The night is young, my heart is jumping in my chest and I can hear footsteps outside on the stairs.

Someone comes up here? Why would anyone come up here? I am nothing that someone would want to see or talk to, not now anyway. All that they will find is me, lying on the floor, too weak to put forth the effort to live, they will see me. Or the shell of what I once was. All of my life I have struggled through, persevered, fought tooth and nail to keep a grip on the world around me, and now I am alone once again, thrown to the wolves of my own twisted mind. A prisoner of my own body, a captive to the pain that rips through me, so vivid that I awake, screaming. But no one ever hears, so whose foot falls are outside my door? The knob turns slightly, but the door does not open, I am suddenly wondering, what will they see when they walk in. I have not seen myself in years, too afraid of what I may have become to peer into the mirror that hangs on the wall, always turning my head away from it. But now I force my shaking legs to move, force myself to look at the face in the mirror.

It is an ashen, sickly face that hints of the insanity that I fight daily, I don't want someone to see this! I reach to touch the skin, it feels strangely distant, as if a face, not mine but belonging to someone else. It seems that nothing is, as it should be... And I am trapped in a beige, colorless hell of a room, a place so lonely and forgotten that I am tempted to cut myself, if only for the color that I will see with it. I see the door start to open, a figure step inside, he looks younger than me, much younger than me. But the way his eyes inspect the room with a cool, calculating stare tells me that this is a man that knows the world. He turns his eyes on me, they are a nice silver, flecked with a bit of red, he has that bit of color, although that is the only color he has, the rest of him is dramatic blacks and grays. I am worried, and yet fascinated by this dark man. He smiles at me, an expression I have neither seen nor felt in many years. He walks smoothly over towards me and kneels to look at me, not a trace of disgust or pity in his eyes. Slight empathy, but I don't mind it.

"Severus Snape." He whispers, my name on his lips sounds strange to me, no one that I can remember has called me Severus. He reaches out and brushes my hair out of my eyes. His fingers send a slight shiver through me, human contact, after all these years, is a blessing, as if god has looked at me one more time. His skin is soft and cool agasnt my burning cheeks.

"Come with me Severus, you are too valuble to waste away, insane and alone. I will save you if you come with me." He whispers, even fighting the demons, I know him, somehow I know him. His name is not to be spoken, yet how can one who is so gentile be as evil as they say he is? Or do they lie about that, just like they lie about everything else.

"I will." I whisper the first true word I have said in two or three years. He nods and helps me to stand, I am slightly taller than he is, but somehow, this does not allow me to look down at him, he is too... Majestic to be looked down on. Is that the word I am looking for?

"Good... I can make you into something more Severus, just trust me." He swears his voice like silk over water, soft and appealing. I am drawn to his easy way. Somehow, I know that I need protection and that he can provide it. He leads me outside, into moonlight and for the first time, I feel some humanity drain into me. His nearness seems to drive away the pain of living and replace it with an optimism that cannot be taken away. He gently leads me into a car, driven by a Muggle and I know that I have nothing to fear. Even if he knows what I am, I think that he can understand me more than anyone else could. And maybe he can understand the plight, of being a half Dementor.