Chapter 3
Saving the Fallen
Nearly a month and a half had gone by since Samantha's first Remedial Potions lesson. Again and again she sensed Snape was trying to break her spirit, but she couldn't begin to wonder why. It just seemed like he wanted to hurt her, not help her, so why did he offer to tutor her?
She had not been late since her first lesson, and tonight she was on time as well. As a ritual, she knocked, he said 'Enter', she went in, he asked her to sit, and she sat and automatically got out piece of parchment and some paper. Tonight everything happened as usual, but when she commenced digging through her bag, he told her she would not need a piece of parchment nor a quill tonight.
"Tonight," he had said (much to her horror). "You are going to take a practical exam so I can see how much you've absorbed from all the lectures."
Her heart sank like a stone. She normally worked well under pressure, but if that pressure was Snape, she knew damn well she would crash and burn. And that didn't make her feel any better, either.
"You will be making the Draught of Living Death." I announced. I could see her swallow nervously. Good, I thought, smirking. Tonight she's going to crack, I know it. Tonight she'll snap in half as easily as a twig.
"Okay." She gulped. "Right...um...the water." I watched her, relishing in her nervousness as she lit the fire beneath the cauldron, poured the water as a base, and scrambled to get her ingredients. Despite of all my lectures, she was becoming quite scatterbrained. I smiled one-sidedly.
"That'll ruin the Draught if you add that, you know." I said analytically just as she dropped the wrong ingredient in. She glared up at me. "It was your mistake, not mine, Miss Fox. Don't glare at me." I said firmly. She looked back down at her cauldron, muttering.
"Add the foxtail now." I told her. She dropped it in and the cauldron billowed smoke. Beneath the smoldering whiteness, I knew that the color would come out midnight blue, just as it was supposed to be. I felt obligated to help her. I had lied when I said that the other ingredient would ruin the potion; it only changed the color. Lucky for me she didn't know that.
And lucky for her, I basically guided her through the potion. But when I turned my back for one moment, in an instant I knew she had not stirred it as many times as necessary. I turned back around and faced her, my eyes accusing. She looked at me with an innocent confusion.
"I don't know what happened!" she said. "I was just stirring it like you told me, and –"
"Except that before you supposedly 'stirred' it, the potion was midnight blue, and now it is acid green. It is still supposed to be midnight blue, Miss Fox, so how do you explain the change in color if you claim you followed my directions?" I demanded. She floundered for an answer.
"I – I –"she stuttered.
"You are a disgrace to Potion making, Miss Fox!" I snapped.
"I can't help it! I'm just bad at measuring and timing and all that!" she cried, clearly distressed. I was finally getting to her. At long last, she was going to break. I nearly smirked, then caught myself.
"It is more than that, Miss Fox! You have to give a damn about your work before you can excel in it, and you, obviously, do not –"
"That's not true!" she shouted, her lip quivering. I felt my lip curl with satisfaction. I could see the sweat trickling down her neck. I leaned forward and bent close to her face so that our breath nearly met.
"Oh, but isn't it?" I whispered, sneering. She clenched her fists.
"NO!" she shrieked. "Oh, you – you – "but she stopped and fell silent.
"Me? What about me? Go on, say it." I prompted, baring my teeth and instigating a challenge.
It looked as though she was going to burst into tears and flee, the way her lip was quivering so violently, the way her fists were clenched into menacing white balls of fury, the way her eyes and cheeks were tinged crimson, the obvious lump in her throat. Then, in one swift and frightening movement, her face cleared completely. I gasped and stood back. She grinned as I stared at her in surprise.
"You want to know what I truly think of you? Can I be honest?" she asked.
She won't say anything, I thought. She doesn't have the guts to say anything to me. This mental reassurance gave me the nerve I needed to smile sweetly back at her and reply, "But of course."
I'm cold, I'm ugly
I'm always confused by everything
I can stare into a thousand eyes
But every smile hides a bold-faced lie
It itches, it seethes, it festers and breathes
My heroes are dead, they died in my head
Thin out the herd, squeeze out the pain
Something inside me has opened up again
Thoughts of me exemplified
All the little flaws i have denied
Forget today, forget whatever happened
Everyday i see a little more of overall deficiencies
I'm nothing short of being one complete catastrophe
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?
