Chapter 14
"… memory is the only way home."
-Terry Tempest Williams
Christopher spared one glance at the boy's garish Muggle outfit and ran, knowing that without a wand, he was defenceless. A part of him rebelled against running away like a coward but the logical side of his mind prevailed.
Luck, however, was not with him. He turned the first corner he saw and belatedly realized that it was a dead end.
Christopher swore under his breath and started to turn around when he heard the sound of a single set of footsteps approach the mouth of the alley.
There was nowhere else to go. He was trapped. Determined to put up whatever fight he could, Christopher spun around. The young man stepped forward confidently, a sneer twisting his youthful face.
"What do you want?" growled Christopher, his long fingers twitching instinctively towards his sleeve for his own wand.
The young man glared and pointed his wand at Christopher's chest. "Don't play dumb, Professor Snape. We have to go. Now."
Professor.
Christopher's mind whirled. Perhaps he had been a teacher and this boy had been his student. If so, maybe some lingering respect for authority would still sway him….
Christopher straightened to his full height and looked down his nose at the youth. "I'm not going anywhere," he hissed contemptuously, eyes flashing. The teenager hesitated a brief moment, uncertainty making his wand-hand waver slightly. Christopher's brief flare of triumph was interrupted by a searing pain that exploded on his left forearm.
He's calling… must leave… must… my Master…No!
"NO!" he shouted audibly above the pain. The young man, his eyes wide with genuine fear, was clenching his left forearm as well and, stepping back, he disappeared with a soft *pop*.
Through the burning pain, Christopher managed to register one fact: people could, and did disappear into thin air at will.
* * *
Wearily, Christopher entered the fourth story flat belonging to his temporary caretakers. The pain in his left forearm had eventually faded to a dull throb but he still clutched it with his other hand, as if that would somehow alleviate the pain.
"Christopher? Is your arm hurting?" Maggie looked up worriedly from the piano where she had idly been playing a soft, relaxing tune.
"No," he replied quickly, dropping the offending arm to his side. "It itches." The lie fell smoothly from his tongue and Maggie seemed to believe it as she turned back to the keyboard. He watched her for a moment, envying the simple life she and her husband led. Michael enjoyed writing stories for children and Maggie found purpose in volunteering her piano playing skills at the local church. Their lives would go on quietly, undisturbed for the most part and peaceful. Unless…
Christopher stood and watched a moment longer, than walked slowly to his room. The open door of the closet beckoned to him and he reached in to touch the robes hanging elegantly in a spill of ebony fabric. Slowly, as if by some force not his own, he reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out his wand. He raised the wand, clutching it in his hand like a talisman. He stared at the robe again and then back at the slender wand. Slowly, something rose through the blank void of his memory…
"I am Professor Severus Snape, a wizard," he said quietly to the empty room.
* * *
An hour later, Snape paused in the living room before his final departure of the good people who had been so generous in opening up their home to an injured man who didn't even know his own name.
He inhaled deeply and stepped towards the door.
"Christopher? Where are you going?" Maggie's quizzical voice cut through the silence like a knife.
Snape winced. He had hoped to leave unnoticed. It would have been better that way… but it can't be helped now…
He turned and Maggie frowned at something she saw in his face. It looked suspiciously like despair…
"I've remembered my name and I'm going home." That wasn't strictly true. He had only remembered his name and even that wasn't much. They were merely two words; one meaning 'strict' and the other sounding suspiciously like 'snake' but it was the biggest victory over his lost memory that he had. 'Home' would be a place safely away from the Childe's where the teenagers and whoever they were working for wouldn't find him…
Maggie's face brightened, smoothing out the fine lines on her face. "Your name? That's wonderful! What is it? Michael and I would love to visit you."
Snape looked straight into her eyes, deciding to offer her the truth… the little he knew of it. "Mrs. Childe," he began slowly, making sure she understood, "I am a… I am dangerous to have around. I'm not sure what kind of trouble I'm in but the less you know the better."
"Trouble?" she repeated quietly, worry filling her eyes. "What kind of trouble? Perhaps you can go to the police?"
Snape shook his head, causing long black strands to fall over his eyes. "The police would do no good. They'd only endanger themselves." She started to protest again and he scowled, his patience wearing thin. "I'm leaving for your benefit! I do not know everything about myself yet, but I will go to a safe place where I can get help." Maggie stepped back, startled. With an effort, Snape forced his voice to be calm. "You have been very generous to me, Mrs. Childe, but please trust me on this. You do not want someone like me around for much longer."
Maggie closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, a strange, understanding clarity in her eyes. "Is there anything else I can do for you before you leave?"
Snape's heart constricted. If only his childhood memories had included a person like her…. "Forget me," he said simply and walked out the door.
