green of spring flowers, sprouting into life. It was the lightness, the liveliness. The painfully ever-present beauty of nature combined into one perfect shade. Flecks of brown, of the dirt in which plants once grew. Sunlight illuminating all of it and setting his chest alight. Green. He'd always associate it with her, with life.
Now it was ash. Thick smog hanging over Cokeworth, coating the buildings of the village. Foliage having fallen to the ground to rot, fertilizing the earth beneath it. The color of decay, destruction, abandoned worlds. Emerald eyes once twinkling now replaced with the vacant stare of death.
Her eyes had gone hazy. He tried to cover them, to force her eyelids closed, but it was pointless. That look would always haunt him. Her gaze having been fixated on a world he wasn't privileged to see. He cradled her close, trying desperately to press some of his own warmth back into her body.
His fingers were intertwined with hers. He brought her graying fingers to his lips, brushing gentle kisses across the surface of her knuckles. Indigo having seeped from her veins, into the surface of her skin just at the beds of her nails. How anyone could equate death to sleeping he would never understand, would always hate.
Severus drew in a shuddering breath, his body quivering with the intake. It was like breathing in shards of glass. Each crystal sliver imbedding itself in his throat. Every time he tried to speak, to move, to breath, they would slice him even further. Reminding him of what he'd lost.
An ugly sob escaped him. The kind that drew attention. The inhuman cries that bounced off the walls, filling his ears to the point that he wasn't sure they were his. He rocked her body in his arms. Face contorted in an unimaginable pain.
Slices of pain surrounded him, burrowing into his skin and cutting off all circulation. His lungs were frozen, the oxygen feeding his agony. He closed his eyes in a whimper, squeezing them past the tears that were staining his cheeks as he clutched her. He rocked; her body supported in her arms as he willed her back to life. "I love you…I love you…" His voice was little more than a murmur, rasped in the night.
Xxxx
The stone was rough beneath his flesh, the only barrier between it and Severus that of his own blood. Flickering light danced off the pool of scarlet as the torches lining the walls threatened to snuff out entirely.
The edges of the puddle grew blurry, almost indistinguishable from the black of the stone mingled with the darkness of the room. He wasn't sure if it was from the dim lighting or the blood loss growing deadlier by the second. He just wanted to close his eyes, to give into the exhaustion threatening to overtake him.
The last few hours swam dizzyingly in his brain. The curses, the vulgarity, the slashes they had made across his flesh, spilling the life-giving fluid to the floor. The warm, sticky liquid coated his skin still, biting back at the cold that threatened to settle inside him. He exhaled, emptying his lungs fully and casting ripples across what should have been inside of him. He couldn't find a desire to care.
His eyelids felt heavy, so heavy. They drifted close of their own accord before Severus was able to force them open again, if only for a moment. Each time he fought against it it became harder to stay awake, conscious, alive.
The fingers of his left hand clenched against the ground, the final fight leaving his body. His eyes focused on the bloody fingers, if only slightly, remembering where the rawness of his skin had come from. His wand had been taken, leaving only a physical fight. He was going to lose, he knew it. The Dark Lord knew what he had done. He had to inflect any sliver of pain that he was capable of. He was no match against the death eaters that had attacked back.
His eyelids closed again, dragged downward by an invisible string and this time he didn't fight it. He gave a shudder in the cold dungeon, his limbs trembling in the cold. He heard a frantic mumble, the sound of his name whispered distantly. The letters were sounded slowly, drowned out by his slipping consciousness. There was familiarity in the voice, something about it that meant "home".
He had seen Lily. Had held her body. It had felt so real, and now he wasn't sure. His head throbbed and he could feel the stiffness of his hair, having dried to his scalp. It blurred together, death creeping into his veins. He could no longer tell which part of his life was real, if he was alive at all. His eyelids were heavy, dragged down in pain. Then there were hands. Warm, pressed into his back, urging him to move. Any effort he had left was snuffed out by the movement, knowing this wasn't right. And then there was nothing.
Xxxx
"Severus." Her voice was urgent, pained. The sound of it wavered in emotion. His eyes gazed at her unseeing, unfocused. A darker black than she had ever seen. Then they had closed completely and that scared her even more.
His thoughts had flashed across his pupils, more exposed to her than ever before and she was able to catch snapshots of it. Lord Voldemort seething, a spell erupting from his lips and from his wand, sending Severus to the floor again and again. She had torn her eyes away, unable to see more. The state he was in told her all she needed to know, the blood draining seemingly from every pore.
She had rolled him from his stomach onto his back, desperate to staunch the worst of it.
"Harry, wall." Her voice trembled as she pointed and Harry obeyed, averting his gaze. Lily tore at the blood-soaked trousers that clothed him. Scarlet seeped from the fabric, staining her hands. She ignored the shock of it, pressing forward. There was too much. She was too late.
She undid the fastenings around his waist, tearing them down. She wiped at his skin with the hem of her sleeve, trying to see through the blood that wouldn't stop pouring from him. The red faded, soaking into her clothing and revealing the white of bone. The gash was deep, extending down most of his shin and several inches wide.