I save all the bullets from ignorant minds
Your insults get stuck in my teeth as they grind
Way past good taste, on our way to bad omens
I decrease, while my symptoms increase
God what the fuck is wrong You act like you knew it all along
Your timing sucks, your silence is a blessing
All i ever wanted out of you was
Something you could never be
Now take a real good look at
What you've fucking done to me
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?
Gimme any reason why I'd need you, boy
Gimme any reason not to fuck you up
Gimme any reason why I'd need you, bitch
Gimme any reason not to fuck you up
I see you in me
I keep my scars from prying eyes
Incapable of ever knowing why
Somebody breathe, I've got to have an answer
Why am i so fascinated by
Bigger pictures, better things
But i don't care what you think
You'll never understand me
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?
Fuck!!!
-Slipknot-
"Well," she began, starting to shake with anger. She gritted her teeth and suddenly looked mildly unnerving. There was a strange, livid power in her deep blue eyes that I had never witnessed before. "I think you are a selfish bastard who likes to fuck with peoples heads for fun! You like to hurt people, to break people down, and it makes me SICK! The way you walk around with your abnormally large nose pointed towards the sky as if it is superior to everyone around you, as if nobody else deserves your attention! All around you see people struggling, but you do nothing to help! If your time is valuable, Professor, why don't you spend it doing something that everyone can profit from instead of just feeling sorry for yourself! Honestly, by looking at the way you turned out, you must have had a bad childhood, but you want to know something? I don't give a shit, and neither does anybody else! I'm here to learn, Professor, and that doesn't seem to be taking place, so get your ass out of that chair and TEACH ME SOMETHING!" She finished, bellowing the last three words.
"Detention, Fox." I said quietly. "A month's worth." I knew she had hit the nail on the head; that's why I wasn't angrier.
"Do you mean with you?"
"Yes, if Hagrid doesn't have anything for you to do. Why is that any of your concern?" I snapped.
"Well, one: It's my detention. Two: Do you really want to spend time with me outside of Remedial Potions?" She asked coldly.
"No." I answered swiftly.
"That's what I thought."
"No detention, then."
"Ha." Said Samantha quietly. She felt her face brighten with triumph. She couldn't believe she was getting out of Snape's office without so much as a detention after all she had said and done. "Thank you, Professor." She murmured and was about to walk out the door when his voice cut through the heavy dungeon air once more.
"I've been waiting for you to say that for years."
She whipped around and stared at him, narrowing her eyes, hardly daring to believe it. "You have? Why –"
"I know how you think, Miss Fox. Though you may be a Slytherin, you are more like a Gryfinndor than anything, and that's why I never paid much attention to you, or really favored you in any way at all."
"Ah, yes, you don't know how I think, Professor, but soon I will know how – and what – you think." She whispered. She pulled her wand slowly out her robes. Snape went white, for his lay across the room. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Well, I might." She smirked. "Legilimens!"
Suddenly she was in his head, flipping through layers of his mind, looking for anything of significance. He was sure putting up a fight, she would give him that. She dove into a layer near the bottom, which she figured was his childhood. It looked like it hadn't been explored for years.
It turned out that it was his childhood, and she was right, it was unhappy. She watched several fights between a rather pretty black-haired woman and hook-nosed man whom she assumed to be his parents, the snake bite he had gotten as a child, other children teasing him, and his father coming home late and drunk before she reached the most traumatic event of his childhood.
She assumed that Professor Snape was about six or seven when it happened, a very tender age. As a child, he looked frightened whenever she saw him running through his memories.
Snape went into the kitchen the backed out skittishly and stood behind the doorway, poking his head in. His father roared something in a slurred voice and slapped his mother across the face. She cried out and clutched her stinging cheek.
The fight went on, each punch more violent than the next. Finally it began to reach the climax. He punched her in the collarbone, which was already black and blue, and a loud crunch erupted. Her bleeding, crumpled, and finally defeated body wilted and fell to the polished white tile.
"No!" cried Snape. He said this a bit too loudly. His father looked over and saw him in the doorway, a manic glint in his eye. He started to slowly lumber towards him. Snape reached into his pocket and retrieved a good- sized, rather sharp looking rock, as if previously that day he had removed it from the garden, sensing that this would be the day his father would need to die.
