Ok, Disclaimer Time!! I do not own anything of the Harry Potter Universe.
Hang on. That's a lie, as anyone on ebay can tell you. I DO own three Severus Snape Action Figures, two movie posters, all of the books, various and sundry toys, still in their boxes, all of the games, two HP UNO decks, Alan Rickman's lovely autograph on my play bill for Private Lives and the play placard. Hmmmmmmmmmm...what else? Ah yes! Alan Rickman's autograph on MY copy of Dark Coil. *digs through box of Potter-stuff* Ooo! Here is my Hermione doll! She refuses to be placed on the bookshelf beside my Ron doll. There is my HP jewelry along with my lovely Severus Snape earring. Let's not forget my Snape Potions Box and my Alan Rickman nuddie piccy suspended in clear glycerin soap. The Harry Potter colideoscopes, kolideoscope? Oh heck, a look-through thingie with loads of lovely colors and shapes. Kewl beanies!! There is Norbert, both of him! Lookie, it's my Hogwarts Playset!! I still have all of the pieces! *dig-dig-dig* Two yards of HP material!! My lightening bolt pen! Still works! Yea! What else? Book marks, stickers, tattoo maker, Snape's Potion Lab (used all the ingredients), note pad AND my Hogwarts mouse pad!!! There is a pile of stuff in here, I just plumb forgot about these things...
What?
Story?
Oh yea, sorry. Ahem! On to the story.
I heard a great voice calling, "Look and write these things that are revealed to thee!" I looked and there did see a being descending from the heavens, bearing with it a jar of unfired clay. The being did set the jar upon the earth and a sword was thrust into the mouth of the jar. ~~ The Book of Surinim
Hermione curled into Remus' side. The hollow-eyed werewolf pulled the the sobbing woman closer, grateful for the opportunity to bring some measure of comfort, grateful to do anything that might ease the aching inside his own chest.
The Common Room of Gryffindor Tower was filled with shocked and weeping students. Every chair, pillow and bit of floor was occupied while every set of eyes stared fixedly at the glowing, flickering television set hovering high above its usual perch. The magically altered Muggle device wanted to insure that every member of its audience had an unobstructed view of the grisly scenes flashing across its wide glass surface. At the moment, a garishly painted Rita Sketter filled the screen.
"This is Rita Skeeter reporting live form Hogsmede where Ministry investigators continue to pick over the rubble that was once home to the dashing Sirius Black." Rita's face disappeared and was replaced by images of Aurors combing through the remains of The Shrieking Shack, her grating voice, however, intruded upon the scene. "The bucolic tranquility of this backwater village was shattered by the sounds of horrific battle in the early morning hours this past Saturday. Neighbors report that the noise of the fighting brought them from their sleep in time to see a cloaked figure run from the home before they became witnesses to the explosion that destroyed the building, killing its lone, bachelor occupant."
The screen hiccuped once more and the ruddy face of a Hogsmede resident glared down upon the young students. "Yep! I saw it all. Woke up to the most god awful racket you ever heard. They was a-shouting and a-hexing each other for all they was worth. Musta been one hellova fight 'cause there was lights flashing and explosions going on all through the place. Then this fella come running out the door. He turns around and points his wand at the house and the whole damn thing just blew to pieces. Knocked me and tha missus right on our asses!"
With a startling flicker, the image of a trembling witch appeared, her face streaked with tears, her hair coiled in pink curlers. "It was terrible! I thought we were all going to be killed! I saw someone run from the house and stop by the front gate. He turned and cast a spell and...well, sniff! The house exploded! It was awful! Shingles and wood flying everywhere. Sniff! That poor boy! Just got his life back and all. It is a shame if you ask me."
Rita Skeeter once more blinked into view, her rhinestone glasses flashing eagerly. "Authorities here are being closed mouthed about possible suspects, but Wizard World News has learned that investigators are looking very carefully into a possible love triangle involving the handsome deceased and two Hogwarts instructors."
The crowd of Gryffindors gasped, recoiling, as the scowling visage of their Potions Master filled the screen. Rita's grating tones carried over the rustle of whispers and sobs. "Renown Potions Master and suspected Death Eater, Severus Snape, has not yet been singled out as a prime suspect in the gruesome killing of the rugged, former fugitive, Sirius Black, but speculation is running high. It seems that earlier this week, during a routine meeting of ...."