She gripped the pair of trousers in her teeth, tearing a long strip of pantleg off from it. With shaking hands, she slid it beneath his thigh, wrapping it tightly around in an attempt at makeshift tourniquet. What she wouldn't do for a blood replenishing potion, a wand.
The flow trickled to a stop and she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. He wasn't out of the woods. It was unlikely he'd survive, but this was something. She wiped at the rest of him, finding scrapes that were minor in comparison. She relaxed at the sight; the blood having made it appear that the wounds were more severe.
She undid the buttons of his shirt, her hands sliding beneath the fabric and to the flesh beneath. Dark purple had already formed beneath his skin, bruises lining his abdomen. His chest rose and fell, the movement too shallow. It concerned her. Another gash had been made just above his nipple, though she was sure with a few stitches it would heal.
She cleaned him as best she could, relief settling in her chest each time a wound was revealed to be minor. The last one that concerned her was that on his head. His hair had grown matted with blood clots and she peeled at the strands, trying to see what lay beneath. She was terrified of more stark, white. A wound she couldn't heal. If his head had an open wound, Lily knew she'd lose him for sure.
The hair was separated as gently as she could, not wanting to make anything worse. As she neared his scalp, a choke escaped her. She was unable to stop the tears from spilling over, flowing down her cheeks and dripping onto him. She covered her mouth with one hand, staring at the perfectly white flesh.
Lily leaned forward, her forehead resting on Severus' chest. Her shoulders shook with sobs as she clutched him tightly. "Don't leave me." She begged; her voice hushed for only him to hear. She lifted her head, placing a kiss to his unreciprocating lips before grabbing the clothing she had removed from him. She did her best to cover him, to provide him any privacy.
"Harry, come here, I need your help." She heard the scramble of trainers from where Harry had been seated, the quick footsteps across the solid ground as he approached. "He's gone into shock. We need to warm him if there's any chance of survival." Lily laid beside Severus, her arm draped across him and her body weight pressing into him. She was careful to avoid the damaged leg and instructed Harry to do the same.
Harry crouched in hesitation, sending a glance at the clear dark mark upon Severus' arm before back up at his mum. Lily shook her head, a frown deepening. Now wasn't the time for explanations, if she could even find one simple enough. An expression of hesitation formed on Harry's face, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows came together. Still, he laid on the cold ground, copying his mother's form.
The three of them lay in huddled silence, words of pleading, of bargaining echoing in Lily's mind. She didn't know how much time had passed in the almost pitch-black room, but they laid there for what felt like hours. She met Harry's eyes more than once, trying to send him a smile that was meant to be reassuring, to say all the words that were impossible for her to form.
She tried not to let her mind drift to Selvan, to where he was. He wasn't here, that was a good thing. That likely meant he was alive. Dumbledore had taken him, she was sure of it, but still the possibilities lingered in his mind. What if he'd been unable to escape the flame that had engulfed them? What if he had been taken, held elsewhere? But then, why was Severus here and not their child? It didn't make sense.
Instead, she envisioned the boy across from a fireplace, huddled beneath a blanket as Remus comforted him, told him everything would be okay. And she hoped it would. That the four of them would be a proper family, that they'd make it out of this alive.
Severus' appearance told her otherwise. His skin far too pale, much too cold. She could hear the muffled thump of his heart within his chest, signaling that he was alive, but for how long? During their time there, he didn't move, and she questioned what her ears told her, the rise of his chest as his lungs filled with air, never quite sure that what was happening was real.
Xxxx
Selvan had watched him leave the office so long ago that he began to wonder if he was ever coming back. He had fallen apart in the loneliness as the door slammed behind Severus. He had heard the click of the latch, the unmistakable sound of a locking charm.
He questioned the contorted look of pain, of surprise that Severus had quickly tried to hide, as if some grand idea had just occurred to him. Though Selvan couldn't hold it any longer, that he was happy to finally allow his sorrow to come to the surface and tears to flow, the solitude was crushing. It was far too quiet. He was terrified.
The castle was gigantic and from what he had seen, he was utterly, completely, alone. What if the Death Eaters came back? What if they decided to take him after all? He'd have no way to fight. In as much preparation as he could muster, Selvan had curled inside a plush armchair that was facing the door, his back to a wall. It gave him the advantage of seeing anyone coming, should that be a possibility. Even if he couldn't do anything about it.
Pythia had curled into his lap, purring as if this was a day's normal events. He stroked her silken fur absentmindedly, jumping at every snap of embers or creak of the dungeon. His nerves were destroyed, everything having set him on edge. And he remained that way, the second hand of a far away clock ticking away the time as his eyes scanned every surface, every personal belonging.
His eyes grew tired, the events of the day having exhausted him in reasons far more than energy. A gentle hoot sounded from behind a closed door, stirring something within him. It was something to focus on.
