Chapter Three
Author's Note: //'s imply flashbacks, dreams, memories... whatever applies. I'm starting to not like this fic much... I was so excited about it at first... but now... eh, not so much. But I'll keep going on it as long as my muse allows me.
* * *
// He had forgotten what it had been like to be happy. Perhaps the last time had been as a child, on his birthday or some other holiday. But then his happiness had come from innocence to the ways of the world. He could not go back to that, and so had thought that he would never be happy again.
But then he saw her.
She was certainly no raving beauty, the kind that men stopped and stared at on the street even when she had a bad hair day. But she was certainly beautiful, with an irresistible allure that drew him to her immediately.
He had been at a restaurant, eating by himself in the furthest corner. His eyes had followed her around the restaurant to a table near his. Quietly sipping from the coffee cup held carefully in his long fingers, he studied her.
She hadn't noticed his fixed stare for quite awhile, as she herself was absorbed in a book- Jane Austen's 'Sense and Sensibility,' he believed- and turned her eyes away from the pages only to make sure that she set her tea down on the table without knocking it over. He found it amazing how she could concentrate so intently, even with the commotion of the coffeehouse going on around her.
It took him even longer to realize that she had noticed him, that her piercing blue eyes were fastened on his black ones with coy interest. When he did notice, he nearly choked on his coffee. She smiled bemusedly before flipping the page and going back to her book.
A few more minutes passed, as he watched each page she turned out of the corner of his eye, before he convinced himself to rise from his seat and approach her table. He lowered himself into the chair across from her and set down his coffee cup. She glanced up at him over the top of her book. "Hey."
He cleared his throat. "Hello."
She placed a bookmark in the volume and set it down in front of her. "My name's Alexia Johnson."
He had to resist a smile. The girl was just forward enough to suit him. "Severus Snape."
She took a long drink of tea, her eyes sparkling at him all the while. "Pleasure to meet you, Severus."
Those eyes were what drew him the most. They held a vastness of intelligence, emotion, and warmth. Strangely enough, at he regarded her smiling eyes he felt for the first time in a very, very long time... happy. He allowed himself to return the smile. "Likewise." //
Screams tore at his ears, pained, horrible screams. Faces of the dead flashed across his vision, leering at him, screaming accusations. The burning in his arm spread to his whole body, setting it aflame. He writhed against the sensation, moaning softly for it to stop. He wasn't sure if he were awake or dreaming, alive or being tortured in some twisted hell. He clawed blindly at the Mark, wanting nothing but to rip it from his skin.
"Severus." The voice came softly, sweet to his tortured ears. Her touch followed it, cooling his burning skin where her fingers lay. He felt his body instinctively relax beneath her soothing presence. The burning, while it didn't cease, contented itself to focus on his arm alone, giving up its control of his mind.
"Severus?" came her voice again, concerned and anxious.
He reached out for her, capturing her hand in his and holding onto it. "I'm sorry," he whispered, opening his eyes to gaze at her.
"For what?"
"For everything." He pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the wall. She kneeled next to him, brow knitted in concern. His eyes met hers. He had to tell her the truth, no matter how much his mind screamed at him not to. "I have not been entirely truthful to you, Alexia."
He saw the fear that flashed across her eyes. He could almost read her thoughts. Apprehensions of his loyalty, love, and devotion all assaulted her with his words. "What... what do you mean?"
"It has nothing to do with you, trust me. It is about me... well, who I am." His eyes fell. "What I have to say may sound... unlikely, to say the least. But you must believe me, Alexia." She didn't say anything, but gave a slow nod. He reached again for the trunk, drawing it onto his lap and inserting the key. He could feel tiny wisps of magic escape through the keyhole, as if the contents had been locked up for too long and were desperate to escape. Slowly, he opened the trunk and stared at the contents.
All were exactly as he had left them, screaming the plain facts of his past to him. "Alexia... I am a..." he touched his wand, and his fingers curled instinctively around it, "a wizard."
Her lips parted slightly and her brow furrowed more. He didn't blame her for her shock. If their roles were switched, he would have felt the same. "Severus, I..."
"Shh, don't speak. I know, it sounds like I've turned into a... how do you say it... nutcase, but I haven't. As much as I want to forget it, magical blood runs in my veins." He almost smiled at her look of utter disbelief. Poor thing... she didn't deserve this. Not on the night before she was to be married. "You don't believe me."
"It's not that-"
He held up a hand. "Yes it is. But look." He raised his wand, pointing it at his hand. "Orchideous." A great bouquet of fragrant flowers bloomed from the tip of his wand. He gathered them in his hand and offered them to her with a crooked smile. "For you."
She stared blankly at the flowers for a minute before hesitatingly accepting the gift. "Thank you... but... um, how?"
He had to smile. In fact, he wanted to laugh, to let loose and roar with deep laughter at the absurdity of the whole situation. But he contented himself with a smile. "Magic, love, magic." She looked as if she wanted to respond, but thought better and sat back on her heels with an unreadable expression. "I suppose you want more explanation then that, correct?" He gestured to his wand. "This is my wand. I have had it since I was a mere child and it was far too big for me. Without it, my magical abilities are greatly reduced." Now for the real shocker. "And this," he rolled up his sleeve to display the vivid black Mark, "is no tattoo."
