The world was dark. No sound. No light. No warmth. Blackness. Was he
breathing? He didn't know.
"Hush...shh.still asleep." a voice from far away. Gentle. A little warmth.
But distance took him again. A lapse in time and space. So far from his own body, his own voice. So vulnerable.
"I think I saw him stir.shhh.let him rest." the voice again. A connection in the dark. He felt a slight pressure on his brow. A soft hand, lain across his forehead. A tender touch.
A dim light, and the voice seemed not so far away. A dim golden light, blurred. Growing slowly. He felt his eyes open barely, so sore, so sensitive.
Severus could not move. He felt the blackness of nothing disappear as he came into his own body again. Noises were dull and few, the light still dim and blurred. But he began to feel himself breathing again. The hand lifted from his forehead. But through the murkiness, he saw a human figure sitting above him.
He knew nothing now, nothing but the simple concepts of light and dark, touch, movement, and breath. He had no memory nor conscious though of where he was, nor how he had come to be there.
"Shh.." the same voice repeated. A woman's voice. So soothing. He let himself fall under the influence of his current state. He didn't fight his wavering unconsciousness. He struggled only to fill his lungs. "It's okay, it's alright. We're going to take care of you. You're going to be just fine."
Severus was becoming more aware now. Still, he could not move his body. He could not yet see clearly, only fuzzy shapes, and some light. He wanted to ask where he was, what had happened to him. He wanted to know who, exactly, was "taking care of him." Why did he need to be taken care of? Why was he constantly being reassured that he would be alright, as if the chance had been slim?
He felt a pain shoot up through his spine, all the way to the base of his neck, like an electric shock. He winced, though not noticeably, as he was still incapable of rigorous movement. He felt the hand once again on his forehead, brushing away careless strands of hair.
But his memory, along with the feeling and energy, started to come rushing back to him. He was able to open his eyes wider, the pain in his spine diminished, and very stiffly, he moved his arms and legs.
He remembered falling - well, more precisely, he remembered flying. He remembered a huge noise, a flash of great light. He remembered death, and fire. The war. The dark lord.
He remembered a horse. A giant, black beast. He remembered riding with all of his might, racing the sun, drawing his wand.then.nothing.
The room he was in became more and more visible to him. It was small, poorly lit, with a few oil lamps, and a small fire. It was almost like a dungeon, but it was more like - a cellar. He heard pipes creaking and groaning. Certainly a basement of some kind. He saw little or no furniture. He himself was laying on a very flat mattress, and he just now realized that he was draped in blankets. He still felt the damp, bitter cold, however.
He turned his gaze toward the person directly in front of him. A young woman sat at his bedside, the owner of the voice, and the gentle hand. But she was in a significant amount of shadow. He could only see the outline of long hair, and a slender form, but her face was hidden in darkness.
Finally, he attempted to speak, but in taking a great breath and trying to form words, he felt his chest seize, and he broke into a coughing fit.
"It's okay...you'll be alright," the young woman repeated. Severus's coughing calmed, and he was able to whisper the words he'd been trying to.
"Where.where am I? Why.what happened?"
"He's awake! He's talking," another voice exclaimed, from farther away. A woman's voice also, but more high-pitched and slightly irritating.
"Quiet," the first voice reprimanded. Much more soothing on the ears than the second. Then, she continued. "Severus, you had quite an experience. It's a miracle you're alive." ('Clearly,' thought Severus bitterly to himself, 'she doesn't know me.') " If you hadn't touched that portkey"-
"Portkey?"Severus demanded hoarsely. Who was this woman, and what on earth was she talking about?
"Let me go back. I'll explain what has happened to you. But first, my name is Christine Brindle. I was there that night, the night that the dark lord took the castle."
Severus, though still groggy, listened intently. This woman Christine knew him. She knew his name. She knew of the war.but spoke of it as if it had happened long ago.
"What day is it?" Severus inquired, almost frightened to hear the response. Had he died? Had he been born again?
"Today is Sunday. Two weeks since the day you came to us here. You've been close to death for so long.but he told us to take care of you, keep watch over you. He values you very much."