*click*
The screen went blank. Everyone turned to where Minerva McGonagall stood by the porthole, the remote control held outstretched before her like a wand. She spoke, her voice dry as chaff. "We in Gryffindor are above indulging in unsubstantiated gossip and hate mongering. Professor Snape is no more a suspect than am I."
A babble of protest arose as several older students came to their feet, faces twisted in anger. Professor McGonagall glared them down.
"I know what each of you witnessed in the Great Hall and I must remind you that Harry Potter was reacting out of grief and misplaced anger." Minerva sighed. " He has now come to his senses and has apologized to Professor Snape for his behavior. I ask...No, I insist that each of you keep your personal grievances concerning Professor Snape to yourselves. If I hear one word, one whisper," McGonagall's mouth shrank to an alarmingly small pucker above her chin. "Of slanderous talk proceeding from this House, I will have the guilty party before the Headmaster and then out of this school before the ink dries on the dismissal parchment. Have I made myself clear?"
The Gryffindors nodded, while several kept their faces lowered to hide the angry, vengeful fire burning upon their countenances.
"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall turned upon the red-eyed Head Girl as Hermione extracted herself from the sofa and Lupin's arms. "What are you thinking, Miss Granger, to allow these young people to watch such tripe? I would have thought you of all people would have had the sense to put a stop to such indulgences." The Head of House's face was hard and her tone unforgiving.
Remus opened his mouth to defend Hermione, but the young witch waved him back. Looking at her favorite professor, Hermione stood erect, but bowed her head contritely. "You are right, Professor. Forgive me. I allowed myself to be carried away by grief when I should have been more alert." She sniffed into a tissue and raised her red, swollen eyes to Minerva's chilly, grey stare. "It won't happen again, Professor."
"See that it doesn't, Miss Granger. You are Head Girl for a reason. You are to be the example, the level that all Hogwarts students strive for." Professor McGonagall flicked her gaze over the young witch before her, before turning them to Lupin. "The Headmaster wants you Remus. I will see you to the porthole." Minerva's tone brooked no argument, and the wizard snatched up his cloak and moved to the exit, his lean face grim.
The Gryffindor Head glanced swept over each student before speaking again. "It is late. You are to report to your dormitories at once. Miss Granger will be performing bed checks in fifteen minutes. Hogwarts will have no trouble from Gryffindor House this night. I hope I have made myself clear." With one last scathing glance to her Head Girl, Professor McGonagall turned and proceeded Remus from the chamber.
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The memorial service for Sirius Black quickly became a media circus, much to Dumbledore and Olivia's delight and Severus' dismay. The Potions Master could feel the pressure of hundreds of eyes and cameras upon his person as he moved amongst the gathering of mourners and sight-seers. Even realizing the importance of broadcasting the news of Black's departure did nothing to ease his discomfort at being scrutinized by those witches and wizards with less of a life than his own.
His head snapped back on his neck as a small wooden box appeared suddenly, directly under his prominent nose. Bony fingers, the two inch talons lacquered in a magenta so intense Severus could fee the muscles behind his eyes contract, gave the box a quick squeeze and the lid popped open with a tiny 'snick'.
"Testing, test, test, test. Can you hear me?" Rita Skeeter's drill like voice perforated Snape's veneer of icy indifference. Like oxygen, the tawdry reporter fed the fires of the Potions Master's ire. Severus leaned backwards as Skeeter pressed closer, her bug-ish eyes large and filled with malicious curiosity.
"Professor Snape, do you have any response to the allegations against you of possible Death Eater ties? You can go ahead and speak directly into the box. Sid'll edit out the garbage later. Com'on Snape, camera shy?" Rita's vicious smile was made even more grotesque by the spidery lines of garish lip gloss bleeding out into the myriad wrinkles about her wide mouth.
Severus felt the skin on his cheeks grow taut with anger. How he despised this old bag of sinew and gristle. He made to go around her but Rita thrust out her opposite arm, blocking his path. "Come now, professor. Nothing to say to the public? Tell us what it is like to finally find love after all this time. What is it about the daughter of Professor McGonagall that has managed to thaw the heart of wizardom's most reclusive bachelor?" Skeeter's breath rushed hot and hungry over the wizard's face, like a lioness clamping down upon her prey. "What is it like to finally get the girl?"
