Darkness.

Close your eyes, Sevi, the light is bright.

Memories.

Lenore, why did you leave me?

Darkness. A speck of light in a corner. A candle, Severus could see. Someone had moved him, his head lay at an angle. There was a single glowing ember in the hearth, yet the room was warm. Darkness out one window, the waxing moon not so very high. Books were sprawled over the desks, nightstands and floor. One book had been left open, its pages rustling in the faint breeze from a crack in the window. The title of the page leapt out at him.

Nerve relay failure

His eyes scanned down, picking out the lay-wizard's terms. Often due to prolong exposure…Cruciatus curse a factor…failure of brain commands relayed to muscles via the nerves…therapy largely sought…often permanent to some degree…

…often permanent…

…permanent…

He cut off the moan that threatened to escape him, squeezing his eyes shut. Damn Voldemort! Well, a voice said quietly, he wasn't all to blame. But why, oh why make it permanent? Was his service not good enough once to warrant death at the Dark Lord's hands?

No. His betrayal was too great to simply kill off. His death would serve no purpose. His suffering would.

He hadn't heard anyone enter, but someone's hand brushed across his forehead. "Severus?"

He didn't move, hoping that they would presume that he still slept and leave him be. The hand came back, tapping his cheeks gently. "Come on, Severus. I know you're awake. You can fool Mother with that routine, but not me."

His eyes flew open and he gasped. Sitting on the edge of the bed, long black hair spilling down past her waist was Lenore Snape. She looked as she had when she had graduated Hogwarts when he was 8 years old. She was just as he remembered her.

But she was dead.

Dead, and yet, here. He could hear her breathing, feel her hand on his face where it rested, felt her weight pressing down on the mattress.

He felt…

"You'll feel better in the morning, Sevi, trust Lenore on that. The doctors say you'll heal. Though climbing that roof had been a very stupid thing. Mother was nearly hysterical."

The roof? Oh, that roof. Eight year Snapes were not known for their calm, clear-headedness. Child taunts, dares, and name calling (was I ever that young?) landed him first on the 3 story roof, then quickly into his mother's herb garden. He'd shocked his system quite a bit, and hadn't been able to move for days. Lenore had stayed with him til he could get up.

"You need to sleep," she was saying softly. "Close your eyes, Sevi. Let me sing you to sleep."

Some part of him rebelled. He was a grown man who did not need a lullaby. But his eyes were already closed, his ears catching the words. He felt sleep crash over him once more, pulling him into its sweet black folds.