"Severus," his father said raucously. "Come here."
"No!" Snape whispered.
"Severus Alexander! Listen to your father!" he roared.
"NO! YOU KILLED HER! I'LL – I'LL KILL YOU!" He shrieked, tears rolling down his cheeks in thick, transparent strands. He flung his arm back and threw. His father stopped dead, looking confused. Snape's aim was incredibly good; a second later the rock was lodged in the side of his father's head, forming a grotesque, bloody crater. He fell to the ground.
Snape whimpered, froze, and looked at his dead parents, not knowing quite what to do. He started to sob, but as he did, he went to the supply closet and got a metal container out. The label read: Kerosene. He set it on the counter and dashed down the hall to his room, sobbing pitifully all the way.
He packed a few objects hurriedly and swung the bag over his tiny, rounded shoulders. Then he ran into the kitchen, got the kerosene, drowned the kitchen in it, and pulled something from the back pocket of his jeans. It was a plain white book of matches.
He lit one carefully, looked at it, then tossed it into one of the puddles of kerosene on the table. The fire blazed up around him, but instead of running, he went over to his mother and kissed her head, which was caked with drying blood. Then he took one last look at them both and dashed out the back door.
Suddenly, she felt an unfamiliar tugging, and she knew it was time to go.
When Samantha snapped back to reality, the first thing she saw was Snape lying on the floor.
"Professor!" she cried in horror. She knelt down and checked his pulse. It wasn't very strong. Automatically, she glanced at the clock. It read: 12:30. Her stomach exploded with fear. How would she explain this to Madame Pomfrey?
Samantha's heart nearly froze in terror. She racked her brain, trying to think of ways to save him. She knew what had happened to him. When she had studied Legilimency, she had read that if the person that is being practiced on passes out and isn't attended to for a certain amount of time, that person could die. Her stomach sank even lower.
But she also remembered the Awakening Brew, which could awaken the drinker from any sort of sleep or state of unconsciousness except death. But, to her dismay, she knew it was the most difficult potion they were studying this year besides the Draught of Living Death itself.
She checked his pulse again. It was slightly slower. All of a sudden, in that moment, she knew his life was in her hands. She couldn't bring him to the hospital wing because Madame Pomfrey would ask questions, and she couldn't have that. She had to make the potion for him, and there was no way around it.
She sighed and went to gather the ingredients. After she had gotten all of them, she filled the cauldron with rain water and lit the fire underneath. When it was warm enough, she stirred in the shredded ivy leaf, then waited five minutes before throwing in the kneazle hairs.
She made the potion quickly but carefully. Finally she doused the flame and poured some of the contents into a beaker. She brought it over to him gingerly. With one hand she placed her thumb and forefinger on his wrist, which was almost ice cold. Her eyes widened in fear that she was too late. But she was not. His pulse was still there: a dull, sluggish throbbing.
She parted his lips with her fingers, poured some of the silver liquid in his mouth, and tilted his head back so he could swallow. She watched tentatively. Seconds later, his eyes popped open and he sputtered. Immediately, he sat straight up and she patted his back to ease his coughing.
"What –"he gasped for air. "Happened?"
"Er..." she trailed. She looked away guiltily.
"Wait." He said slowly, looking at her. Her eyes filled with tears, for she knew what was coming. "I remember...the flashes...that day...you saw my memories. You broke into my mind." He looked at her with a loathsome disbelief.
"I – I'm sorry – I had to know –"she apologized quietly. He made as if to strike her. Samantha cringed, waiting for the blow. But it didn't come. She heard a loud thump and opened her eyes to see he had banged his fist on his desk. He swiftly rushed over to her.
Liberate - my madness
(one of me, all of you)
Liberate - my madness
I just want to...
Section off myself
Put a wall up/what the hell have i done
Keep the dog at bay
Survive by saving me!
Values and the game
Not a fuck-up - not a part of your lie
I am one, i am all - i'm above and beyond!
Back off of the shit
Stand off or I'll spit
So soft, you forget
Your garbage in is garbage out
You don't give a shit
I won't play the fit
Get off, get on this
Your garbage in is garbage out
Liberate my madness...
Liberate - my madness
(one of me, all of you)
Liberate - my madness
I just want to...