"There's an owl, in there." The deep voice reverberated inside his skull and he shifted. Pythia jumped to the ground at the movement, giving a hiss of protest as she sauntered away. Selvan's feet met the ground, a sudden realization filling him. That voice. He had known it was familiar. He scrambled from his seat, taking hesitant steps toward the door that Severus had indicated.
His hand fell on the brass handle and he turned it in hesitation, unsure of what he would find. His eyes landed on the owl, her ruddy color. The feathers on her forehead came up, her interest piqued. Her pale green eyes met his, her black beak cracking open. Another gentle hoot sounded and Selvan couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. "Freyja".
"You don't mind if I watch, do you?... It's always quite interesting to watch a boy get his first wand."
His hair had been red, cropped short. The black hair that dangled just above his shoulders was a stark difference, but the black eyes were the same, the voice.
He remembered his Mum's behavior that day. Her hurried glances around the alley, the distraction when they'd run into "Louis". They were the same man, Selvan was sure of it, but why did that matter? The excuse that it was an old classmate was flimsy now that he had collected the pieces. There was something else there.
He ignored the owl, turning his back on her and facing the rest of the room. His eyes fell on the drawers, on the possibilities of what he might find. He began tugging them open one at a time. Glass vials rattled inside one, some filled with various colors of liquids and others completely empty. Others still he found just clothes. He rummaged through a small stack of books at the bedside table, his hands falling on one that he recognized.
The binding was worn and cracked; the cover flaked. He ran a finger along the black cauldron on front, reading aloud. "Advanced Potion Making." Selvan flipped it open, staring at the yellow pages within. He skimmed them, page by page, reading every addition that had been made, every note of text. Some he assumed were spells, but none that he recognized. He made his way through the pages, pausing on the only near blank one so far.
In the corner was written only a couple simple words "Tonight?" The word had been written in the same spidery handwriting, nearly impossible to make out. Beneath it he recognized the cursive that belonged to his mother. "Yes."
The book was dropped with a thud, falling carelessly to the floor as his search became more frantic. He moved to the main area of the flat, the desk the only other option he could find. He opened the top most drawer, finding a picture of himself laying at the very top. Of him and Harry.
He remembered when this was taken. It had been just before Harry's first year of Hogwarts. His mum had insisted on the photo of the two of them and they had both accepted begrudgingly, their brotherly embrace ending as soon as it was snapped. Why did Severus have it? How?
He continued through the desk, throwing the contents out, looking for anything that might give him an answer. Gone was the careful search, trying not to disturb what he had touched. He had turned frantic, looking for any clue of this man that he hadn't even known exited. When he found nothing, he slumped on the floor in defeat.
Pythia approached him again, running the length of her body across his. He turned towards her, his hand resting on her fur. His eyes lifted with a sigh, staring at the bookcase as he pet the cat. Few of the titles he had heard of, most were entirely new to him. He wondered if any more of them would be filled with text, but there was such a vast number of them, he couldn't be sure.
His eyes read rows and rows of book titles, everything from fairytales to books about necromancy and blood magic. It was quite the collection and he had nowhere to begin. As his gaze reached the bottom row, Selvan found something crammed in beside "Moste Potente Potions". There was no title, not even a spine. Instead, it appeared to be a box.
He crawled the short distance toward it, pulling it from its location and slowly removing the lid. It was crammed with slips of paper, of notes with no meaning for him. He read the first couple, questions about meeting at a lake, beneath a tree, equations were scrawled on some and drawings on others. There were no signatures to tell him who they had come from, only the writing of before. The messy, quickly written words beside the curvy ones. Severus and his mum.
As he reached the last of the notes, he found something else. Hidden beneath all the scraps of parchment were photographs. Vibrant, waist length red hair, a broad smile, his mum. She was alone in most of them, happier than he had ever seen. In others she was accompanied by a black haired, brooding boy, not unalike the man he had met that evening. He slumped again, grasping one of them in his fingers, his mouth gaped open.
When this search had first started, he had expected to find embarrassing secrets if he found anything at all, not a treasure trove of Severus' past. He certainly hadn't expected to find his Mum mixed in with everything. Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place.
Xxxx
She thought he felt warmer, though she couldn't be sure. In all this time he hadn't stirred, hadn't moved a muscle, hadn't made a sound. She'd met her son's eyes all the while, unable to answer the questions she could still see inside them. Lily was thankful he had kept them to herself. She wasn't sure she could bare answering them now.
Severus' bleeding had stopped, though the puddle he laid in soaked all three of them. Their clothing plastered to their skin with his dried blood. His pale flesh was covered with bloody handprints – hers. Fingerprints had been left across his face where she had clutched him, begging him to come back, to wake up. Lily wanted to wipe them away, to return him to the person he once was, to take back the entire night.
She heard an unmistakable creak – breaking her from her thoughts – the sound of the door that lead to the outside world, the one she, Harry, and even Severus had been brought through. She glanced up, meeting nothing but a silver, skull like mask and she knew what she had to do.
Xxxx
A/N: Alright, alright, put down your pitchforks. No, no, the fire isn't necessary either.
