Chapter Six
Author's Note: I haven't been able to write this in a while, but my muse decided that she liked the story again, thankfully. I've finally got a good idea of where this is going. It only took how many chapters, right? Ah well, at least I've got it now.
Storm's fics have inspired me to include several flashbacks in this particular chapter. Oh joy! *grin* I need sleep.
* * *
Three days had gone by. Three days that had been pure torture for Snape. He was constantly questioning himself, wondering if he should indeed be doing something to work towards Minerva's freedom. That was, of course, assuming that she was still alive.
But for now, he would work under the belief, the desperate hope, that she was. And hope that he was right.
Voldemort, as insane and evil as he was, must have a motive. There had to be some reason for taking Minerva instead of killing her instantly when he'd had the chance. There had to be a reason... but what?
Was he going to ask for something, for an exchange of prisoners- Minerva for Harry Potter, perhaps...? No. The Dark Lord had given up on his crusade against the boy when it had failed the last time. Potter had not been the one to fell him, for the first time in ages. Dumbledore had. Perhaps he had even forgotten about the boy.
Then what? Severus could not think of a single bloody thing that Voldemort could gain by taking her, besides throwing the school once more into turmoil. But it wasn't like that was an odd occurrence. The students were used to attacks and sudden deaths as if they were ordinary happenings. Sad, really, but true.
So then WHAT?
Frustrated, he flung the goblet he'd been drinking from across the room so had that the metal cracked. But he gained no satisfaction from the act, and turned away to glare into the fire, as if daring it to attempt to attempt to leap from the hearth to burn him and further ruin his life.
He could have sworn that the flames died slightly under his cold gaze. But he didn't have much time to smile at the fact before a familiar burning coursed up his arm, consuming his entire body within seconds.
He staggered with the pain but did not fall this time. His right hand clasped over the Mark, gripping the area tightly as if by doing so it would suppress the pain. It never did, of course. But habits die hard.
The Mark. Voldemort. Burning. Death Eaters. Alexia. Minerva. Pain.
Little half-phrases raced through his mind, flooding him with memories and regrets.
// "Severus." The voice, with its usual coldness, stopped him in his tracks. He turned to face the Dark Lord, his eyes void of emotion.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"All is well?" He knew. He bloody well knew.
It took all of his willpower not to turn and flee into the forest, to allow his actions to reveal the truth. Instead, he nodded once. "Very well."
"As I'd hoped." Those icy green eyes met Snape's. "I would not wish to lose one of my most loyal followers, would I?" He knew. He had to know. The curse would come any moment now. He wondered if it were to be torture first, or immediate death. Most likely the former.
"No, my Lord." He met the gaze evenly, even if internally he was cringing in utter fear.
"Good." Voldemort stepped forwards to lay his hand on Severus' shoulder. The touch was as frigid as his eyes. "Remember always the Cause, Severus. Do not lose sight of what you joined me for, of what we fight for daily."
The Cause? What bloody cause... what damned fight? All they did was murder. Senseless murder... not only men, but defenseless women and innocent children. And he had been a part of that. The knowledge disgusted him, physically sickened him.
But he restrained his twisting stomach, forcing himself to respond. "Of course." Short, ridiculous answers, ones that he was sure were as transparent as glass.
But Voldemort only nodded at him with a twisted smile then turned away to some other task. "Good night, Severus."
For a moment, Snape could only stare at the dark wizard's back in disbelief. Then he turned and walked away with slow, steady steps... steps that gradually became jerky and hurried until he altered his pace to a jog, then a flat-out run. He ran until collapsing with exhaustion to the snow-covered ground, the flakes coating him with their pure whiteness- sharp contrast to his black hair, eyes, and robes.
But the snow was a welcome change from the darkness that he had just left, had left forever. He wanted to grab great handfuls of the glittering flakes and use them to scrub clean his sins, to bury himself in the snow until none of his blackness showed. He wondered if there was enough snow in the world for that.
Until then, he thought, let it snow. //
So many good-byes... some more painful than others.
// Albus Dumbledore was dead. He had watched at the life seemed out of him within a minute, had stood there and stared when he could have been doing something, anything. Not that he could have done anything, but to just stand there, until it was too late.
He stood there while all around him people were crying. Harry Potter, tattered and torn from the war, dropped picturesquely to his knees, burying his face in Dumbledore's robes to cry. But tears wouldn't bring the headmaster back, any more than any of Snape's potions would have.
So he simply watched as the world mourned, and when the last tear had fallen, Snape bent down to close his once-sparkling blue eyes, whispering, "Goodbye." //
Next to Dumbledore, Severus most owed thanks to Minerva. She had never shunned him, even when all the others had. While he had been confined in Azkaban, she had come with Albus to visit him, to give support to him when he had been on the brink of insanity.
He owed her so much. Serving as a professor had never, would never be enough to pay back either her or Dumbledore. Which was why leaving Hogwarts had been so horridly hard the first time.
// McGonagall sighed, clasping her small, thin hands together. "I understand and accept your resignation." With those words, he turned and made his way to the door, his dark robes billowing behind him. "But where will you go?"
He paused, glancing back at her. "I don't know yet."
They maintained eye contact for a few seconds before she stood and turned away from him, gazing out the window. "You will find your way, Severus. You always have."
"Thank you." The words were soft and low, but she heard them before the sound of the door closing covered them. //
Still, none of the farewells had been nearly as difficult as his most recent. Leaving Alexia had been damn near impossible, coupled with the knowledge that he might never return.
And yet, he had promised. An empty promise, he knew, but still, a promise that he was bloody well determined to keep.
// 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."
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." //
Merlin... so many good-byes. He hated good-byes. So this time, this time when he left, when he followed the fading burning on his arm, he would not say goodbye.