A new flood of questions filled the professor's mind, mainly now about who 'he' was. Not knowing where to begin asking, he kept silent, and allowed Christine's voice to wash over him as she continued with her story. He wanted to see her face, but it was still a shadow. He felt a sort of nervous energy about her.and in the back of his mind, he half suspected Christine to be Lord Voldemort himself, in sheep's clothing.
"Severus, two weeks ago, the dark lord took Hogwarts castle. You saw the was with your own eyes. You knew from the start, I'm sure, that it was hopeless. Many on our side were killed. I think he may have lost a few death eaters, but there was no comparison. The battle ended with a Triple Collision: a combination spell of all the unforgivable curses. As you know, that spell, though very difficult to perform, is one that ends in complete destruction and death. I had seen the course of the fight, and presumed that Voldemort would use this curse to, well, finish us off. So a few of us left. We escaped using a portkey we'd set up beforehand as a precautionary, just outside of the castle's threshold. Dumbledore was saved, just in time, actually. He is with us.
"You must have been thrown by the blast. You know the Triple Collision ends in enormous noise and light, a quite explosive reaction. Few rarely survive such a thing. You must have been just far enough away, and you hit that portkey at just the right time. The portkey was, well, a corpse. A dead auror, lying on the ground, a few feet away from the Hogwarts doors. The only thing Voldemort and his armies wouldn't want to destroy - something they'd already killed." Severus almost grinned at this cleverness, had it not been so morbid. "You were transported here. You are in Edynhall. This is our last secret haven. We are far underground now. That is why it is so cold. We are in the basement of a very nondescript muggle house. But, you will see, it has grown into something of an intricate city. This is where we hide, planning our liberty, gaining our strength. Everyday, more refugees are admitted." Christine's voice became filled with passion, and Severus listened intently, understanding more now. He was in a shelter, a hidden place. Edynhall, she had called it. And Dumbledore was still alive. He now knew how incredibly lucky he himself had been. He wondered how many were left.how many still lived to defy the dark lord. "I know you Severus, because Dumbledore told us who you are. He explained," she stopped here, but Severus knew she had seen his dark mark, and that Albus had "explained" it. "He told us how valuable you are. He gave us charge over your wellbeing. We lost hope, we thought for certain that nothing could bring you back. But here you are."
Severus took all of this in carefully, in a state of mild shock. Hogwarts was taken. He had barely escaped death, and was now forced into hiding. He had been dead to the world for two weeks. But he was alive.
Slowly he began to sit up, barely aware now that two others stood in the room, one a woman, the other a man. Things were becoming progressively clearer, and the room seemed to brighten, as if a cloud had been lifted. He heard another voice from the opposite end of the room, along with the sound of a door creaking open.
"Brindle, urgent matters," a grave voice announced. Someone, a man, obviously, had just entered the room. "Council wants to see you at once."
"Okay, night," Christine said calmly, standing from Severus's bedside, and turning away from him. A dancing flame from the fire threw a splash of light on her, but only for a second. But it was enough for Severus to recognize that she was attractive. Dark, but attractive. The light vanished, and she was once more a shadow.
"Christine." the other woman began sadly.
"I know, Marisol. But I must go. Until - until our next meeting, then. Severus, I apologize. Our encounter was brief. There is more to explain, I'm sure you have questions. This," motioning to the other woman in the room, "is Marisol. She's been helping me take care of you. As has Dylan." The man beside Marisol. "I must go now," she repeated, " Maybe.we'll meet again." Her voice trailed off, and she spun on her heel in the direction of the door, a black leather cape swishing wildly behind her. Two sets of footsteps, going off toward the dark. Christine left with the man called Knight. The door slammed shut, and the room grew silent again.
Severus felt his joints seize as he moved his stiff, weary legs. Though still cold, he threw the blankets off and sat at the edge of the mattress. He was seeing clearly now, though his head was swimming. Marisol and Dylan approached him. He noticed how kindly everyone had been treating him. Quite unusual. He mainly owed this to the fact that the only things they knew about him were from Dumbledore, who rarely said a negative word about the worst of people. Also, his comatose state had made it impossible for him to sneer, scoff, or make any type of sarcastic comment within the past two weeks. They didn't know him at all.