If Rita read the danger in Snape's expression, she chose to ignore it, perhaps feeling too secure in her many witnesses to pull back before he could strike.
And strike he did. With the speed of a baited cobra, Snape plucked the recording box from Skeeter's thin fingers, crushing the device to splinters before dumping them into her still outstretched palm.
"Sod off, you frustrated old stick!" He growled coldly before
sweeping past her in a swirl of black robes.
The deep reverberation of the mourning bell announced the start of the service and Snape retreated to the protective shade of the colonnade, observing the now hushed crowd as it moved into the the outer courtyard. A black draped casket floated into view, followed by the ashen faced Harry Potter, an equally pale and shaken Lupin by his side. The younger wizard kept his green eyes down cast, ignoring faces, both the compassionate and contemptuous, that observed his slow, painful steps. Directly behind Potter was Albus Dumbledore, looking particularly odd in his robes of deep black. Snape's glittering eyes skipped quickly to the pair of witches in the Headmaster's wake.
Minerva McGonagall's face was set in grim determination, her glare moving coldly over the gathered spectators, one arm protectively wrapped around her daughter's slender waist. Olivia's face was bowed and partially hidden by the veil of midnight lace that fell from the brim of her pointed hat.
Black is not her color, Severus noted to himself, wondering how in Hades the witch managed to rid her cheeks of their usual pink or remove the sparkle from her eyes. Was it just an hour ago that she had been giggling and peering at him through the very lace that now covered her like a cloud? What a clever little actress she was becoming. Anyone capable of assuming the mantle of grief to such an extent can just as easily mimic any emotion they choose, such as desire or even - love. Snape hurriedly squashed that nagging bug of thought.
An angry hissing, like a pit of disturbed vipers intruded upon his thoughts. The tone remained low, as if attempting to hide itself beneath the rustling of fabric and sniffling noses, but Severus recognized the sound immediately: hate, and its target was Olivia.
"Whore!" Someone in the crowd shrieked and the hissing rose in sibilant agreement. Olivia's steps faltered and Severus was sure that her movement was unplanned. Minerva's flashing eyes promised dire retribution as they scanned the muttering throng. Under a gauntlet of malice, the two woman continued forward until they stood side by side with Potter and Lupin. Remus made to place a reassuring hand upon Olivia's arm, but she shook her head and the werewolf retreated.
Snape watched, helpless as the ceremony began, Albus' tattered voice barely distinguishable over the murmuring and the occasional slur tossed at the bowed head covered in black lace.
"Ah, the fickle nature of public opinion." Lucius Malfoy's oily chuckle dripped upon Snape's ear. "From heroine to whore in the span of a week. If this rabble could only guess at her true purpose, their scorn would become as dust upon their tongues."
Snape caught Malfoy's malicious grin, forcing his own lips to curl in amused agreement. "I am surprised to see you here, Lucius." Snape intoned as he turned his attention once more to the proceedings. "I had not realized you harbored a tender regard for the dearly departed."
"Were it not social suicide, I would laugh aloud, Snape." Malfoy jeered. "As it is, I shall mope about with an appropriately melancholy face and tut-tut over my wine at the tragic loss we have all suffered."
Snape found himself biting back a bark of laughter at this mental image, but Lucius caught the amused glimmer in his companion's black eyes. For a moment, the two wizards shared a smile, briefly united by their joint dislike of the Sirius Black
Lucius sighed, tapping Snape's black lapel with his serpent headed cane. "Our Lord is pleased with you." He drawled, his voice heavy with envy. "Surely, your reward will be great."
Greater than you could even begin to imagine, Snape gloated silently, before saying aloud, "I live only to serve His wishes."
"So modest, Severus!" Lucius chortled. "It becomes you, actually. The perfect follower; uncomplaining, unquestioning, obedient." He paused, staring hard at Snape's hook nosed visage. "Dare I say, servile?"
"Unlike you?" Severus inquired blandly, his dark eyes fixed on the ceremony.