I am not ashamed
What is vital isn't always humane
You can break in vain
But you can't break away
Even in my face
Lotta bullshit, not alotta the truth I can't see from here
But i can smell your fear
Back off of the shit
Stand off or I'll spit
So soft, you forget
Your garbage in is garbage out
You don't give a shit
I won't play the fit
Get off, get on this
Your garbage in is garbage out
Saved - you're such a slave - i don't expect a
Name - you don't care - i wasn't witness -
I can't be a part of a system such as this
Hard eyes - glow right - in my - darkness - again
With the sickness, renegade blisters, sisters,
Salivate, litigate, liberate, madness, sadness
Fuck this - how long have i had this?
I don't need this - outta my business
Insert, engage, betrayed, my god
Fraud
Liberate - my madness
(one of me, all of you)
Liberate - my madness
I just want to...
-Slipknot-
"One sip." He said, pulling an opaque white bottle out of his pocket, about half-full of a clear liquid.
"What's –"
"Just do it!" he hissed. She didn't fully trust him, but she took it anyways, carefully twisted the top off and took a sip. Immediately she felt as though her body was not her own, as if her mind had separated from it. She stared blankly ahead, not really feeling the need to blink. He bent close to her face.
"Are – you – being – possessed – by – the – Dark – Lord – or – are – you – one – of – his – spies?" he over-pronounced each word, making everything extremely clear.
"No." she said in a dull, flat voice. She wasn't even wholly aware that she had answered. He looked at her, pulled out his wand, and muttered something. In a flash she was back to herself again.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Veritaserum." He said. "The truth potion."
"Ah." She murmured.
"Now I need to know," he said, his voice rising. "Why you did that, Miss Fox. Why did you invade the privacy of my mind? ANSWER ME!" he roared when she remained silent. She swallowed.
"You know, you sounded just like your father when you did that." She said quietly.
That really shut him up. He froze, his mouth open a bit, his eyes wide, his face pinched with an emotion that Samantha could not quite identify. Perhaps remorse? She thought. Immediately he knew what she had seen, every little bit.
"I had to do it. He killed my mother." He said quietly. But he wasn't really talking to her any more; he was talking to himself.
"I don't blame you."
He looked up at her, hardly daring to believe it.
"You lie." He finally decided, muttering.
"And what if I don't? What if I truly don't blame you? I just don't think you want to believe that someone's finally on your side, after nobody has been for so long." She said sagely.
"It doesn't matter." He said.
"Right now it matters more than anything." He said firmly.
"Miss Fox, you are the child and I am the adult. It isn't supposed to happen this way."
"I am not a child, Professor." She said in a hushed, gentle voice. They stared at each other. Finally, he cleared his throat and they looked away. His gaze found the counter she had prepared the potion on.
"I see you made a potion. What for?"
She sighed. "You passed out, sir. I made an Awakening Brew."
His eyebrows shot up. "Really? Did it work?"
She shrugged half-heartedly. "Well, you're here now, aren't you?" He nodded. She gave a tiny yawn. He looked at the clock.
"It is late. But before you go, I insist you tell me how and why you broke into my mind." He said sternly. She sighed and sat down in the chair again.
"Well, I'm sorry I broke in, but I had to know what happened to you. And, obviously, I found out. The how part I really can't go in depth with, because...well, I just did it. Nothing extra special about it, really." She shrugged again.
"I only ask how, Miss Fox, because I am an advanced Occlumens. No one has been able to break into my mind in twenty years."
"Well, both my parents were Occlumens and Legilimens, and they started to teach me when I was five years old. I just practiced so much that I'm much more advanced than I should be."
"Ah. Fascinating. And about the Brew: Miss Fox, do you have any idea how you managed to make it correctly?" he timing?" she guessed.
"No. As I was telling you earlier, you have to give a damn about what your doing, and finally, you did. Although I don't know why you want to save me so badly. Apparent I'm just a selfish bastard, am I not?" He drawled. Her face darkened.
"I didn't know you when I said that. Now I know you."
"You will never truly know me, Miss Fox."
"So I won't, so what? Now I realize that you're not just a selfish bastard, isn't that worth something?" She smirked as she grabbed her bag, and, without so much as a goodbye, left his office.
