Stolen Child
Chapter II
If I Had You Now, As I Had Once Before
~Nearly Six Years Later~
The Grounds outside of Howarts were blanketed in a thick covering of snow, and still more was falling from the dismal gray skies. Professor Severus Snape stared out of the large window, his feelings, if you could call them that, echoing the bleakness of the landscape. He blinked once, then twice, and then turned his eyes back towards the hallway before him and continued the long walk from the dungeons to the great hall.
Swinging open the large oak doors, he entered the enormous hall which was half heartedly decorated for the holidays. Briskly he walked across the long room and took his usual seat at the head table, barely acknowledging the other Professors seated with him, nor the hundreds of students seated at their house tables, babbling on about whatever it is that children talk about. He did make it a point to glare at a few of them, though his stare had lost some of its intensity in the past few years, just like the rest of Hogwarts.
There was no speech to begin dinner, the plates were simply filled and then emptied by hungry, oblivious children, and each and every Professor was silent as he or she ate.
Snape didn't wait until everyone else was done before standing and leaving without so much as a smile, a nod, or a goodbye. It was pointless. He stalked back to the dungeons, his boots echoing dully on the stone floors. Once within the safety of his quarters, he sat heavily in his favorite arm chair and glared across the room at the small photograph sitting on the end table next to his bed. It was a rather old photograph of the Hogwart's staff, all standing together, most of them alternately smiling and waving, all accept for him.
The person he was most interested in was standing in the middle of them all, with a long gray beard and hair, and a twinkle in his eyes. Professor Snape scowled, gritting his teeth, making sure the keep the emotions he felt boiling inside him in check, even though obviously, no one was watching. "Damn you Albus. You and me both."
He awoke the next morning at the same time, in the same place as always, lying on his back, looking up at his stone ceiling, a warm fire crackling in his fireplace, his blankets neatly tucked under his arms, and the same deadness in his soul. He lay there for a long while, simply staring at the ceiling, his thoughts slowing wandering over the same old tripe, until finally he gathered all his strength and pulled himself out of bed.
He stood in front of his mirror for a long while, his hands resting against the top of his dresser. His hair was a mess, his face even more sallow than it had been the day before, if that was possible, and his eyes were just as dull as they had been for the past few years, there was barely even a glimmer of contempt or hate in them any more, just two dull pools of stagnant memories.
Memories of the events that made him, made Hogwarts this way. The final battle against Voldemort standing out most in his mind. Snape quickly pushed the memory back into the deep recesses of his mind before it could surface fully, and finally straitened and began to dress, not even bothering with a shower, or even cleaning himself up a bit with his wand.
The days classes were nothing but complete and utter agony for the potion's master, it seemed like every day the students became more and more idiotical, spilling valuable ingredients, and melting cauldrons was now a very common occurrence, and at least one awful thing happened a day. Half the time he didn't even bother any more, he'd just have them read and take notes instead of having to go through the ordeal of actually teaching, making sure to roar at them at least twice a lesson and take off as many points as possible for anything he could thing of.
He was beyond relieved when it was time for lunch and he finally had some privacy. Retreating to his quarters once more he sat upon his bed, freshly made by house elves, and leaned forward, lowering his head, his elbows resting on his knees. He stayed like this for a moment, and then opened the drawer of his night stand next to his bed, and pulled out a flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a long draft of the fire whiskey within.
The rest of his classes seemed to drag on forever; the only thing keeping him sane was the warmth of the whiskey in his belly. In between each class, he'd sneak a few shots out of the flask hidden within his robes, and by the end of the day, he was done, and definitely not fit to be handling dangerous substances, and so, probably not very wisely, he decided to leave the dungeons.
The journey up to the entrance hall was a slow one for Snape, he had to hug the wall several times, especially when going up stairs, but he made it, and took a few moments to stand there in the middle of the hall, glad that everyone else was busy having dinner. He tried to think of something to do, but as was usual these days, an idea didn't come to him easily. It was only when he heard footsteps coming towards him from the marble stair case across from him that he was spurred into action. He knew he had to act fast if he didn't want a student or teacher to find him in this state. He silently cursed himself for deciding to go for a stroll, and forced himself to make a quick decision and hastily opened the front door and slid out into the cold evening air.
The sun had not yet set, and despite the thick blanket of snow, it didn't seem all that cold to him, though of course he knew that was why they called it fire whiskey. He sighed and looked out over the snowy grounds now glistening in the honey gold evening light, and sticking his hands in his pockets, decided that it might be wise to go for a short walk to sober up a bit before going back inside.
The snow crunched softly under his boots, as he made his way down the gentle slope of the grounds, careful not to slip. Absentmindedly he look up at Hogwarts, his eyes falling upon the Tower which was once home to the Headmaster, but was now deserted, and had been for a few years now. The tower that would still be home to Albus Dumbledore if it hadn't been for him. Snape growled at the unwanted afterthought and looked away from the school, forcing himself to think of something else. He didn't even think about where he was heading until he was already there.]
*~~~~~*~~~~~*
Bonny Portmore
Loreena Mckennit
O Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase
Portmore.
O Bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree
For it stood on your shore for many's the long day
Till the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.
O Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase
Portmore.
All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying "where will we shelter or where will we sleep?"
For the Oak and the Ash they are all cutten down
And the walls of BONNY PORTMORE are all down to the ground.
O Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase
Portmore.
