Chapter Four
December 22, 1979: departs: London, England at 9:35 p.m. – arrives: Edinburgh, England December 22, 1979 at 1:37 a.m.
The cracked and yellowed slip of a ticket was still resting faithfully between the cloth covers of a particularly boring book Severus was sure no one in a thousand years would have touched, saved Hermione Granger and she was nowhere near his study, his secret home away from home. He didn't need to glance at the slip, the letters, the tearstains to remember what he had tried to forget so long ago.
It haunted his dreams whenever he let his guard down. He could remember every lingering note of the ballet they had watched—never the Nutcracker, she had always proclaimed how cliché that particular show was to see during the Winter Holidays, and he had obliged her eccentricities. He remembered the taste of the buttered rum, more potent than one would have expected, but then again, that had cost him an arm and a leg as well, so it had better be damn good, as he had commented when they first toasted to a new year of excitement, a future of the three of them. He could still smell the mustiness of the seats they had managed to purchase for that particular show. It had been a year of hard work, scrimping and saving every galleon and knut for those tickets, and he would never forget the pure, unadultered joy that had lit the features of Juniper Lunar when he had presented them to her as an early Yule Gift. She was equally touched that he had remembered to include a third ticket for her best of all friends. The three of them had been almost as inseparable as Potter, Weasely, and Granger.
No. He hadn't forgotten.
And judging by the fear that had formed on her features no more than two weeks ago when that explosion had occurred in Potions, neither had she.
It chilled him to the very bone whenever he thought of that particular moment in his past.
Again, Severus found the familiar blue bottle and small, chipped glass in his hands. This time, it had taken far more to place him in the sedative state he was now blissfully experiencing. One he did not relish casting off in a few hours time. Potter and Longbottom had been given overly stern lectures on following potions procedures and their little team had been divided in class. They had spent two days cleaning the classroom, by hand, muggle-style, and Severus had only wished he could have destroyed it a second time just to see them squirm. But no, he would not be cruel, not with them anyhow. Not yet.
He took another swig of the disgusting green liquid; aware he was pushing himself, taking things a little too far. He didn't care, he wanted to be lost, gone in another world for once, leaving his own god forsaken hell far behind; never to return. But things were never that simple. She had seen to that, just by returning back into his life. He was surprised her twin hadn't accompanied her, but then again, wherever one was, the other was certainly lurking around the next corner.
"Where are you, Queen Mab?" he muttered to no one and himself all the same, before letting his chin drop to his chest and his world-weary eyes finally close in a much-needed sleep.
In a swirl of fury, the emerald green cloak that signaled the end of Autumn and the beginnings of Winter for a petite brunette, whipped about the corners of Hogwarts. Her footsteps heavy, almost thundering as she flew past empty classrooms and quiet corridors, before stalking out into the bright light of a fading season. A chill had settled upon the grounds the night before, and this last day of warmth was drawing the students outside in swarms-even the studious Ravenclaws were gathered under the trees in clusters as they studied and pored over their text books. Swerving away from the crowds that were nearby, she turned the corner of school building and found herself tracing a slightly worn path that led to the Forbidden Forest; its gnarled trees and dark underbrush unusually deceptive-they were almost inviting this morning. Thrashing through like a madwoman, Juniper stalked through as if she had naught a care in the world, following a memory and a dream in her mind as she wove through the thickening trees. It was darker as she moved deeper into the heart of the forest, and soon, all light and warmth had escaped her vision.
"Lumos." Her wand tip ignited and she followed the beam of light it created carefully now, watching her feet so as not to trip over protruding roots. Before long, she had reached a circular clearing in the trees, one where a ring of toadstools rested within the center. She skirted the toadstools warily and continued on, a slight trickle of sweat under her arms. That was close, too close to danger. She would have to slow her pace.
Past the dropping ferns and fronds, she found herself at the edge of a dark stream, whose rippling surface, unlike other streams, was silent as death itself. The obsidian waves a dark opaque that hid from view anything dwelling below. Clutching her wand tighter, Juniper walked up the length of the river, before the thick trees blocked her path. No bridge was visible. She followed it back down, daring not to pause for more than moment's breath. As her eyes raked the space of light her wand provided, she finally spotted the rotting, swinging bridge that she had been told would be here. It looked more than unsafe, but her nerves were steeled. Slipping the slender wood of her wand between her teeth, she gripped the vines and rope that were handrails and slid her foot onto the first decayed plank that would lead her across. It swayed beneath her weight, but she forged ahead, alighting gratefully on the path opposite the end she had started, amazed she had not dropped over to her death while crossing. Though the bridge was above the troubled waters no more than a foot or two at most, and the stream itself couldn't have been very deep, its darkness held other secrets she dare not reveal today.