Saving the Fallen
Nearly a month and a half had gone by since Samantha's first Remedial Potions lesson. Again and again she sensed Snape was trying to break her spirit, but she couldn't begin to wonder why. It just seemed like he wanted to hurt her, not help her, so why did he offer to tutor her?
She had not been late since her first lesson, and tonight she was on time as well. As a ritual, she knocked, he said 'Enter', she went in, he asked her to sit, and she sat and automatically got out piece of parchment and some paper. Tonight everything happened as usual, but when she commenced digging through her bag, he told her she would not need a piece of parchment nor a quill tonight.
"Tonight," he had said (much to her horror). "You are going to take a practical exam so I can see how much you've absorbed from all the lectures."
Her heart sank like a stone. She normally worked well under pressure, but if that pressure was Snape, she knew damn well she would crash and burn. And that didn't make her feel any better, either.
"You will be making the Draught of Living Death." I announced. I could see her swallow nervously. Good, I thought, smirking. Tonight she's going to crack, I know it. Tonight she'll snap in half as easily as a twig.
"Okay." She gulped. "Right...um...the water." I watched her, relishing in her nervousness as she lit the fire beneath the cauldron, poured the water as a base, and scrambled to get her ingredients. Despite of all my lectures, she was becoming quite scatterbrained. I smiled one-sidedly.
"That'll ruin the Draught if you add that, you know." I said analytically just as she dropped the wrong ingredient in. She glared up at me. "It was your mistake, not mine, Miss Fox. Don't glare at me." I said firmly. She looked back down at her cauldron, muttering.
"Add the foxtail now." I told her. She dropped it in and the cauldron billowed smoke. Beneath the smoldering whiteness, I knew that the color would come out midnight blue, just as it was supposed to be. I felt obligated to help her. I had lied when I said that the other ingredient would ruin the potion; it only changed the color. Lucky for me she didn't know that.
And lucky for her, I basically guided her through the potion. But when I turned my back for one moment, in an instant I knew she had not stirred it as many times as necessary. I turned back around and faced her, my eyes accusing. She looked at me with an innocent confusion.
"I don't know what happened!" she said. "I was just stirring it like you told me, and –"
"Except that before you supposedly 'stirred' it, the potion was midnight blue, and now it is acid green. It is still supposed to be midnight blue, Miss Fox, so how do you explain the change in color if you claim you followed my directions?" I demanded. She floundered for an answer.
"I – I –"she stuttered.
"You are a disgrace to Potion making, Miss Fox!" I snapped.
"I can't help it! I'm just bad at measuring and timing and all that!" she cried, clearly distressed. I was finally getting to her. At long last, she was going to break. I nearly smirked, then caught myself.
"It is more than that, Miss Fox! You have to give a damn about your work before you can excel in it, and you, obviously, do not –"
"That's not true!" she shouted, her lip quivering. I felt my lip curl with satisfaction. I could see the sweat trickling down her neck. I leaned forward and bent close to her face so that our breath nearly met.
"Oh, but isn't it?" I whispered, sneering. She clenched her fists.
"NO!" she shrieked. "Oh, you – you – "but she stopped and fell silent.
"Me? What about me? Go on, say it." I prompted, baring my teeth and instigating a challenge.
It looked as though she was going to burst into tears and flee, the way her lip was quivering so violently, the way her fists were clenched into menacing white balls of fury, the way her eyes and cheeks were tinged crimson, the obvious lump in her throat. Then, in one swift and frightening movement, her face cleared completely. I gasped and stood back. She grinned as I stared at her in surprise.
"You want to know what I truly think of you? Can I be honest?" she asked.
She won't say anything, I thought. She doesn't have the guts to say anything to me. This mental reassurance gave me the nerve I needed to smile sweetly back at her and reply, "But of course."
I'm cold, I'm ugly
I'm always confused by everything
I can stare into a thousand eyes
But every smile hides a bold-faced lie
It itches, it seethes, it festers and breathes
My heroes are dead, they died in my head
Thin out the herd, squeeze out the pain
Something inside me has opened up again
Thoughts of me exemplified
All the little flaws i have denied
Forget today, forget whatever happened
Everyday i see a little more of overall deficiencies
I'm nothing short of being one complete catastrophe
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?