"Unlike me in every way." Malfoy responded, flicking invisible lint from an already immaculate cloak of black and silver. "When our Lord comes into his power, he will have need of generals, as well as foot soldiers." Cold, silver eyes bored into Snape's profile. "I fully intend to be counted among the former."
"You aim high, Lucius."
"I am a Malfoy." Came the arrogant reply
"Indeed." Snape responded, drily, shrugging away from the pillar. "Now, if you will excuse me, duty calls."
Under Malfoy's sneering gaze Snape eased from the shadows and strode purposefully in the direction of the group flanking the black draped coffin.
As planned, when Albus called forth the flames that would consume the casket and its contents, Olivia wilted like a cut flower. Minerva staggered under the weight of her daughter's limp body, worry etched deep into her wrinkled face.
"Stand aside, Lupin!" Snape ordered, pushing past the werewolf .
Minerva made to protest, but was silenced by Snape's arctic words, "Your little lion has need of you, Professor McGonagall." He jutted his chin in Harry's general direction. Placing an arm about Olivia's waist, he pulled her unresisting body to him, whispering into her ear.
Olivia nodded weakly and the pair inched their way past the curious, contempt filled eyes of the assembly. Severus felt Olivia tremble as they neared the exit and a hatchet face crone with unnaturally red hair snarled, "Death Eater's whore!"
Without pause Severus led Olivia into the dim interior of the castle walls and up the stairs to her chamber. From behind, the angry, vengeful buzz rose once more, accompanied this time by the hungry roar of the funeral pyre.
Draco's attention was on the retreating pair even as he stroked the inside of Pansy Parkinson's pale arm. The Slytherins observed the solemn proceedings from an area of the commons reserved for the student body. The faces of his peers, including a few members of Serpent's Den, were grim and hard with suppressed mourning. The ball of ice that had become wedged in Draco's gut the night of Sirius' banishment had grown to glacial proportions in the days following the wizard's death. Now its chill crept into every cell of the blond teen's body, immobilizing Draco with uncertainty. He had listened to his father's interpretations of the Surinim ramblings and had therefore recognized the appearing of The Champion. Draco understood all to well the dire implications of Black's passing.
With Sirius Black out of the picture, who would be there to stand between Voldemort and that vile demon's plans for a rebirth?
Draco shuddered then smiled down into Pansy's face when the witch eyed him with curiosity.
Flames erupted upon the funeral pyre, their crackling and snapping vying with Potter's broken sobs for the crowd's attentions. Feeling cold eyes upon his neck, Draco surreptitiously scanned the gathering and found Lucius Malfoy regarding him from beneath hooded eyes. With a barely discernible nod to acknowledge his father's presence, Draco returned to his fondling of Pansy and the suffocating thoughts of the Dark Lord's accession.
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With a quiet whisper, Severus released the wards at the entrance to his private quarters. The dull, throbbing behind his eyes had labored tirelessly throughout the day, finally giving birth to a hellacious headache that now screamed and thrashed within his cranium.
Allowing his steps to fall with more force than usual upon the unyielding stone, Snape moved quickly into the room and dropped a deep, metal bowl upon the floor with a loud thud.
"Your share of the funeral feast, Black!" He called, then grimaced in pain as his words collided with the agony bouncing inside his skull. He continued, his volume lower. "Lovely ceremony. You should have been there." Really! he added silently.
The massive, black hound remained before the fire where it lay curled in a dejected heap. The beast's brow lifted slightly, liquid brown eyes sending the Potions Master a gaze of profound misery.
The wizard sneered before addressing the forlorn animal once more. "I cannot imagine why your butt should be dragging the ground. You have enjoyed the comfort of my hospitality for these three days now and still you mope about like someone has made off with your favorite slipper."
Lifting his blocky head, the animal fixed Snape with a hard, topaz stare.
"What?" Snape demanded, moving to his private medicine chest. "Is it not enough that I am being forced to provide you with a place to lay your miserable carcass- which by the way, stinks like an open sewer-" Opening the chest, he retrieved a vial of headache potion, ripping the top off with his teeth. Spitting the wax in the direction of Black, the scowling wizard downed the contents in one gulp. "But now I must wait upon you like a house elf, fetching your food, your water-" The glare he fired at his silent audience would have shattered stone. "-taking you for walkies!!"