Her journey led her on till she reached an old, but well kept shack that leaned against one of the larger trees in this part of the forest. Her heart thundered in her chest as she moved towards the doorframe, its dark stained wood almost as menacing as the stream itself had been. The door was on slightly rusted hinges, and she could sense movement behind the curtained windows, which no light came from, though a fire must have been warming the inside, since smoke puffed lazily out of the chimney. Raising her fist, she tapped lightly on the door, once, then paused, before tapping three times in rapid succession, pausing once more, to tap twice before dropping her hand to her side. Her wand was held ready behind her back and she knew that if she had been followed, it would be of no use.
The shuffling of feet met her pricked ears. She strained them for any more sound. The scrape of a chair and another pair of feet, following the first, with a whispered argument before the door began to crack open ever so slightly.
"Password." A low voice grunted. With a smile of relief, she pocketed her wand.
"Thank god, it is you, "her voice betrayed her joy, "Buckbeak's Brigade." The door swung open and she was ushered in, among a hearty set of greetings, the light of the interior indeed a warm glow from the roaring fire, before it was closed swiftly off from the darkness outside.
Splintered wood littered the stone floor and the cursing that had echoed only moments before in Snape's private chamber seemed to still reverbrate on the walls. His beloved guitar was destroyed, his own hands having done the deed, and now he pulled the splinters from the calloused palms with a vengeance, his heart hurting in a way he had tried to hide for the past fifteen years. How could he have been so blind as to not see what was happening to himself until now? That question had invaded his mind once the effects of the absinthe had worn off, and the darkness had pulled him under. Strange fantasies had visited his mind this time, dragging him into the well of despair he knew he harbored in his lonely breast. He had been deceived, and there was no one to blame but himself.
With a wave of his wand, the mess was swept into a dustbin. Locking the cabinet that hid his poison, Severus strode to the window and gazed upon the campus grounds below. No doubt he had missed out on another truly spectacular fading Autumn day, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the lagging students slowly beginning to stretch and retire to the castle itself. Save for a few. Some children were practicing their quidditch, others were still insisting on working on their homework outside. His face drew into a grimacing scowl as he spied Potter, Weasely, and Granger gallivanting about near the pond, their laughter loud, their actions animated. When Potter's back was turned, he saw the look of longing Weasely chanced at the ever-shapely Miss Granger.
Severus's frown deepened and he turned away, the past once again trying to force itself into the foreground of his mind. But the strings were already thrumming in his mind, the telltale bass of the brass and the building of the drums, as the lights dimmed and a stage glowed in his memory. Opening the trapdoor in the floor, he shoved himself down it, shoving the memory in an equally rough manner to the recesses of his mind's eye. It was high time he saw the Headmaster and received his instructions for the Winter Holidays—he had little time to prepare otherwise.
The hallways were littered with students when he made his own angry stalking through the corridors and stairwells, several times he had to fight the urge to remove house points from his own house as the fervor of the day oozed from every smile and excited chattering of conversation. He felt satiated in the fact that he had at least diminished the house points of Hufflepuff by fifteen, with Ravenclaw at a close second with ten. Gryffindor students were enraged to learn they had lost a whopping thirty points in the short span it took them to reach their common room from the front doors. But his misery did not destroy the festive spirits of those incorrigible students, and he knew that it would not be long before Filch, McGonagall and a fair few others would have to tame the noise of their dormitories. Finding himself at the secret entrance of the Headmaster's office (or as it seemed thanks to Potter and Weasely, not so secret after all), he muttered the password and waited patiently for the revolving stairs to draw him to the closest thing to a father he had ever known.
It was with great trepidation that he entered Dumbledore's office, knowing that whatever the consequences would be, his actions would serve a greater good. Though it didn't make it any easier to know that his life was hanging in a delicate balance every time he set foot outside of the school castle. Dumbledore himself was waiting patiently when Severus entered, standing regally behind his desk, hands resting comfortably on the scrolls and parchments that littered its face this evening.
"Good evening, Headmaster." He was hiding something; Dumbledore always knew when he was.
"Good evening, Severus. And how are you feeling on this fine day?" Snape kept his eyes unfocused and slightly downcast.
"Fine, Headmaster." With a heavy sigh, Dumbledore came from around his desk, resting his hand on Severus' shoulder.