I save all the bullets from ignorant minds
Your insults get stuck in my teeth as they grind
Way past good taste, on our way to bad omens
I decrease, while my symptoms increase
God what the fuck is wrong You act like you knew it all along
Your timing sucks, your silence is a blessing
All i ever wanted out of you was
Something you could never be
Now take a real good look at
What you've fucking done to me
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?
Gimme any reason why I'd need you, boy
Gimme any reason not to fuck you up
Gimme any reason why I'd need you, bitch
Gimme any reason not to fuck you up
I see you in me
I keep my scars from prying eyes
Incapable of ever knowing why
Somebody breathe, I've got to have an answer
Why am i so fascinated by
Bigger pictures, better things
But i don't care what you think
You'll never understand me
What the hell - did i - do to deserve - all of this?
Fuck!!!
-Slipknot-
"Well," she began, starting to shake with anger. She gritted her teeth and suddenly looked mildly unnerving. There was a strange, livid power in her deep blue eyes that I had never witnessed before. "I think you are a selfish bastard who likes to fuck with peoples heads for fun! You like to hurt people, to break people down, and it makes me SICK! The way you walk around with your abnormally large nose pointed towards the sky as if it is superior to everyone around you, as if nobody else deserves your attention! All around you see people struggling, but you do nothing to help! If your time is valuable, Professor, why don't you spend it doing something that everyone can profit from instead of just feeling sorry for yourself! Honestly, by looking at the way you turned out, you must have had a bad childhood, but you want to know something? I don't give a shit, and neither does anybody else! I'm here to learn, Professor, and that doesn't seem to be taking place, so get your ass out of that chair and TEACH ME SOMETHING!" She finished, bellowing the last three words.
"Detention, Fox." I said quietly. "A month's worth." I knew she had hit the nail on the head; that's why I wasn't angrier.
"Do you mean with you?"
"Yes, if Hagrid doesn't have anything for you to do. Why is that any of your concern?" I snapped.
"Well, one: It's my detention. Two: Do you really want to spend time with me outside of Remedial Potions?" She asked coldly.
"No." I answered swiftly.
"That's what I thought."
"No detention, then."
"Ha." Said Samantha quietly. She felt her face brighten with triumph. She couldn't believe she was getting out of Snape's office without so much as a detention after all she had said and done. "Thank you, Professor." She murmured and was about to walk out the door when his voice cut through the heavy dungeon air once more.
"I've been waiting for you to say that for years."
She whipped around and stared at him, narrowing her eyes, hardly daring to believe it. "You have? Why –"
"I know how you think, Miss Fox. Though you may be a Slytherin, you are more like a Gryfinndor than anything, and that's why I never paid much attention to you, or really favored you in any way at all."
"Ah, yes, you don't know how I think, Professor, but soon I will know how – and what – you think." She whispered. She pulled her wand slowly out her robes. Snape went white, for his lay across the room. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Well, I might." She smirked. "Legilimens!"
Suddenly she was in his head, flipping through layers of his mind, looking for anything of significance. He was sure putting up a fight, she would give him that. She dove into a layer near the bottom, which she figured was his childhood. It looked like it hadn't been explored for years.
It turned out that it was his childhood, and she was right, it was unhappy. She watched several fights between a rather pretty black-haired woman and hook-nosed man whom she assumed to be his parents, the snake bite he had gotten as a child, other children teasing him, and his father coming home late and drunk before she reached the most traumatic event of his childhood.
She assumed that Professor Snape was about six or seven when it happened, a very tender age. As a child, he looked frightened whenever she saw him running through his memories.
Snape went into the kitchen the backed out skittishly and stood behind the doorway, poking his head in. His father roared something in a slurred voice and slapped his mother across the face. She cried out and clutched her stinging cheek.
The fight went on, each punch more violent than the next. Finally it began to reach the climax. He punched her in the collarbone, which was already black and blue, and a loud crunch erupted. Her bleeding, crumpled, and finally defeated body wilted and fell to the polished white tile.
"No!" cried Snape. He said this a bit too loudly. His father looked over and saw him in the doorway, a manic glint in his eye. He started to slowly lumber towards him. Snape reached into his pocket and retrieved a good- sized, rather sharp looking rock, as if previously that day he had removed it from the garden, sensing that this would be the day his father would need to die.