She reached out to touch it. "What happened to it? It's... different."
"When I was young... very young and very stupid, I might add, I joined forces with a man called Tom Riddle. He was a dark wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort. I thought that if I sided with him, I would be powerful and indestructible. I thought I would find wealth and respect. But..."
"You didn't," she finished for him.
"Precisely. I found death and lies and pain... not exactly what I was looking for." He covered up the Mark and focused on her. "So I became a spy for a man named Albus Dumbledore, a double-agent. A few years later, Voldemort died... or at least, came very close to it. But the creature wasn't truly dead. He came back to power and started the second war, a war that ended when both he and Dumbledore were sent to the grave. But now..." he trailed off, staring at where his Brand lurked beneath a guise of thin material.
"He's come back?"
"I believe so." His voice was a whisper, the sound barely audible in the small attic.
Her eyes searched his. "But what does that mean?"
"I do not know. But he wants me back, at least I'm assuming so due to his persistence in calling me. He knows I am a traitor to the Cause, which means he will kill me on sight." He stared off into space for a minute. "But I have to go back. Not to him... but to Hogwarts."
Her voice was timid now, more so than he had ever heard it. "Tonight." He nodded regretfully. "Can I come with you?"
He drew her close, wrapping her thin frame in his warmth. "No, Alexia. It's far too dangerous for a Muggle." She glanced up at him, confused. "A non-magical person, forgive me." He kissed the top of her tousled hair. "You have to stay here."
"And you'll come back." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, a few degrees shy of an order.
There was no need to worry her now with the impossibilities of the situation. "I'll come back to you."
"Good," she whispered into his chest. "I love you."
His breath caught in his chest as the realization dawned on him. He would not be married to her tomorrow. He would be returning to Hogwarts to face the Dark Lord again. And this time, Dumbledore would not be on their side.
He cupped her chin in his hand and brought her face up to his. "I love you," he answered back. "Do not ever forget that, no matter what happens." He reached for the Potions book in the trunk and tore off a corner. He took the quill that lay between the pages and scribbled something on the scrap of paper before pressing it into her hand. "If you ever need anything, or if you are ever in trouble... come here."
"Alright," she responded softly, her hand tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer for one long, last kiss.
Once her lips left his, he pointed his wand at himself, whispering, "Apparo."
She was left holding nothing but the flowers, the petals now damp with her tears.
END CHAPTER THREE
Author's Note: //'s imply flashbacks, dreams, memories... whatever applies. I'm starting to not like this fic much... I was so excited about it at first... but now... eh, not so much. But I'll keep going on it as long as my muse allows me.
* * *
// He had forgotten what it had been like to be happy. Perhaps the last time had been as a child, on his birthday or some other holiday. But then his happiness had come from innocence to the ways of the world. He could not go back to that, and so had thought that he would never be happy again.
But then he saw her.
She was certainly no raving beauty, the kind that men stopped and stared at on the street even when she had a bad hair day. But she was certainly beautiful, with an irresistible allure that drew him to her immediately.
He had been at a restaurant, eating by himself in the furthest corner. His eyes had followed her around the restaurant to a table near his. Quietly sipping from the coffee cup held carefully in his long fingers, he studied her.
She hadn't noticed his fixed stare for quite awhile, as she herself was absorbed in a book- Jane Austen's 'Sense and Sensibility,' he believed- and turned her eyes away from the pages only to make sure that she set her tea down on the table without knocking it over. He found it amazing how she could concentrate so intently, even with the commotion of the coffeehouse going on around her.
It took him even longer to realize that she had noticed him, that her piercing blue eyes were fastened on his black ones with coy interest. When he did notice, he nearly choked on his coffee. She smiled bemusedly before flipping the page and going back to her book.
A few more minutes passed, as he watched each page she turned out of the corner of his eye, before he convinced himself to rise from his seat and approach her table. He lowered himself into the chair across from her and set down his coffee cup. She glanced up at him over the top of her book. "Hey."
He cleared his throat. "Hello."
She placed a bookmark in the volume and set it down in front of her. "My name's Alexia Johnson."
He had to resist a smile. The girl was just forward enough to suit him. "Severus Snape."
She took a long drink of tea, her eyes sparkling at him all the while. "Pleasure to meet you, Severus."
Those eyes were what drew him the most. They held a vastness of intelligence, emotion, and warmth. Strangely enough, at he regarded her smiling eyes he felt for the first time in a very, very long time... happy. He allowed himself to return the smile. "Likewise." //
Screams tore at his ears, pained, horrible screams. Faces of the dead flashed across his vision, leering at him, screaming accusations. The burning in his arm spread to his whole body, setting it aflame. He writhed against the sensation, moaning softly for it to stop. He wasn't sure if he were awake or dreaming, alive or being tortured in some twisted hell. He clawed blindly at the Mark, wanting nothing but to rip it from his skin.
