Part Three
Willow fell asleep under crisp cotton sheets listening to the music of crickets. And she dreamed a dream and remembered. She remembered Ira Rosenberg from whom she inherited her vibrant red hair; she remembered Xander and Jesse. Summer days and elementary school. And when she woke up, it was with tears on her face and tears for what she had left behind fresh on her face. While Madam Pompfrey was sleeping she got up out of bed and left the infirmary to wander the halls. It was there that she saw him again. He had been one of the people who had crowded around her when she had woken up. The man who ran this establishment said that his name was Severus, Severus Snape. He was at the far end of the hall looking out through a moonlit window. He was handsome, in an intense odd sort of way.
She could see his profile from where she stood. His nose while hooked gave his face definition and his hair, that some people might describe as greasy was just rather. shiny. He was tall and from the way he held himself Willow imagined him to be muscular under his robes. But for all that he looked about as miserable as a person could be, he seemed so sad. And though for some reason she instinctively knew she shouldn't Willow's empathy which was always in overdrive clicked into hyper drive. She wanted to erase the way he looked. And just where in the hell did that come from? Okay, yes he did look rather unhappy. And yes, Willow was always doing things like this.or she thought she was.she remembered having Xander stay the night at her house three or four days a week until they hit puberty because she was afraid that he would run away like he had when they were nine. But wait! That wasn't possible, when she was nine she had lived in Liverpool with her uncle after her fathers' death by he-who-must-not-be- named. Willow frowned how was this possible. How was she possible? And what was she doing at Hogwarts? How had she gotten here?
Her hands reached up to her temples and clutched there. She had woken up here.how? Why couldn't she remember anything after her ninth birthday? No wait, her tenth eleventh.the memories collided with each other and Willow fell to the floor screaming, her hands still clutched at her temples. She didn't see Snape whip around, his face filled with confusion as he ran towards her and by the time he had scooped her up from the ground and was working his way towards the infirmary, she had lost consciousness.
Dumbledore was there waiting by the time Snape arrived. He hadn't the stamina to carry her across the entire campus so instead she was floating midair as he hurriedly pushed her along. Madam Pompfrey took her quietly to her bed and gave her a potion for a dreamless sleep. All the while clucking about people getting out of their beds at all hours of the night when they should be resting. "Severus what happened?"
"Willow.-How do I know her name?" Dumbledore looked back at where willow was now sleeping. "How indeed?"
Willow fell asleep under crisp cotton sheets listening to the music of crickets. And she dreamed a dream and remembered. She remembered Ira Rosenberg from whom she inherited her vibrant red hair; she remembered Xander and Jesse. Summer days and elementary school. And when she woke up, it was with tears on her face and tears for what she had left behind fresh on her face. While Madam Pompfrey was sleeping she got up out of bed and left the infirmary to wander the halls. It was there that she saw him again. He had been one of the people who had crowded around her when she had woken up. The man who ran this establishment said that his name was Severus, Severus Snape. He was at the far end of the hall looking out through a moonlit window. He was handsome, in an intense odd sort of way.
She could see his profile from where she stood. His nose while hooked gave his face definition and his hair, that some people might describe as greasy was just rather. shiny. He was tall and from the way he held himself Willow imagined him to be muscular under his robes. But for all that he looked about as miserable as a person could be, he seemed so sad. And though for some reason she instinctively knew she shouldn't Willow's empathy which was always in overdrive clicked into hyper drive. She wanted to erase the way he looked. And just where in the hell did that come from? Okay, yes he did look rather unhappy. And yes, Willow was always doing things like this.or she thought she was.she remembered having Xander stay the night at her house three or four days a week until they hit puberty because she was afraid that he would run away like he had when they were nine. But wait! That wasn't possible, when she was nine she had lived in Liverpool with her uncle after her fathers' death by he-who-must-not-be- named. Willow frowned how was this possible. How was she possible? And what was she doing at Hogwarts? How had she gotten here?
Her hands reached up to her temples and clutched there. She had woken up here.how? Why couldn't she remember anything after her ninth birthday? No wait, her tenth eleventh.the memories collided with each other and Willow fell to the floor screaming, her hands still clutched at her temples. She didn't see Snape whip around, his face filled with confusion as he ran towards her and by the time he had scooped her up from the ground and was working his way towards the infirmary, she had lost consciousness.
Dumbledore was there waiting by the time Snape arrived. He hadn't the stamina to carry her across the entire campus so instead she was floating midair as he hurriedly pushed her along. Madam Pompfrey took her quietly to her bed and gave her a potion for a dreamless sleep. All the while clucking about people getting out of their beds at all hours of the night when they should be resting. "Severus what happened?"
"Willow.-How do I know her name?" Dumbledore looked back at where willow was now sleeping. "How indeed?"