"… memory is the only way home."
-Terry Tempest Williams
Christopher spared one glance at the boy's garish Muggle outfit and ran, knowing that without a wand, he was defenceless. A part of him rebelled against running away like a coward but the logical side of his mind prevailed.
Luck, however, was not with him. He turned the first corner he saw and belatedly realized that it was a dead end.
Christopher swore under his breath and started to turn around when he heard the sound of a single set of footsteps approach the mouth of the alley.
There was nowhere else to go. He was trapped. Determined to put up whatever fight he could, Christopher spun around. The young man stepped forward confidently, a sneer twisting his youthful face.
"What do you want?" growled Christopher, his long fingers twitching instinctively towards his sleeve for his own wand.
The young man glared and pointed his wand at Christopher's chest. "Don't play dumb, Professor Snape. We have to go. Now."
Professor.
Christopher's mind whirled. Perhaps he had been a teacher and this boy had been his student. If so, maybe some lingering respect for authority would still sway him….
Christopher straightened to his full height and looked down his nose at the youth. "I'm not going anywhere," he hissed contemptuously, eyes flashing. The teenager hesitated a brief moment, uncertainty making his wand-hand waver slightly. Christopher's brief flare of triumph was interrupted by a searing pain that exploded on his left forearm.
He's calling… must leave… must… my Master…No!
"NO!" he shouted audibly above the pain. The young man, his eyes wide with genuine fear, was clenching his left forearm as well and, stepping back, he disappeared with a soft *pop*.
Through the burning pain, Christopher managed to register one fact: people could, and did disappear into thin air at will.
Wearily, Christopher entered the fourth story flat belonging to his temporary caretakers. The pain in his left forearm had eventually faded to a dull throb but he still clutched it with his other hand, as if that would somehow alleviate the pain.
"Christopher? Is your arm hurting?" Maggie looked up worriedly from the piano where she had idly been playing a soft, relaxing tune.
"No," he replied quickly, dropping the offending arm to his side. "It itches." The lie fell smoothly from his tongue and Maggie seemed to believe it as she turned back to the keyboard. He watched her for a moment, envying the simple life she and her husband led. Michael enjoyed writing stories for children and Maggie found purpose in volunteering her piano playing skills at the local church. Their lives would go on quietly, undisturbed for the most part and peaceful. Unless…
Christopher stood and watched a moment longer, than walked slowly to his room. The open door of the closet beckoned to him and he reached in to touch the robes hanging elegantly in a spill of ebony fabric. Slowly, as if by some force not his own, he reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out his wand. He raised the wand, clutching it in his hand like a talisman. He stared at the robe again and then back at the slender wand. Slowly, something rose through the blank void of his memory…
"I am Professor Severus Snape, a wizard," he said quietly to the empty room.
An hour later, Snape paused in the living room before his final departure of the good people who had been so generous in opening up their home to an injured man who didn't even know his own name.
He inhaled deeply and stepped towards the door.
"Christopher? Where are you going?" Maggie's quizzical voice cut through the silence like a knife.
Snape winced. He had hoped to leave unnoticed. It would have been better that way… but it can't be helped now…
He turned and Maggie frowned at something she saw in his face. It looked suspiciously like despair…
"I've remembered my name and I'm going home." That wasn't strictly true. He had only remembered his name and even that wasn't much. They were merely two words; one meaning 'strict' and the other sounding suspiciously like 'snake' but it was the biggest victory over his lost memory that he had. 'Home' would be a place safely away from the Childe's where the teenagers and whoever they were working for wouldn't find him…
Maggie's face brightened, smoothing out the fine lines on her face. "Your name? That's wonderful! What is it? Michael and I would love to visit you."
Snape looked straight into her eyes, deciding to offer her the truth… the little he knew of it. "Mrs. Childe," he began slowly, making sure she understood, "I am a… I am dangerous to have around. I'm not sure what kind of trouble I'm in but the less you know the better."
"Trouble?" she repeated quietly, worry filling her eyes. "What kind of trouble? Perhaps you can go to the police?"
Snape shook his head, causing long black strands to fall over his eyes. "The police would do no good. They'd only endanger themselves." She started to protest again and he scowled, his patience wearing thin. "I'm leaving for your benefit! I do not know everything about myself yet, but I will go to a safe place where I can get help." Maggie stepped back, startled. With an effort, Snape forced his voice to be calm. "You have been very generous to me, Mrs. Childe, but please trust me on this. You do not want someone like me around for much longer."
Maggie closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, a strange, understanding clarity in her eyes. "Is there anything else I can do for you before you leave?"
Snape's heart constricted. If only his childhood memories had included a person like her…. "Forget me," he said simply and walked out the door.