Chapter Two
* * *
He couldn't do it. He couldn't open that box. To open it would be to give up on the past three years, to go back to his life at Hogwarts, to his past as a Death Eater. Here, at least, he was free from that. People didn't know him as that. He was simply another person, living from one day to the next without a speck of magic and about to marry the best thing that had ever happened to him.
His fist gripped the lock. He couldn't. He would just ignore the call, ignore the burning, and go back to bed. Voldemort would never find him here, not in a thousand years. The Dark Lord would never dream of looking for Snape here, living as a ridiculous Muggle.
He breathed a sigh of relief. That was it. He would go back to bed and tomorrow, he would wake up just like he had done for the past three years, with coffee instead of Pepperup Potions. He would kiss Alexia good morning and open the daily paper. He would read about the sports and peruse the stock market updates. Then he would put on a tuxedo, drive to the church, and be married.
It was that simple.
He would be married, and he would put away all memories of Hogwarts and magic and Dumbledore and Potter and most especially, of Voldemort. They would not exist to him anymore. It was not of his concern. Let them all deal with Voldemort. They had done just fine before without him.
'But back then,' came the annoying little voice in his head, 'they had Albus.'
Albus. He had made all the difference in the world, as eccentric as the old Headmaster may have been, always complaining about socks and such.
His nails dug into the wooden trunk. Merlin, what he wouldn't give to be able to hear Dumbledore complain about his bloody socks once again... the memories would drive him mad.
His eyes widened. The memories... that was it. That was the key to it all. He would perform a Memory Charm on himself and make himself forget it all. Then he could truly live a normal life, a life without magic, without memories. A perfect life, in his mind.
Content with his decision, he tugged at the lock, for the first time realizing that he didn't have the key. "Dammit, open!" He needed his wand, if only for one last time. "Come on..." He tugged again, to no avail, and finally thrust the small trunk against the wall with all his might. Not even a splinter came off. "Bloody hell."
"Severus!"
He whirled to see Alexia leaning against the floor, still halfway on the stairs. She was frowning. He cringed, realizing too late that he'd been a bit... noisy. "Sorry..."
"Sorry? I think I need a bit more explanation than that for why you're up here in the middle of the night causing enough noise to wake the neighborhood." Her tone was severe, but her eyes still sparkled at him.
He glanced at the trunk lying against the wall. "It's... difficult to explain."
She climbed up the remainder of the stairs and sat down by him, reaching out a slim hand to lay on his knee. "Try me."
He gave a soft smile. "Really, you don't want to know." Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. "Trust me."
"I do. But tell me anyway." He shook his head. "Severus, I'm going to be your wife tomorrow. That means no secrets between us. Now, there has to be some reason for all of this. Please, love... tell me."
The ex-wizard fell silent for at least a minute, staring at the trunk. What could he say to her that could possibly make her understand? "I am not quite sure how to explain, at least with mere words." He stood and picked up the trunk. "I need the key to this trunk... then I can at least show you." He leaned back against the wall, sliding down it to a seated position, not trusting his legs to keep him upright. "The key is in the drawer of the nightstand."
Without a word, she turned and disappeared down the stairs. A few minutes later, she was back, holding an antique key in her hand. She held it out to him. "Is this it?"
Slowly, he nodded, reaching out to take the key from her. The metal, cold as it was, seemed to burn his hand with magic that had been lying dormant in it for so long. But he forced himself to hold onto it as he stared at the trunk on his lap.
She knelt on the floor next to him, resting her pretty head on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Severus? Tell me, please. I want to help."
He shook his head, bracing himself as he felt his Mark begin to burn again. "You can't help me... no one can."
Within seconds, he was lost to the pain.
END CHAPTER TWO
* * *
He couldn't do it. He couldn't open that box. To open it would be to give up on the past three years, to go back to his life at Hogwarts, to his past as a Death Eater. Here, at least, he was free from that. People didn't know him as that. He was simply another person, living from one day to the next without a speck of magic and about to marry the best thing that had ever happened to him.
His fist gripped the lock. He couldn't. He would just ignore the call, ignore the burning, and go back to bed. Voldemort would never find him here, not in a thousand years. The Dark Lord would never dream of looking for Snape here, living as a ridiculous Muggle.
He breathed a sigh of relief. That was it. He would go back to bed and tomorrow, he would wake up just like he had done for the past three years, with coffee instead of Pepperup Potions. He would kiss Alexia good morning and open the daily paper. He would read about the sports and peruse the stock market updates. Then he would put on a tuxedo, drive to the church, and be married.
It was that simple.
He would be married, and he would put away all memories of Hogwarts and magic and Dumbledore and Potter and most especially, of Voldemort. They would not exist to him anymore. It was not of his concern. Let them all deal with Voldemort. They had done just fine before without him.
'But back then,' came the annoying little voice in his head, 'they had Albus.'
Albus. He had made all the difference in the world, as eccentric as the old Headmaster may have been, always complaining about socks and such.
His nails dug into the wooden trunk. Merlin, what he wouldn't give to be able to hear Dumbledore complain about his bloody socks once again... the memories would drive him mad.
His eyes widened. The memories... that was it. That was the key to it all. He would perform a Memory Charm on himself and make himself forget it all. Then he could truly live a normal life, a life without magic, without memories. A perfect life, in his mind.
Content with his decision, he tugged at the lock, for the first time realizing that he didn't have the key. "Dammit, open!" He needed his wand, if only for one last time. "Come on..." He tugged again, to no avail, and finally thrust the small trunk against the wall with all his might. Not even a splinter came off. "Bloody hell."
"Severus!"
He whirled to see Alexia leaning against the floor, still halfway on the stairs. She was frowning. He cringed, realizing too late that he'd been a bit... noisy. "Sorry..."
"Sorry? I think I need a bit more explanation than that for why you're up here in the middle of the night causing enough noise to wake the neighborhood." Her tone was severe, but her eyes still sparkled at him.
He glanced at the trunk lying against the wall. "It's... difficult to explain."
She climbed up the remainder of the stairs and sat down by him, reaching out a slim hand to lay on his knee. "Try me."
He gave a soft smile. "Really, you don't want to know." Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. "Trust me."
"I do. But tell me anyway." He shook his head. "Severus, I'm going to be your wife tomorrow. That means no secrets between us. Now, there has to be some reason for all of this. Please, love... tell me."
The ex-wizard fell silent for at least a minute, staring at the trunk. What could he say to her that could possibly make her understand? "I am not quite sure how to explain, at least with mere words." He stood and picked up the trunk. "I need the key to this trunk... then I can at least show you." He leaned back against the wall, sliding down it to a seated position, not trusting his legs to keep him upright. "The key is in the drawer of the nightstand."
Without a word, she turned and disappeared down the stairs. A few minutes later, she was back, holding an antique key in her hand. She held it out to him. "Is this it?"
Slowly, he nodded, reaching out to take the key from her. The metal, cold as it was, seemed to burn his hand with magic that had been lying dormant in it for so long. But he forced himself to hold onto it as he stared at the trunk on his lap.
She knelt on the floor next to him, resting her pretty head on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Severus? Tell me, please. I want to help."
He shook his head, bracing himself as he felt his Mark begin to burn again. "You can't help me... no one can."
Within seconds, he was lost to the pain.
END CHAPTER TWO