"Severus." The voice came softly, sweet to his tortured ears. Her touch followed it, cooling his burning skin where her fingers lay. He felt his body instinctively relax beneath her soothing presence. The burning, while it didn't cease, contented itself to focus on his arm alone, giving up its control of his mind.
"Severus?" came her voice again, concerned and anxious.
He reached out for her, capturing her hand in his and holding onto it. "I'm sorry," he whispered, opening his eyes to gaze at her.
"For what?"
"For everything." He pulled himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the wall. She kneeled next to him, brow knitted in concern. His eyes met hers. He had to tell her the truth, no matter how much his mind screamed at him not to. "I have not been entirely truthful to you, Alexia."
He saw the fear that flashed across her eyes. He could almost read her thoughts. Apprehensions of his loyalty, love, and devotion all assaulted her with his words. "What... what do you mean?"
"It has nothing to do with you, trust me. It is about me... well, who I am." His eyes fell. "What I have to say may sound... unlikely, to say the least. But you must believe me, Alexia." She didn't say anything, but gave a slow nod. He reached again for the trunk, drawing it onto his lap and inserting the key. He could feel tiny wisps of magic escape through the keyhole, as if the contents had been locked up for too long and were desperate to escape. Slowly, he opened the trunk and stared at the contents.
All were exactly as he had left them, screaming the plain facts of his past to him. "Alexia... I am a..." he touched his wand, and his fingers curled instinctively around it, "a wizard."
Her lips parted slightly and her brow furrowed more. He didn't blame her for her shock. If their roles were switched, he would have felt the same. "Severus, I..."
"Shh, don't speak. I know, it sounds like I've turned into a... how do you say it... nutcase, but I haven't. As much as I want to forget it, magical blood runs in my veins." He almost smiled at her look of utter disbelief. Poor thing... she didn't deserve this. Not on the night before she was to be married. "You don't believe me."
"It's not that-"
He held up a hand. "Yes it is. But look." He raised his wand, pointing it at his hand. "Orchideous." A great bouquet of fragrant flowers bloomed from the tip of his wand. He gathered them in his hand and offered them to her with a crooked smile. "For you."
She stared blankly at the flowers for a minute before hesitatingly accepting the gift. "Thank you... but... um, how?"
He had to smile. In fact, he wanted to laugh, to let loose and roar with deep laughter at the absurdity of the whole situation. But he contented himself with a smile. "Magic, love, magic." She looked as if she wanted to respond, but thought better and sat back on her heels with an unreadable expression. "I suppose you want more explanation then that, correct?" He gestured to his wand. "This is my wand. I have had it since I was a mere child and it was far too big for me. Without it, my magical abilities are greatly reduced." Now for the real shocker. "And this," he rolled up his sleeve to display the vivid black Mark, "is no tattoo."
She reached out to touch it. "What happened to it? It's... different."
"When I was young... very young and very stupid, I might add, I joined forces with a man called Tom Riddle. He was a dark wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort. I thought that if I sided with him, I would be powerful and indestructible. I thought I would find wealth and respect. But..."
"You didn't," she finished for him.
"Precisely. I found death and lies and pain... not exactly what I was looking for." He covered up the Mark and focused on her. "So I became a spy for a man named Albus Dumbledore, a double-agent. A few years later, Voldemort died... or at least, came very close to it. But the creature wasn't truly dead. He came back to power and started the second war, a war that ended when both he and Dumbledore were sent to the grave. But now..." he trailed off, staring at where his Brand lurked beneath a guise of thin material.
"He's come back?"
"I believe so." His voice was a whisper, the sound barely audible in the small attic.
Her eyes searched his. "But what does that mean?"
"I do not know. But he wants me back, at least I'm assuming so due to his persistence in calling me. He knows I am a traitor to the Cause, which means he will kill me on sight." He stared off into space for a minute. "But I have to go back. Not to him... but to Hogwarts."
Her voice was timid now, more so than he had ever heard it. "Tonight." He nodded regretfully. "Can I come with you?"
He drew her close, wrapping her thin frame in his warmth. "No, Alexia. It's far too dangerous for a Muggle." She glanced up at him, confused. "A non-magical person, forgive me." He kissed the top of her tousled hair. "You have to stay here."
"And you'll come back." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, a few degrees shy of an order.
There was no need to worry her now with the impossibilities of the situation. "I'll come back to you."
"Good," she whispered into his chest. "I love you."
His breath caught in his chest as the realization dawned on him. He would not be married to her tomorrow. He would be returning to Hogwarts to face the Dark Lord again. And this time, Dumbledore would not be on their side.
He cupped her chin in his hand and brought her face up to his. "I love you," he answered back. "Do not ever forget that, no matter what happens." He reached for the Potions book in the trunk and tore off a corner. He took the quill that lay between the pages and scribbled something on the scrap of paper before pressing it into her hand. "If you ever need anything, or if you are ever in trouble... come here."
"Alright," she responded softly, her hand tangled in his hair as she pulled him closer for one long, last kiss.
Once her lips left his, he pointed his wand at himself, whispering, "Apparo."
She was left holding nothing but the flowers, the petals now damp with her tears.
END CHAPTER THREE