A long, red tongue spilled from the canine's gaping jaws, as Sirius hassled with mirth. The headache potion moved swiftly through Severus' veins and as his pain faded, his snarkiness grew apace. "Laugh cur! But remember who guards your plush prison and be afraid."
He crossed the room with angry strides and vanished into his bedchamber, slamming the door forcefully.
Black woofled a doggie chuckle and pushed his impressive frame up from the rug. Grunting and stretching, he worked the kinks form his body, then plopped his bottom back down to indulge in prolonged scratching. Delighted with the amount of hair and dander flying in the air, Black shook himself vigorously, turning towards the bowl of munches Snape had provided.
And froze.
There, stuffing his pointy, whiskered face with canapés and salmon, was Snape's cat! A low rumbling shook Black's rib cage before emerging from behind his rippling lips. In a flash, he was before the bowl, straddling the grey and white thief. To the hound's disbelief, Cat flicked out a pink tongue and whisked a bit of fish from his nose before giving the towering dog a smirk.
*You really should try this* Cat purred, squeezing his eyes into slits of rapture.
*I had intended on doing just that!* Black rumbled. *But now it is full of cat drool!*
Cat's emerald eyes flew wide as he meowed with dignity, *Cats do NOT drool!*
Black made no reply, but sighed heavily, blasting the fur of Cat's face flat to his tiny skull. With a groan, the canine turned and shambled over to his rug where he tossed himself down, turning his head away from the perplexed feline by the bowl.
For Cat, the food lost its appeal as he gazed at the mound of black and brown hair occupying the greater part of the hearth rug. The young feline had no real idea why The Daddy decided to bring The Dog into their cozy home. It certainly wasn't for affection, since The Daddy and The Dog seemed to be constantly at odds with one another; The Dog frequently making snide comments about The Daddy under his doggie breath. At first, Cat was shocked and angered by what The Dog had to say but then, with true feline insight, realized The Dog was in pain. Perhaps he had lost his Daddy. Oh, the very thought broke Cat's tender little heart for Cat knew how lost he would be should something terrible befall The Daddy. It brought tears to his elliptical eyes just thinking of it!
Thoughtfully licking one white paw, Cat drew the appendage over one perky ear and down the side of his whiskered face. It seemed that The Dog was here to stay, so there was nothing to do for it save roll out the welcome mat and show the big guy the litter box, but in the past three days all of Cat's overtures had been rebuffed. At one point he had ended up screaming for The Daddy from the top of the bookcase, with that gigantic maw roaring terrible threats from below. And all Cat had done was offer to let the brute sniff his butt.
Well, wasn't that how their kind greeted one another? Cat wasn't so sure any more. So much for asking advice from Mrs. Norris.
After a tail popping stretch, Cat padded over to the mountainous hound. Cranking up the volume on the purr box, Cat leaned into the floppy, black jowls and scrapped his entire body along one side of the morose snout. He was just hanging a right to complete the gesture when his progress was halted as he came whisker to pupil with one glowing brown eye.
*What do you think you are doing?* Black groused.
* Giving you a hug. You look like you are hurting.*
*I am not hurting and ever if I were, I would not want YOU plastering my face with fuzz*
*You are hurting*
*I am not*
*Yes, you are*
*No, I am not*
*Are*
*Not!*
*Are!*
*What makes you so damned sure?* Black growled, raising his head, causing Cat to tumble over. The dog neatly penned the feline beneath a paw the size of a cauldron lid.
Cat flicked a glance at the massive foot holding his ribs to the floor before looking up, up, and upper, to the gleaming tusks dripping with salvia.
*Gulp!*
*Well,* Cat meeped. *The Daddy used to have that look and it always made him feel better when I gave him a good rub. I just thought it would help....*
*Snape looked hurt?* The canine whoofed in disbelief.
*Oh yes!* Cat responded. * Terribly hurt! It was awful to see.* The green eyes clouded in memory, then flashed, *But he is much happier now.*
*Yea* Black groused and returned to his contemplation of the low burning embers.
Cat studied the forlorn dog for a moment. * You know what I do when I feel down?*
*Pester the hell out of folks?* Black snarled.
*Oh no!* Cat responded innocently, causing the dog to roll his eyes in disbelief.