"Severus, my boy, its quite alright to not be fine, even when you so most desperately long to." Snape let his gaze fall to his feet. Dumbledore released his hold and turned back to his desk, plucking a small object from it that was strangely shaped. "Now, as we all know, the Winter Holidays are coming upon us at a rather rapid pace. And I don't want my professors to become over stressed. We have several more new instructors arriving from around the globe and I just wanted to warn you beforehand what to expect. Here is a detailed list I am sure the enemy would like to have fall into their hands-" he handed over a list of false identities to Severus and watched as the professor perused it for a moment, before nodding his head and sliding it into his robes, "And here is a sealed list of the true newcomers we can expect to pop up in the next few weeks." Severus again nodded, and pocketed the cylindrical device that held the documents safely inside, vowing to read it later at his leisure.
"Now, we both know what must be done. These are secure points here and here, safe houses if you will-"he gestured to a large map that was spread across his desk, where certain purple glowing pinpricks were marked, "These people who have willingly gone on the first list will not go down without a fight, though most are aware they may indeed still go down. They are prepared for this challenge that has been set forth, they know their orders, the only thing is, they are unaware that you are working under my orders. This secret must be kept from them at all costs, do you understand me, Severus?" he smiled a frightening, yellowed smile at the Headmaster.
"I understand, Headmaster. I will not let you down." The headmaster pressed his lids closed, and sighed once more.
"I never doubted that you would, my boy. Now, one more thing, and I think this shall really tickle your fancy. An early Yule present, Severus." He handed over the strangely shaped package, and a merry twinkle filled his eyes.
"Ah, ah, ah!" he warned as Snape's fingers darted to the green ribbon like a spider, "Wait until you are alone, in the privacy of your chambers." With a warmer smile, he pocketed the present along with his papers and bowed slightly.
"Thank you, Headmaster." Albus waved it away offhandedly.
"Think nothing of it, do you hear me?" checking the sky outside his window, Dumbledore gathered the papers on his desk rather swiftly, "Well, we must get going, Professor Snape; there is a feast to attend to this evening, you know. A most wonderful feast if I am to trust the report a certain house elf presented me with this morning." Severus followed the Headmaster until they had reached the landing for the feast, though while his heart yearned to enter the Great Hall and join his fellow scholars, he hesitated, mumbling an excuse about having to change his robes. The merry twinkle in Albus' eyes did not diminish as the brooding Potions Master stalked away.
It took him moments to find his office hidden far below the school, cool and welcoming, despite its austere and silent appearance. Resting the objects he had received on his own desk, Severus examined the packaged carefully.
An early Yule present, the words echoed in his heart. It seemed as if an eternity has swelled between this year and the last. His past few Yule presents had been, admittedly, strange, though always thoughtful. Dumbledore had a habit of handing out warm, woolen socks with each House Crest sewn on them, and while Severus found that his socks did tend to disintegrate rather quickly, those particular pairs always managed to last until the very day he received a new pair. Only on a few rare occasions did Dumbledore find something truly unique that warranted being presented to his educators; like the year he had given Severus several crystal phials for some particularly potent potions.
And this package indeed suggested something far more interesting than a pair of socks.
Still, he held his curiosity at bay, and instead took out his wand, tapping the tightly encased parchments of the new arrivals names. The list wasn't as long as the first arrivals had been—it seemed only two schools were sending forth their professors and students, and a fewer number of pupils than the first set had sent along with Juniper, Willow and the others.
The scent of Willow seemed to catch Severus off guard, his dark eyes suddenly darting about to see if she were near. The door to his office was securely locked, but were those footsteps he heard approaching? Resealing the papers, he slid them securely into his pockets once more, and stood as the knock sounded, strong and confident.
"Come in." a flick of the wrist unlocked the door, allowing the auburn curled head to peak in, a large smile lighting those pale features and stunning blue eyes. He held his stoic stance, returning a vague, half lipped grin.
"Professor, I was wondering if you were going to join us for the feast this evening. I rather suspected you would be locked away in your office until the wee hours of the morning if I didn't check in on you." Snape allowed his head to tip a bit in agreement.
"How kind of you, Professor Solaris. I was just on my to the Great Hall-after tidying up, I'm sure you can understand." Her smile never faltered, as she offered an arm.