"Severus," his father said raucously. "Come here."
"No!" Snape whispered.
"Severus Alexander! Listen to your father!" he roared.
"NO! YOU KILLED HER! I'LL – I'LL KILL YOU!" He shrieked, tears rolling down his cheeks in thick, transparent strands. He flung his arm back and threw. His father stopped dead, looking confused. Snape's aim was incredibly good; a second later the rock was lodged in the side of his father's head, forming a grotesque, bloody crater. He fell to the ground.
Snape whimpered, froze, and looked at his dead parents, not knowing quite what to do. He started to sob, but as he did, he went to the supply closet and got a metal container out. The label read: Kerosene. He set it on the counter and dashed down the hall to his room, sobbing pitifully all the way.
He packed a few objects hurriedly and swung the bag over his tiny, rounded shoulders. Then he ran into the kitchen, got the kerosene, drowned the kitchen in it, and pulled something from the back pocket of his jeans. It was a plain white book of matches.
He lit one carefully, looked at it, then tossed it into one of the puddles of kerosene on the table. The fire blazed up around him, but instead of running, he went over to his mother and kissed her head, which was caked with drying blood. Then he took one last look at them both and dashed out the back door.
Suddenly, she felt an unfamiliar tugging, and she knew it was time to go.
When Samantha snapped back to reality, the first thing she saw was Snape lying on the floor.
"Professor!" she cried in horror. She knelt down and checked his pulse. It wasn't very strong. Automatically, she glanced at the clock. It read: 12:30. Her stomach exploded with fear. How would she explain this to Madame Pomfrey?
Samantha's heart nearly froze in terror. She racked her brain, trying to think of ways to save him. She knew what had happened to him. When she had studied Legilimency, she had read that if the person that is being practiced on passes out and isn't attended to for a certain amount of time, that person could die. Her stomach sank even lower.
But she also remembered the Awakening Brew, which could awaken the drinker from any sort of sleep or state of unconsciousness except death. But, to her dismay, she knew it was the most difficult potion they were studying this year besides the Draught of Living Death itself.
She checked his pulse again. It was slightly slower. All of a sudden, in that moment, she knew his life was in her hands. She couldn't bring him to the hospital wing because Madame Pomfrey would ask questions, and she couldn't have that. She had to make the potion for him, and there was no way around it.
She sighed and went to gather the ingredients. After she had gotten all of them, she filled the cauldron with rain water and lit the fire underneath. When it was warm enough, she stirred in the shredded ivy leaf, then waited five minutes before throwing in the kneazle hairs.
She made the potion quickly but carefully. Finally she doused the flame and poured some of the contents into a beaker. She brought it over to him gingerly. With one hand she placed her thumb and forefinger on his wrist, which was almost ice cold. Her eyes widened in fear that she was too late. But she was not. His pulse was still there: a dull, sluggish throbbing.
She parted his lips with her fingers, poured some of the silver liquid in his mouth, and tilted his head back so he could swallow. She watched tentatively. Seconds later, his eyes popped open and he sputtered. Immediately, he sat straight up and she patted his back to ease his coughing.
"What –"he gasped for air. "Happened?"
"Er..." she trailed. She looked away guiltily.
"Wait." He said slowly, looking at her. Her eyes filled with tears, for she knew what was coming. "I remember...the flashes...that day...you saw my memories. You broke into my mind." He looked at her with a loathsome disbelief.
"I – I'm sorry – I had to know –"she apologized quietly. He made as if to strike her. Samantha cringed, waiting for the blow. But it didn't come. She heard a loud thump and opened her eyes to see he had banged his fist on his desk. He swiftly rushed over to her.
Liberate - my madness
(one of me, all of you)
Liberate - my madness
I just want to...
Section off myself
Put a wall up/what the hell have i done
Keep the dog at bay
Survive by saving me!
Values and the game
Not a fuck-up - not a part of your lie
I am one, i am all - i'm above and beyond!
Back off of the shit
Stand off or I'll spit
So soft, you forget
Your garbage in is garbage out
You don't give a shit
I won't play the fit
Get off, get on this
Your garbage in is garbage out
Liberate my madness...
Liberate - my madness
(one of me, all of you)
Liberate - my madness
I just want to...