Cat continued. *I lay on my back with my feet in the air* He advised with a knowing wink.
*You wanna run that one by me one more time?*
*I lay on my back with...*
*Just stop, ok?* Black insisted, increasing the pressure on the furry ribs below his horny paw.
*No, really. You should give it a try.* Cat insisted with a gasp.
*Why?*
*Well,* Cat began. *Things really look different from that angle*
Black eyed the small, feline form. With his brow furrowing, he snapped peevishly. *If I do, will you go away- far away, and leave me in peace?*
*You bet!* Cat meowed.
When Severus re-entered the chamber a short time later, both animals were laying upon their backs, legs and paws splayed in a most unflattering fashion. Both were fast asleep.
With a disgusted snort, Severus quitted the room.
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Snape rested his battered frame against an elderly yew, grateful for both the tree's unbending support as well as its scabby bark that latched on to the panting wizard's robes, permitting Severus to remain on his feet. The wounds on his swollen and broken lips continued to ooze in spite of the frigid air. He wiped at the annoying tickle on his chin, only to frown at the sight of his blood tinted a vespertine hue by the moon's glow.
Pulling the heavy winter robes closer about him, Severus attempted to hold in his meager heat and prevent the shivering he knew would exacerbate the current state of his ribs. The air caused Severus' teeth to ache as the panted shallowly and waited for some measure of strength to return to his limbs.
The tree upon which he leaned groaned and rattled its naked branches with the sound of old bones as the night wind sighed to itself. In the near distance, the juddering cry of a prowling wolf caused Snape to grip his wand tighter and push himself from his silvan support, hungry for the comfort and safety waiting at Hogwarts.
Hungry for the touch of one...
He had been summoned to the Dark Lord's side just before midnight, the pain of the call bringing him gasping from his sleep and the shelter of Olivia's embrace. Lucius had been correct. Voldemort did want to reward Severus Snape for his faithfulness. The Muggle teen who rubbed her naked body against the rough fabric of his Death Eater robes and the chest of deadly, highly illegal potions ingredients were both princely signs of Voldemort's appreciation of a job well done. The beating was simply a reminder to Severus and the others who were allowed to witness the event, who was in charge. The warning was clear. Don't get too cocky.
He had dispatched the girl with as much speed and mercy as he could manage without tipping his hand, reduced the chest to the size of a child's block and patiently waited for the real reason for his summons to commence.
The crucios and beatings seemed to go on for hours, yet he would have endured it for all eternity if it would have spared him the memory of Patience Doyle's excruciating torture and death. The gathered Death Eaters, giddy with their triumph at capturing a top Ministry Auror and drunk with power; were lusting for their chance to torment the bound witch. When Snape came forward for his turn, Patience had gazed at him from her one remaining eye, telling him silently that she understood. Pushing a gelatin capsule filled with a potent painkiller into Patience's mouth along with his thrusting tongue, Severus had sped the witch on her way. Her body would have all the appearances of life for a while longer, but the once jolly wife of a Muggle police officer was dead before Snape left her side.
Now, weaving with exhaustion through a landscape painted blue and silver by the full moon's light, Snape squinted his eyes, hoping to espy a glimmer of the school glowing warm and hospitable above the brutal, frozen countryside. All his wind-wet eyes encountered was more snow, more black tree trunks, more desolation.
A fluid darkness moved within the static glomming cast by the trees and Severus increased the length and speed of his stride. He curled fingers, blue with cold, more tightly about his time worn wand. The other hand was pressed to his side, where a conflagrant agony flared from his tortured ribs.
As he came into a thinning of the trees, Severus was able to recognize the glade where Olivia had finally made her stand those many months ago. Even with the deadly chill beating down on him, Snape could recall the sounds produced by the waking bird; the sight of Olivia swaying before him, battered yet very much alive.
Victorious.
Not much farther to go. He made to press on, then froze.
A wolf of unimaginable proportions padded over the ice encrusted snow. Blacker than the shadows from which he had parted, the animal filled the clearing, obscuring everything, all sight, all sound, with his presence. Severus felt his heart stumble in its labor and the blood begin to congeal in his veins. He had experienced this type of dehumanizing fear only once before; remembered all too well the bitter tang of iron on his tongue, the sensation of skin tightening, shrinking on the body as if to vanish into nothingness, the scalding sensation of terror as it sizzled along each nerve ending, urging flight but leaving one flightless with fear.
