Title: Minnaloushe Part 9

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Same as before.

"Mrowr?"

Snape sat in the arm chair by the fireplace reading a thick book about the practical
applications of dried lizard lips. February was a horrible time of year in the dungeons.
The cold and the dampness were intolerable. He spent most of his free time in front
of his fireplace, just to avoid becoming ill.

"Mrowr-rowr?"

The book he was reading now was particularly interesting. He'd rarely ever used lizard
lips in his potions. They typically went bad after three days and were easily compensated
for by other ingredients in most potions, but this book held a wealth of uses for lizard lips
that Snape had never before considered. He might try some of the potions with his
advanced class...

"Meeeoooowwww!"

"Come here Shadowfax. what do you want?" Snape didn't look up from his reading
as he called the cat. She really was a cat now. She no longer had the round, helpless look
that most kittens had. She wasn't fully grown yet, but her body had lengthened, her legs
and neck had grown longer, and her eyes and ears no longer looked ridiculously big for her
face. Her light gray fur had darkened into a deep silver with dark gray stripes. She was
quite a striking cat and she knew it.

"Meow! Wrowr! Grrrrrow!"

She was also stubborn and set on having things her own way, something she learned from
Snape. Snape rolled his eyes and balanced his book carefully on the arm of his chair. He
walked over to Shadow, who had positioned herself next to the door. He placed his hands on
his hips and glared down at the cat in what he hoped was an intimidating fashion.

"What?"

Shadow was not impressed. She looked at him coolly, and then at the door.

"What, you want to go out?"

Now there's an astute observation.>

Somewhere in the past few months, Snape had fallen into the habit of mentally filling in
Shadow's side of the conversation based on her facial expression. He was hardly even aware
of doing it anymore unless it drew odd looks from other professors and students.

"What do you do when I let you out of the room anyway?"

Try and take over the world.> Her tail swished back and forth impatiently now.

"Oh, fine. Get out then, and I don't want to hear you crying to come in in another ten
minutes." He opened the large oak door, and Shadow went bounding out of sight.

He shook his head as he closed the door and returned to the warmth of the fireplace. He
picked up his book and read through nearly an entire page before realizing that he had no
idea what he just read. It was getting late and his mind was drifting. Instead of trying to force
himself to concentrate, he let his thoughts wander. He stared into the shifting light of the fire
and listened to the comforting popping and crackling sounds. Of all the things in his quarters,
he liked the fireplace the best. He watched lazily as the warm glow cast flickering patterns
across the floor, on his robes, and even on his hands. He closed his eyes and let the heat
touch his pale skin in small gentle waves. For nearly an hour he balanced on the edge of sleep
in total comfort and relaxation.

Snape was shaken violently out of his daze by blinding white pain. A hot coal had jumped
from the fire, landing on his arm. He jumped out of his chair brushing and swiping at the
offending coal in panic. It took him nearly a minute to realize that there was no coal at all.
He froze, taking in deep steadying breaths to calm himself down. He knew what he'd find
when he drew back the sleeve of his robe. He'd find a mark, like a brand glowing red on the
inside of his wrist.

He pulled up his sleeve anyway, snarling at the dark mark. Why was Voldemort calling him
now? He hadn't been summoned since early October, and that was just to set up a communications
channel so that Snape could send regular reports about Dumbledore and the ministry.

The pain in his arm grew, but he bit back the urge to cry out. Instead, he made his way to the
door. It creaked and scraped against the floor as he pushed it open. It always happened like that.
Sounds seem louder, colors seem brighter, and the winter seems much colder when the dark mark
is burning your arm. Snape thought for certain that the opening door would wake the whole school.

"Shadowfax!" It was barely more than a whisper, but it sounded like an angry roar. "Shadow,
are you out there, you stupid cat?" There was no answer. Snape shook his head and ducked back
inside. She'd just have to spend the night fighting with Mrs. Norris then. He didn't have time to
chase after her. He grabbed his heavy cloak and his broom from the stand beside the door and
left as quietly as possible.

With the black cloak on and the lights in the hallway dimmed for the night, Snape seemed
more like a shadow than a person. He swooped down one corridor, then another as silently
as the snow outside. Despite his fears that each footstep would bring a horde of curious students
to him, he made almost no sound.

Outside of the school, Snape mounted his broom and took off through the forest. The night
air bit at his face and great wet snowflakes clung to his eyelashes.

God help me.> He thought as he avoided tree branches and underbrush. The forest was
difficult enough to navigate during the day on a broom. At night, it was down right hazardous.
It took all of his concentration to make it to the edge of the forest without being caught be some
mischievous limb.

Snape's feet touched down in the deepening snow with a soft thud. He propped his broom
up against a tree and walked the few extra feet outside of Dumbledore's apparition ward. He
took one last look at his arm. The dark mark was now a glowing, angry red. He wanted nothing
more than to thrust his entire arm up to the shoulder into the cool snow that surrounded him,
but there was no time for that.

Without another thought, he apparated.