It had occured to Severus, somewhere in the dreamy womb of unconciousness, that pain is among the first recognitions of life. An infant feels it as it's ripped untimely from its mothers stomach, similarly, a mother feels it as she gives birth to life. And now he himself felt it, acidic drops serrating his flesh, hurtling upon each pore with malacious accuracy.


He was sitting, oddly crunched, his chin burrowing into the hollow of his throat, his long legs somehow avoiding the hypothermic downpour, and his mouth gaping and recieving unwanted tokens of freezing rain.


He could clearly discern there was something cushioning him, something spritely and alive, a warm and forbidden scent tendriling out, avoiding the deadly drops, and making its cautious way towards his nose. There were hands beneath his ears, thumbs massaging the sensitive spot where the orifice of his ear began to close.


There was another sting on his face; a hot mingle of the two temperatures trying to conquer each other. The warm liquid slid down his face, and from the convulsions of whomever was cradling him, Severus believed it to be tear drops.


His eyes were too swollen to open, and his stomach felt dense and empty. He wanted to simply die beneath the cold stream, the numbing frostiness of whatever was drowning him.


He lay still, letting hisc muscles uncoil themselves, letting his body distend. He was aware of a growing void within him, an emptiness that would suddenly strike him, punctuated as a curled fist, up his ribs, straight into his heart.


Severus' eyes opened slowly, unfocused, the world a milky, colloidal blaze. He let his head roll, the lines of the tile pressing insistently on his face. The girl was shivering, and probably blue underneath him, the taut slab of her belly convulsing regularly with contained shiver.


Her eyes were above his own, hazy brown particles of concern. Her lips were moving, but Severus simply lacked the energy to hear her. He wanted to stare in wan perfection of her tiny, rosebud mouth, shaping some distant, and mystic language he had all but forgotten.


Wake up. Please, please, please. Severus Snape, wake up. Oh, Christ, don't die. Please don't be dead.


Her fingertips sought his chest, where her hand flattened out and became a mauve spider above his ashen chest. He felt like he was dead, hovering between the very precarcious line of complete coma and sudden awakening. This time, despite how many imminent times he would come to spite himself for this decision, he chose to rise.


His conciousness revealed itself by him suddenly jolting up and taking deep, ragged breaths. His lungs sounded terrible, the delicate and membraenous tissues blocked by sickness. She did a half leap, as best she could, for the shower could barely contain half of him. He was on his belly again, navel brushing over rusty gates of drain, feeling each preforation as if he had imbibed sensii insanmnia potion. He groaned, glossy baritone overspilled by unflattering sputters.


The girl had already turned off the water, and was dragging him out, her breasts once again pressed to him, her mouth simply seeking any part of his face, laying grateful and devotional kisses upon each centimeter of skin.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.


She couldn't stop repeating herself, sounding hysterically orgasmic. He nodded,his head almost cracking against the floor once again. He draped an arm over her, and tried to raise himself, but found his legs simply lacked the stamina. His body had undergone innumerable batterings, but none quite so shocking as this. She was weeping into his hair, inhaling the fumes of his much-disputed raven mane.


You're alive. You're alive. You're alive.


Seveurs noted dryly that when women of any assortment were elated or ecstatic, their verbal function seemed to serve no purpose.


.


He whispered this to hear, coaxing her by gently putting a hand on her hip. He closed his eyes, and the endless trip he had envisioned was over in a matter of a few half-awake seconds.


She laid him down gently, crawling atop him and pullling the covers over both of them. His body lacked strength to warm even his own pitiful self up.


Severus discovered that they were in the same devastatingly intimate positioned that had propelled him to such desperate measured a mere day ago.


Can you speak?.


She whispered this into his ear, his neck immediately prickling at the warmth of her breath. He nodded.


Barely. I feel as if I've vomited up the entire solar system.


His stomach heaved weakly, mocking mirth. She laughed, but there was a guilty tinge of fear to her voice.


Were you dead?.


She asked this wonderously, as if she had not just come through the same and equally terrifying ordeal. He would have rolled his eyes, had it not pained him so.


No. Unconcious. Revived in large part to your rather jolting medical skills.


Severus Snape was born with a dollop of sarcasm ingrained so deeply within him, it was inextractable, even when facing death.


What happens now?.


She had uttered the dreaded question that he had no idea how to answer. What did happen next? What could she do with a magic that was coupled with a blackness that had overpowered her blood? That had robbed her of a heart, and a sister?


I suppose we just sleep it off.


He had said this in jest, but was aware of a fast approaching fatigue that was threatening the dim horizons of his eyes. He relaxed, finally feeling her warmth.


Do you want me to stay?.


He was proud, but not foolish.


He tucked an arm around her waist, and she snuggled into him, ignoring the eerie similarity of the temperature of his skin, to that of a corpse.































A/N: Sorry for delays. School started up again and I'm a bit overwhelmed. Anyways, I apologise so much because I've been an arse about updating and whatnot. I just hope people will return to the story.