I am not ashamed
What is vital isn't always humane
You can break in vain
But you can't break away
Even in my face
Lotta bullshit, not alotta the truth I can't see from here
But i can smell your fear
Back off of the shit
Stand off or I'll spit
So soft, you forget
Your garbage in is garbage out
You don't give a shit
I won't play the fit
Get off, get on this
Your garbage in is garbage out
Saved - you're such a slave - i don't expect a
Name - you don't care - i wasn't witness -
I can't be a part of a system such as this
Hard eyes - glow right - in my - darkness - again
With the sickness, renegade blisters, sisters,
Salivate, litigate, liberate, madness, sadness
Fuck this - how long have i had this?
I don't need this - outta my business
Insert, engage, betrayed, my god
Fraud
Liberate - my madness
(one of me, all of you)
Liberate - my madness
I just want to...
-Slipknot-
"One sip." He said, pulling an opaque white bottle out of his pocket, about half-full of a clear liquid.
"What's –"
"Just do it!" he hissed. She didn't fully trust him, but she took it anyways, carefully twisted the top off and took a sip. Immediately she felt as though her body was not her own, as if her mind had separated from it. She stared blankly ahead, not really feeling the need to blink. He bent close to her face.
"Are – you – being – possessed – by – the – Dark – Lord – or – are – you – one – of – his – spies?" he over-pronounced each word, making everything extremely clear.
"No." she said in a dull, flat voice. She wasn't even wholly aware that she had answered. He looked at her, pulled out his wand, and muttered something. In a flash she was back to herself again.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Veritaserum." He said. "The truth potion."
"Ah." She murmured.
"Now I need to know," he said, his voice rising. "Why you did that, Miss Fox. Why did you invade the privacy of my mind? ANSWER ME!" he roared when she remained silent. She swallowed.
"You know, you sounded just like your father when you did that." She said quietly.
That really shut him up. He froze, his mouth open a bit, his eyes wide, his face pinched with an emotion that Samantha could not quite identify. Perhaps remorse? She thought. Immediately he knew what she had seen, every little bit.
"I had to do it. He killed my mother." He said quietly. But he wasn't really talking to her any more; he was talking to himself.
"I don't blame you."
He looked up at her, hardly daring to believe it.
"You lie." He finally decided, muttering.
"And what if I don't? What if I truly don't blame you? I just don't think you want to believe that someone's finally on your side, after nobody has been for so long." She said sagely.
"It doesn't matter." He said.
"Right now it matters more than anything." He said firmly.
"Miss Fox, you are the child and I am the adult. It isn't supposed to happen this way."
"I am not a child, Professor." She said in a hushed, gentle voice. They stared at each other. Finally, he cleared his throat and they looked away. His gaze found the counter she had prepared the potion on.
"I see you made a potion. What for?"
She sighed. "You passed out, sir. I made an Awakening Brew."
His eyebrows shot up. "Really? Did it work?"
She shrugged half-heartedly. "Well, you're here now, aren't you?" He nodded. She gave a tiny yawn. He looked at the clock.
"It is late. But before you go, I insist you tell me how and why you broke into my mind." He said sternly. She sighed and sat down in the chair again.
"Well, I'm sorry I broke in, but I had to know what happened to you. And, obviously, I found out. The how part I really can't go in depth with, because...well, I just did it. Nothing extra special about it, really." She shrugged again.
"I only ask how, Miss Fox, because I am an advanced Occlumens. No one has been able to break into my mind in twenty years."
"Well, both my parents were Occlumens and Legilimens, and they started to teach me when I was five years old. I just practiced so much that I'm much more advanced than I should be."
"Ah. Fascinating. And about the Brew: Miss Fox, do you have any idea how you managed to make it correctly?" he timing?" she guessed.
"No. As I was telling you earlier, you have to give a damn about what your doing, and finally, you did. Although I don't know why you want to save me so badly. Apparent I'm just a selfish bastard, am I not?" He drawled. Her face darkened.
"I didn't know you when I said that. Now I know you."
"You will never truly know me, Miss Fox."
"So I won't, so what? Now I realize that you're not just a selfish bastard, isn't that worth something?" She smirked as she grabbed her bag, and, without so much as a goodbye, left his office.