"I know this is a difficult time for you," Dylan said softly. He stood with Marisol, bathed in firelight. Severus was able to see the two quite clearly. Dylan looked to be about 60 years old, with gray grizzly locks that reached his shoulders, and a sort of scraggly beard. He spoke with a slight German accent. Marisol came up slowly behind him. She looked to be in her mid thirties, not particularly attractive, sort of rounded, with decidedly red hair. "Just try to make yerself comfortable , my good sir. You should be feeling better in no time. Then Albus'll want to see yer."
Snape sat quietly for a moment. An expressive sneer spread across his face. "Hm. Let's hope so," he remarked dryly. "But I want to see Albus now. I need to discuss something with him. He's here?"
"Well.no," Marisol said. "He's left, away on business, as I'm sure you'd have guessed."
Severus sighed loudly. "Should have known. Tell me when he returns, if you don't mind." The professor, though recovering from a life threatening accident, still managed to keep that dull, sarcastic edge to his voice.
"We'll leave you to rest some. You still haven't recovered all your strength," said Marisol, turning to exit the room.
"It's late," added Dylan. "We'll be back in the morning." Severus wondered idly how they could possibly keep track of night and day so far underground.
Quietly, the two left, and Severus was alone. He glanced once more around the dimly lit room, in Edybhall. He had so narrowly escaped death. But still, he questioned himself as to why. So many had died.so many who had fought, sacrificing their lives for a greater cause. These people, who had family, friends, loved ones. But why Severus? He hadn't even the chance to raise up his wand in defense of anything good. And yet, he'd survived to see another day. Once again, the anger, the grief, the frustration swam through his veins. If only he had Albus, at least, to confront.but he was alone.
His distress was soon overcome by exhaustion and weakness. Maybe things would look a little brighter in the morning. He fell asleep regardless.
"Hush...shh.still asleep." a voice from far away. Gentle. A little warmth.
But distance took him again. A lapse in time and space. So far from his own body, his own voice. So vulnerable.
"I think I saw him stir.shhh.let him rest." the voice again. A connection in the dark. He felt a slight pressure on his brow. A soft hand, lain across his forehead. A tender touch.
A dim light, and the voice seemed not so far away. A dim golden light, blurred. Growing slowly. He felt his eyes open barely, so sore, so sensitive.
Severus could not move. He felt the blackness of nothing disappear as he came into his own body again. Noises were dull and few, the light still dim and blurred. But he began to feel himself breathing again. The hand lifted from his forehead. But through the murkiness, he saw a human figure sitting above him.
He knew nothing now, nothing but the simple concepts of light and dark, touch, movement, and breath. He had no memory nor conscious though of where he was, nor how he had come to be there.
"Shh.." the same voice repeated. A woman's voice. So soothing. He let himself fall under the influence of his current state. He didn't fight his wavering unconsciousness. He struggled only to fill his lungs. "It's okay, it's alright. We're going to take care of you. You're going to be just fine."
Severus was becoming more aware now. Still, he could not move his body. He could not yet see clearly, only fuzzy shapes, and some light. He wanted to ask where he was, what had happened to him. He wanted to know who, exactly, was "taking care of him." Why did he need to be taken care of? Why was he constantly being reassured that he would be alright, as if the chance had been slim?
He felt a pain shoot up through his spine, all the way to the base of his neck, like an electric shock. He winced, though not noticeably, as he was still incapable of rigorous movement. He felt the hand once again on his forehead, brushing away careless strands of hair.
But his memory, along with the feeling and energy, started to come rushing back to him. He was able to open his eyes wider, the pain in his spine diminished, and very stiffly, he moved his arms and legs.
He remembered falling - well, more precisely, he remembered flying. He remembered a huge noise, a flash of great light. He remembered death, and fire. The war. The dark lord.