Chapter II
If I Had You Now, As I Had Once Before
~Nearly Six Years Later~
The Grounds outside of Howarts were blanketed in a thick covering of snow, and still more was falling from the dismal gray skies. Professor Severus Snape stared out of the large window, his feelings, if you could call them that, echoing the bleakness of the landscape. He blinked once, then twice, and then turned his eyes back towards the hallway before him and continued the long walk from the dungeons to the great hall.
Swinging open the large oak doors, he entered the enormous hall which was half heartedly decorated for the holidays. Briskly he walked across the long room and took his usual seat at the head table, barely acknowledging the other Professors seated with him, nor the hundreds of students seated at their house tables, babbling on about whatever it is that children talk about. He did make it a point to glare at a few of them, though his stare had lost some of its intensity in the past few years, just like the rest of Hogwarts.
There was no speech to begin dinner, the plates were simply filled and then emptied by hungry, oblivious children, and each and every Professor was silent as he or she ate.
Snape didn't wait until everyone else was done before standing and leaving without so much as a smile, a nod, or a goodbye. It was pointless. He stalked back to the dungeons, his boots echoing dully on the stone floors. Once within the safety of his quarters, he sat heavily in his favorite arm chair and glared across the room at the small photograph sitting on the end table next to his bed. It was a rather old photograph of the Hogwart's staff, all standing together, most of them alternately smiling and waving, all accept for him.
The person he was most interested in was standing in the middle of them all, with a long gray beard and hair, and a twinkle in his eyes. Professor Snape scowled, gritting his teeth, making sure the keep the emotions he felt boiling inside him in check, even though obviously, no one was watching. "Damn you Albus. You and me both."
He awoke the next morning at the same time, in the same place as always, lying on his back, looking up at his stone ceiling, a warm fire crackling in his fireplace, his blankets neatly tucked under his arms, and the same deadness in his soul. He lay there for a long while, simply staring at the ceiling, his thoughts slowing wandering over the same old tripe, until finally he gathered all his strength and pulled himself out of bed.
He stood in front of his mirror for a long while, his hands resting against the top of his dresser. His hair was a mess, his face even more sallow than it had been the day before, if that was possible, and his eyes were just as dull as they had been for the past few years, there was barely even a glimmer of contempt or hate in them any more, just two dull pools of stagnant memories.
Memories of the events that made him, made Hogwarts this way. The final battle against Voldemort standing out most in his mind. Snape quickly pushed the memory back into the deep recesses of his mind before it could surface fully, and finally straitened and began to dress, not even bothering with a shower, or even cleaning himself up a bit with his wand.
The days classes were nothing but complete and utter agony for the potion's master, it seemed like every day the students became more and more idiotical, spilling valuable ingredients, and melting cauldrons was now a very common occurrence, and at least one awful thing happened a day. Half the time he didn't even bother any more, he'd just have them read and take notes instead of having to go through the ordeal of actually teaching, making sure to roar at them at least twice a lesson and take off as many points as possible for anything he could thing of.
He was beyond relieved when it was time for lunch and he finally had some privacy. Retreating to his quarters once more he sat upon his bed, freshly made by house elves, and leaned forward, lowering his head, his elbows resting on his knees. He stayed like this for a moment, and then opened the drawer of his night stand next to his bed, and pulled out a flask, unscrewed the cap, and took a long draft of the fire whiskey within.
The rest of his classes seemed to drag on forever; the only thing keeping him sane was the warmth of the whiskey in his belly. In between each class, he'd sneak a few shots out of the flask hidden within his robes, and by the end of the day, he was done, and definitely not fit to be handling dangerous substances, and so, probably not very wisely, he decided to leave the dungeons.
The journey up to the entrance hall was a slow one for Snape, he had to hug the wall several times, especially when going up stairs, but he made it, and took a few moments to stand there in the middle of the hall, glad that everyone else was busy having dinner. He tried to think of something to do, but as was usual these days, an idea didn't come to him easily. It was only when he heard footsteps coming towards him from the marble stair case across from him that he was spurred into action. He knew he had to act fast if he didn't want a student or teacher to find him in this state. He silently cursed himself for deciding to go for a stroll, and forced himself to make a quick decision and hastily opened the front door and slid out into the cold evening air.
The sun had not yet set, and despite the thick blanket of snow, it didn't seem all that cold to him, though of course he knew that was why they called it fire whiskey. He sighed and looked out over the snowy grounds now glistening in the honey gold evening light, and sticking his hands in his pockets, decided that it might be wise to go for a short walk to sober up a bit before going back inside.
The snow crunched softly under his boots, as he made his way down the gentle slope of the grounds, careful not to slip. Absentmindedly he look up at Hogwarts, his eyes falling upon the Tower which was once home to the Headmaster, but was now deserted, and had been for a few years now. The tower that would still be home to Albus Dumbledore if it hadn't been for him. Snape growled at the unwanted afterthought and looked away from the school, forcing himself to think of something else. He didn't even think about where he was heading until he was already there.]
*~~~~~*~~~~~*
Bonny Portmore
Loreena Mckennit
O Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase
Portmore.
O Bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree
For it stood on your shore for many's the long day
Till the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.
O Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase
Portmore.
All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying "where will we shelter or where will we sleep?"
For the Oak and the Ash they are all cutten down
And the walls of BONNY PORTMORE are all down to the ground.
O Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think on you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had once before
All the Lords in Old England would not purchase
Portmore.