END CHAPTER SIX
Author's Note: I haven't been able to write this in a while, but my muse decided that she liked the story again, thankfully. I've finally got a good idea of where this is going. It only took how many chapters, right? Ah well, at least I've got it now.
Storm's fics have inspired me to include several flashbacks in this particular chapter. Oh joy! *grin* I need sleep.
* * *
Three days had gone by. Three days that had been pure torture for Snape. He was constantly questioning himself, wondering if he should indeed be doing something to work towards Minerva's freedom. That was, of course, assuming that she was still alive.
But for now, he would work under the belief, the desperate hope, that she was. And hope that he was right.
Voldemort, as insane and evil as he was, must have a motive. There had to be some reason for taking Minerva instead of killing her instantly when he'd had the chance. There had to be a reason... but what?
Was he going to ask for something, for an exchange of prisoners- Minerva for Harry Potter, perhaps...? No. The Dark Lord had given up on his crusade against the boy when it had failed the last time. Potter had not been the one to fell him, for the first time in ages. Dumbledore had. Perhaps he had even forgotten about the boy.
Then what? Severus could not think of a single bloody thing that Voldemort could gain by taking her, besides throwing the school once more into turmoil. But it wasn't like that was an odd occurrence. The students were used to attacks and sudden deaths as if they were ordinary happenings. Sad, really, but true.
So then WHAT?
Frustrated, he flung the goblet he'd been drinking from across the room so had that the metal cracked. But he gained no satisfaction from the act, and turned away to glare into the fire, as if daring it to attempt to attempt to leap from the hearth to burn him and further ruin his life.
He could have sworn that the flames died slightly under his cold gaze. But he didn't have much time to smile at the fact before a familiar burning coursed up his arm, consuming his entire body within seconds.
He staggered with the pain but did not fall this time. His right hand clasped over the Mark, gripping the area tightly as if by doing so it would suppress the pain. It never did, of course. But habits die hard.
The Mark. Voldemort. Burning. Death Eaters. Alexia. Minerva. Pain.
Little half-phrases raced through his mind, flooding him with memories and regrets.
// "Severus." The voice, with its usual coldness, stopped him in his tracks. He turned to face the Dark Lord, his eyes void of emotion.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"All is well?" He knew. He bloody well knew.
It took all of his willpower not to turn and flee into the forest, to allow his actions to reveal the truth. Instead, he nodded once. "Very well."
"As I'd hoped." Those icy green eyes met Snape's. "I would not wish to lose one of my most loyal followers, would I?" He knew. He had to know. The curse would come any moment now. He wondered if it were to be torture first, or immediate death. Most likely the former.
"No, my Lord." He met the gaze evenly, even if internally he was cringing in utter fear.
"Good." Voldemort stepped forwards to lay his hand on Severus' shoulder. The touch was as frigid as his eyes. "Remember always the Cause, Severus. Do not lose sight of what you joined me for, of what we fight for daily."
The Cause? What bloody cause... what damned fight? All they did was murder. Senseless murder... not only men, but defenseless women and innocent children. And he had been a part of that. The knowledge disgusted him, physically sickened him.
But he restrained his twisting stomach, forcing himself to respond. "Of course." Short, ridiculous answers, ones that he was sure were as transparent as glass.
But Voldemort only nodded at him with a twisted smile then turned away to some other task. "Good night, Severus."
For a moment, Snape could only stare at the dark wizard's back in disbelief. Then he turned and walked away with slow, steady steps... steps that gradually became jerky and hurried until he altered his pace to a jog, then a flat-out run. He ran until collapsing with exhaustion to the snow-covered ground, the flakes coating him with their pure whiteness- sharp contrast to his black hair, eyes, and robes.
But the snow was a welcome change from the darkness that he had just left, had left forever. He wanted to grab great handfuls of the glittering flakes and use them to scrub clean his sins, to bury himself in the snow until none of his blackness showed. He wondered if there was enough snow in the world for that.
Until then, he thought, let it snow. //
So many good-byes... some more painful than others.
// Albus Dumbledore was dead. He had watched at the life seemed out of him within a minute, had stood there and stared when he could have been doing something, anything. Not that he could have done anything, but to just stand there, until it was too late.
He stood there while all around him people were crying. Harry Potter, tattered and torn from the war, dropped picturesquely to his knees, burying his face in Dumbledore's robes to cry. But tears wouldn't bring the headmaster back, any more than any of Snape's potions would have.
So he simply watched as the world mourned, and when the last tear had fallen, Snape bent down to close his once-sparkling blue eyes, whispering, "Goodbye." //
Next to Dumbledore, Severus most owed thanks to Minerva. She had never shunned him, even when all the others had. While he had been confined in Azkaban, she had come with Albus to visit him, to give support to him when he had been on the brink of insanity.
He owed her so much. Serving as a professor had never, would never be enough to pay back either her or Dumbledore. Which was why leaving Hogwarts had been so horridly hard the first time.
// McGonagall sighed, clasping her small, thin hands together. "I understand and accept your resignation." With those words, he turned and made his way to the door, his dark robes billowing behind him. "But where will you go?"
He paused, glancing back at her. "I don't know yet."
They maintained eye contact for a few seconds before she stood and turned away from him, gazing out the window. "You will find your way, Severus. You always have."
"Thank you." The words were soft and low, but she heard them before the sound of the door closing covered them. //
Still, none of the farewells had been nearly as difficult as his most recent. Leaving Alexia had been damn near impossible, coupled with the knowledge that he might never return.
And yet, he had promised. An empty promise, he knew, but still, a promise that he was bloody well determined to keep.
// 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."
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." //
Merlin... so many good-byes. He hated good-byes. So this time, this time when he left, when he followed the fading burning on his arm, he would not say goodbye.
END CHAPTER SIX