"Wonderful, than you shan't mind accompanying me?" Here he held back, staring at the slender, milk colored skin as the dark cloak and robes fell back. The memory of an orchestra tempted his ears, but with a force unknown to even himself, he shoved the betraying thoughts back, far back and slid his cold hand through her elbow, taking the lead and allowing his arm to be the one she instead took.
"It would be my pleasure." The words oozed like oil and with another dazzling smile in his direction, she allowed him to lead them away from his office and the small Yule present resting atop the desk.
Hogwart's students were known for their gossip; the teaching staff themselves were rather adept gossips as well, though few of the students were aware of that fact. When Willow and Severus made a rather dramatic entrance into the Great Hall, the feast had already begun, and many a head turned, swiveled or did a double take in their direction. It was with grim satisfaction that Severus noticed not only Potter's green eyes bulging out of his head, but another, lovelier pair mimicking that reaction from the staff table. They glided forth, seemingly without a care in the world, and leaving even Dumbledore a little taken aback as the two seated themselves in their respective seats, Willow leaning in rather suggestively to whisper a thank you and farewell before turning her attention elsewhere.
The feast this year had really been outdone in its planning and preparation, Severus noted this as he selected a particularly rare filet for his plate, ladling steamy aromatic potatoes beside it and spearing some rather exotic looking vegetables to taste. And the wine provided was of exceptional quality, leaving a lingering flavor on his tongue as he tried an aged, blood colored Shiraz. The students buzzed below, and all around was laughter and merriment, with only a thin note of worry veiled behind McGonnagall's tight lips and Sinistra's usually low tones. Severus himself felt his eyes begin to itch with sleep as he filled his belly as much as he allowed-for he was a man who had learned a bit of self-discipline long ago. When the desserts made their entrance surrounded by a great many ooh's and ahh's, he felt the need to slip quietly away and take his leave. Inching his chair back slowly, he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a now slightly soiled napkin, keeping his eyes downcast for only a moment; when he saw the hand rather before he felt its steel like grip on his own.
Delicately tanned, small like a child's, with scars fresh and old, it held him back. He dared not chance a look to his left to see who clutched him so, but he felt the need in a small wave. No words were uttered, though a thousand emotions coursed between them. Hesitation held him in place, before common sense took the lead.
"Merry Yule." He whispered, almost a hiss in the elf-like ears of the sweetly scented woman to his left, as he slid his arm from her hand. Juniper was silent, but he could feel the disappointment in her heart as she bowed her head slightly to her plate, stung by the coldness of those normally cheerful words. He was gone with a swirl of black clothe, as always; leaving behind the pain and stunned response he was so accustomed to receiving from his students.
Back in the sanctity of the stone walls that were his office, long white fingers unfurled once more the cream colored parchment whose purple letters held the fate of many a person in his hands. It wouldn't be the first time Severus would betray the innocent, but that didn't make it any easier for him to do so. It didn't help that his abuse of a certain liquor had increased over the past few weeks, or that he was being haunted by two very painful memories at any given moment of the day.
Clearing his throat, Severus stowed the expendable list in a drawer of his desk, preparing himself to discover any familiar names on the list of true arrivals—he was not prepared for the blow he received once he did examine the list in detail. Printed in neat letters was an all too familiar person.
Professor Maeve Freya Ulster.
Severus felt the seconds slip away as if a thousand years had, eyes glued to the sheet he now clutched tightly. No, it couldn't be ... he reasoned with himself, still, the words stayed. The orchestra rose in volumes now, practically deafening him, as he hurled the scrolls across the room, eyes wild, breathing shallow. Could he never escape the past? Must it plague him for the remainder of his miserable existence?
Crazed eyes fell upon the package, small and forlorn against the dark wood of his desk. With an earnest energy that caught even himself off guard, he drew the present to his breast, tearing away the paper of the package as fast as he could mange.
A small, triangular box rested neatly in his palm, the light wood gleaming in the candlelight; a series of carving burned deep within its surface. Severus turned it over in his palms, aware of how large his hands now seemed as they held this delicate creation. The carvings were soon revealed to be a series of panels, one on each side depicting a scene from an old story, one he knew all too well. He kept his breathing level, slowly prying open the lips of this odd little box, dreading what he now suspected was nestled inside.
Severus felt as if the final blow had been dealt. He knew that the Headmaster must have either had incredibly good intentions or horribly bad judgment or both as his dark eyes misted over with unshed tears, the knife he had felt so recently puncturing his stomach, lungs and back now wedged deep within his heart.
A set of tickets greeted his eyes; dated for December 22 at the London Opera House, for a ballet he hadn't seen in sixteen years.