With unnatural grace the animal advanced, legs stiff, muzzle extended, pewter lined ears pinned back to the large skull. Black lips were pulled back in a grimace, displaying a hint of fangs. The long, bushy tail was held away from his body, not erect, yet not dragging the ground in supplication. A low rumbling, barely discernible above the moan of the wind, came to Severus' ears and the wizard forced his wand hand up and out.
"As you value your life," he croaked. "Come no closer!"
To Snape's relief, the animal stopped, plopping his haunches into the snow. The massive rib cage expanded and deflated like a bellows, expelling skeins of blue vapor that wrapped themselves about the lolling jaws and formed a veil over the intelligent, amber eyes. Legs the size of small trees supported the creature's weight easily, the insulating hair fringing along the back painted a dull silver by the moonlight.
For a long moment, they regarded each other in silence, the scene stretched tight with patience and pain.
Drawing another tortured breath, Severus spoke, his voice raspy from the screams Voldemort had pulled from him earlier. "Lupin?"
The wolf was up and moving instantly. Alarmed, his strength sapped by the horrific beating and the encroaching cold, Snape staggered back, catching his heel upon the hem of his robes. A thick drift cushioned his fall somewhat but a bellow of pain escaped his split and bleeding lips.
Whining in fretful concern, the wolf sniffed urgently along Snape's body; the wizard rigid with fear. That the animal had not dispatched him immediately reassured Snape slightly as to the wolf's identity but did little to assuage the terror nurtured in Severus' heart since childhood.
Remus' hot breath steamed over Severus' face, causing the downed wizard to grimace in distaste. "It would seem that you and Black share the same tastes in cuisine." He managed to snarl around the growing tightness in his chest.
Lupin responded with at wolfish grin, providing Snape with an excellent view of the cavern like throat with its alarming barricade of gleaming, ivory fangs.
Reaching out a hand, white and shaking from cold, Severus buried his fingers into the deep fur along the werewolf's neck. "As much as it pains me to admit this, Lupin, I have need of your assistance." A second frost stiffened hand worked its way into Lupin's ruff. "If you would be so kind as ..." Snape's pain filled inquiry was washed away by the sound of Lupin's ringing howl.
Massive head tossed back, his magnificent, silvered muzzle pointed skywards, Remus filled the air with his heart chilling cry. The sound poured from the fiercesome animal in one, long, unbroken wail and Severus fell back into the snow, his guts twisting in dread.
From afar, a werewolf's call has been known to steal the courage from even the most stalwart of souls, turning their bones to water and their resolve to dust. At this intimate distance, shuddering where he lay walled in by the pillars of Remus' legs, Severus was sure that he had passed into the darkest realms of hell, doomed to experience this bowel melting terror day after eternal day.
Then, suddenly there was nothing.
A silence more profound than death filled the glade, even the wind seemed to hold its breath in anxious waiting. Stepping gingerly over the black shrouded figure, Remus moved around to Severus' head, easing himself down into the snow. Though he continued to quake with the aftershocks of Lupin's howl, Snape's body craved the offered warmth. He pulled himself painfully into the hairy curve of Remus' abdomen. Snape lifted the edges of his cloak, tossing as much of the heavy material over the both of them as he could. With a weary sigh, Severus lay his black head down upon Remus' grizzly flank.
The werewolf observed the pale wizard, concern puckering the silver fur between his eyes. Placing his head on his forepaws, Remus watched as Severus fell into his sleep.
He was still watching and protecting when Olivia and Sirius found them sometime before the dawn.
Ok, not a lot going on but I think this is important enough to spend nearly a month writing. I extend my thanks to lablanch for her information on wolves. I wanted the meeting to be as real as possible.
A great big thanks to everyone who reviewed so far. Please let me know what your thoughts are on what has happened with Sirius. He is still among the living. I am not so mean as to kill him off; just make him suffer a bit.
Cat's comments came from "A Cat's Guide". A very enlightening piece of feline prose. You should all read it if you are owned by a cat.
Please review. Yes, I am begging. I have no pride.
gotsnape