He remembered a horse. A giant, black beast. He remembered riding with all of his might, racing the sun, drawing his wand.then.nothing.
The room he was in became more and more visible to him. It was small, poorly lit, with a few oil lamps, and a small fire. It was almost like a dungeon, but it was more like - a cellar. He heard pipes creaking and groaning. Certainly a basement of some kind. He saw little or no furniture. He himself was laying on a very flat mattress, and he just now realized that he was draped in blankets. He still felt the damp, bitter cold, however.
He turned his gaze toward the person directly in front of him. A young woman sat at his bedside, the owner of the voice, and the gentle hand. But she was in a significant amount of shadow. He could only see the outline of long hair, and a slender form, but her face was hidden in darkness.
Finally, he attempted to speak, but in taking a great breath and trying to form words, he felt his chest seize, and he broke into a coughing fit.
"It's okay...you'll be alright," the young woman repeated. Severus's coughing calmed, and he was able to whisper the words he'd been trying to.
"Where.where am I? Why.what happened?"
"He's awake! He's talking," another voice exclaimed, from farther away. A woman's voice also, but more high-pitched and slightly irritating.
"Quiet," the first voice reprimanded. Much more soothing on the ears than the second. Then, she continued. "Severus, you had quite an experience. It's a miracle you're alive." ('Clearly,' thought Severus bitterly to himself, 'she doesn't know me.') " If you hadn't touched that portkey"-
"Portkey?"Severus demanded hoarsely. Who was this woman, and what on earth was she talking about?
"Let me go back. I'll explain what has happened to you. But first, my name is Christine Brindle. I was there that night, the night that the dark lord took the castle."
Severus, though still groggy, listened intently. This woman Christine knew him. She knew his name. She knew of the war.but spoke of it as if it had happened long ago.
"What day is it?" Severus inquired, almost frightened to hear the response. Had he died? Had he been born again?
"Today is Sunday. Two weeks since the day you came to us here. You've been close to death for so long.but he told us to take care of you, keep watch over you. He values you very much."
A new flood of questions filled the professor's mind, mainly now about who 'he' was. Not knowing where to begin asking, he kept silent, and allowed Christine's voice to wash over him as she continued with her story. He wanted to see her face, but it was still a shadow. He felt a sort of nervous energy about her.and in the back of his mind, he half suspected Christine to be Lord Voldemort himself, in sheep's clothing.
"Severus, two weeks ago, the dark lord took Hogwarts castle. You saw the was with your own eyes. You knew from the start, I'm sure, that it was hopeless. Many on our side were killed. I think he may have lost a few death eaters, but there was no comparison. The battle ended with a Triple Collision: a combination spell of all the unforgivable curses. As you know, that spell, though very difficult to perform, is one that ends in complete destruction and death. I had seen the course of the fight, and presumed that Voldemort would use this curse to, well, finish us off. So a few of us left. We escaped using a portkey we'd set up beforehand as a precautionary, just outside of the castle's threshold. Dumbledore was saved, just in time, actually. He is with us.
"You must have been thrown by the blast. You know the Triple Collision ends in enormous noise and light, a quite explosive reaction. Few rarely survive such a thing. You must have been just far enough away, and you hit that portkey at just the right time. The portkey was, well, a corpse. A dead auror, lying on the ground, a few feet away from the Hogwarts doors. The only thing Voldemort and his armies wouldn't want to destroy - something they'd already killed." Severus almost grinned at this cleverness, had it not been so morbid. "You were transported here. You are in Edynhall. This is our last secret haven. We are far underground now. That is why it is so cold. We are in the basement of a very nondescript muggle house. But, you will see, it has grown into something of an intricate city. This is where we hide, planning our liberty, gaining our strength. Everyday, more refugees are admitted." Christine's voice became filled with passion, and Severus listened intently, understanding more now. He was in a shelter, a hidden place. Edynhall, she had called it. And Dumbledore was still alive. He now knew how incredibly lucky he himself had been. He wondered how many were left.how many still lived to defy the dark lord. "I know you Severus, because Dumbledore told us who you are. He explained," she stopped here, but Severus knew she had seen his dark mark, and that Albus had "explained" it. "He told us how valuable you are. He gave us charge over your wellbeing. We lost hope, we thought for certain that nothing could bring you back. But here you are."
Severus took all of this in carefully, in a state of mild shock. Hogwarts was taken. He had barely escaped death, and was now forced into hiding. He had been dead to the world for two weeks. But he was alive.
Slowly he began to sit up, barely aware now that two others stood in the room, one a woman, the other a man. Things were becoming progressively clearer, and the room seemed to brighten, as if a cloud had been lifted. He heard another voice from the opposite end of the room, along with the sound of a door creaking open.
"Brindle, urgent matters," a grave voice announced. Someone, a man, obviously, had just entered the room. "Council wants to see you at once."
"Okay, night," Christine said calmly, standing from Severus's bedside, and turning away from him. A dancing flame from the fire threw a splash of light on her, but only for a second. But it was enough for Severus to recognize that she was attractive. Dark, but attractive. The light vanished, and she was once more a shadow.
"Christine." the other woman began sadly.
"I know, Marisol. But I must go. Until - until our next meeting, then. Severus, I apologize. Our encounter was brief. There is more to explain, I'm sure you have questions. This," motioning to the other woman in the room, "is Marisol. She's been helping me take care of you. As has Dylan." The man beside Marisol. "I must go now," she repeated, " Maybe.we'll meet again." Her voice trailed off, and she spun on her heel in the direction of the door, a black leather cape swishing wildly behind her. Two sets of footsteps, going off toward the dark. Christine left with the man called Knight. The door slammed shut, and the room grew silent again.
Severus felt his joints seize as he moved his stiff, weary legs. Though still cold, he threw the blankets off and sat at the edge of the mattress. He was seeing clearly now, though his head was swimming. Marisol and Dylan approached him. He noticed how kindly everyone had been treating him. Quite unusual. He mainly owed this to the fact that the only things they knew about him were from Dumbledore, who rarely said a negative word about the worst of people. Also, his comatose state had made it impossible for him to sneer, scoff, or make any type of sarcastic comment within the past two weeks. They didn't know him at all.
"I know this is a difficult time for you," Dylan said softly. He stood with Marisol, bathed in firelight. Severus was able to see the two quite clearly. Dylan looked to be about 60 years old, with gray grizzly locks that reached his shoulders, and a sort of scraggly beard. He spoke with a slight German accent. Marisol came up slowly behind him. She looked to be in her mid thirties, not particularly attractive, sort of rounded, with decidedly red hair. "Just try to make yerself comfortable , my good sir. You should be feeling better in no time. Then Albus'll want to see yer."
Snape sat quietly for a moment. An expressive sneer spread across his face. "Hm. Let's hope so," he remarked dryly. "But I want to see Albus now. I need to discuss something with him. He's here?"
"Well.no," Marisol said. "He's left, away on business, as I'm sure you'd have guessed."
Severus sighed loudly. "Should have known. Tell me when he returns, if you don't mind." The professor, though recovering from a life threatening accident, still managed to keep that dull, sarcastic edge to his voice.
"We'll leave you to rest some. You still haven't recovered all your strength," said Marisol, turning to exit the room.
"It's late," added Dylan. "We'll be back in the morning." Severus wondered idly how they could possibly keep track of night and day so far underground.
Quietly, the two left, and Severus was alone. He glanced once more around the dimly lit room, in Edybhall. He had so narrowly escaped death. But still, he questioned himself as to why. So many had died.so many who had fought, sacrificing their lives for a greater cause. These people, who had family, friends, loved ones. But why Severus? He hadn't even the chance to raise up his wand in defense of anything good. And yet, he'd survived to see another day. Once again, the anger, the grief, the frustration swam through his veins. If only he had Albus, at least, to confront.but he was alone.
His distress was soon overcome by exhaustion and weakness. Maybe things would look a little brighter in the morning. He fell asleep regardless.