Just now, she was free. Susan was free, rather, but that detail had seemed inconsequential to her until twenty minutes ago.
The thoughts spun inside her head like a film--granted, they were reminiscent of the worst sort of straight-to-video film--like an uninterrupted circuit, overwhelming her logic and overriding her previous plan to reveal her true identity.
"Why are you still here?" Snape's voice cut through her muddled thoughts, forcing her to focus on the matter at hand.
"I'll go now," she replied evenly. "You said you wanted answers, Professor, but I say this: If you cannot detect the fabrication, you will never unearth the inventor." Before Snape could shout at her, Susan made her way to the door.
I have to leave Hogwarts. I don't belong here; I never did.
Susan began to collect her meagre possessions, starting with the box she had left in Dumbledore's possession years ago.
Daily I dreamt of deliverance, never knowing nightly peace. My burden belongs beyond the barrier of right and wrong, farther from the following fright. Release the refugee who hides inside of me. Restrain the pain, potent and profound.
Why she had not thought of leaving sooner escaped her now; it all seemed very clear. She was almost ready to leave. The last item she placed in her satchel was the red wand, though she was sure not to need it. Still, it was hers. She had so little left of her former life, she felt entitled to this small, thin scrap of magical wood. Whatever she was now, she had once been a witch.
As twilight shifted to moonlight, Susan Jones/Maria Santiago, the ordinary face with the extraordinary soul, left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to live her own life. For a woman such as she, that was quite a feat.
Had it been any other evening of any other day of any other week, Severus Snape would have noticed the woman passing by his dungeon doors. But it was not any other evening of any other day of any other week; it was the end of a very trying day, which fell at the conclusion of a horrendous week.
Snape decided that he was finished with Miss Susan-Maria-Santiago-Jones, otherwise known to him as Lady Rhyme-Lacking-Reason or Madam Penchant-For-Purposeless-Poems. The moment she stepped out of his office, he had scourgified his hands of her.
Didn't he have enough to worry about, what with watching over Potter and guarding that damnable Philosopher's Stone, which Dumbledore had secreted in the bowels of the castle? Snape's crockery was bloody well overflowing with obligations.
Still, as he lay in bed a few hours later, he was assaulted by a ruthless feeling: He wanted her.
The Shrieking Shack hadn't changed in years. It was as though the place had been built aged, for it had never looked new. In his youth, the structure had looked this way, weak and rotten. There was a pall of darkness that seemed to envelop the room at every hour.
A puff of dust leapt out from under him as Remus sat down on an old, sprung sofa. He knew Dumbledore would arrive soon.
"Lovely evening, isn't it?" Dumbledore said cheerily as he entered the room.
"Where is she?"
"Maria is occupied at the moment, I am afraid."
"Typical," muttered Lupin. "How is she?"
"Average," was the only reply.
"Do you know who wants the case reopened?"
"Yes. Meriwether Nott."
"Meriwether Nott? Damien's ex-wife? I thought she was pleased that Damien was gone for good."
"Her point of view seems to have changed," added Dumbledore. "There is some question about inheritance. Since the matter of Damien's death has not been settled, the Nott Estate cannot be divided and distributed among the beneficiaries, one of whom is Meriwether."
Remus heaved a sigh of frustration as he stood up from the decaying couch. He ran his hands through his greying hair while he walked over to the dirt-streaked and boarded window. He did not want to ask the question. More than that, he did not want Dumbledore to confirm what he already knew. But he needed to ask the question because he could not avoid it any longer. It had been almost six years since the incident; perhaps there was a chance.
He spun around to face the sage wizard. "What will happen to her? If they find her guilty and she is sent to Azkaban, what will happen to her?"
Dumbledore's lips tightened when he said, "I think we both know the answer to that, even after all this time."
"It is a time I would prefer to forget," admitted Remus.
oooo 19 April 1984 oooo
She approached the little house. It was a house where her family had stayed many times, a place she had always considered a second home. But her aunt and uncle had passed away now, leaving only her cousin, whom she loved like a brother, to live by himself in the cosy, seven-room bungalow. She knocked on the door, hoping Remus was home, for she desperately needed to talk with him about her sister.
The door opened. "Hello! I thought you were still in Argentina studying for your examinations," said a surprised Remus Lupin.
She flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his chest. "Well, I'm glad to see you, too," he ventured, nonplussed by her emotional greeting. He slipped a knuckle under her chin to lift it. The usually happy, bright eyes he saw held a look of desperation.
"What's the matter?" he asked, frowning.
"It's about Maria, Remus. May I come in?"
He ushered her in and shut the door behind them. "Want some tea? I have a little brandy I could add to it."
She nodded and said, "Just the thing."
Following him into the kitchen, she sat on a wooden bench by the table. He handed her a cup, and then joined her on the bench, sitting beside her.
"She's still seeing him, isn't she?" Remus guessed.
"Yes," his cousin whispered. "I just don't understand it! Maria is so much sharper than this." She paused to take a sip of tea before continuing. "Remus, she looks dreadful! I have never known her to be so quiet, and her eyes have dark circles under them as if she never rests."
"I'm sorry. I know this must be killing you."
"It is. I miss her so much. The worst of it is that he's been hurting her. She tried to cover the marks, but she missed the ones on her neck."
Remus shook his head and took a deep breath. "He should die for using her like that! How long has this been going on?"
"She won't tell me. She tried to deny it, but she can't keep things like that from me. She claims it was just a couple of times, that she deserved it, and that he promised never to do it again."
"Right. Rotten, sick bastards are always sorry, aren't they?" Remus hissed angrily. "And it's never their fault."
"I'm scared. If he finds out about Dad…"
"Do you think he suspects?" Remus asked.
"No, but how long can you keep a thing like that a secret? Someone is bound to figure out that Arturo Santiago died before Maria and I were even born! What was she thinking? Those Death Eater types are all alike. They will feast on her flesh when they find out she's a Mudblood."
"You're probably right. I hate to say it, but Nott might kill her even if he never finds out about Uncle Diego."
"What can I do? I swear I have tried everything. She simply won't listen to me anymore."
Remus thought for a moment. "I know a wizard who seems to have many answers," he said. "He is the best man I've ever met, and I would trust him with my life."
"Who?" she asked.
"Albus Dumbledore."
"The headmaster from your old school? How could he help me? He doesn't even know me, Remus."
"He accepted me to Hogwarts knowing full well that I bore the Lycanthrope Curse. He is a wise and generous man. It couldn't do any harm to seek his guidance."
"I would give anything, Remus, anything to get her away from him."
"Then I will meet with Dumbledore first thing tomorrow and inform him of the situation."
"Thank you. I love you, Remus. What would I do without you?"
He smiled wryly at his cousin and replied, "Oh, you'd probably be rich and famous and married to a prince."
She laughed but said, "Spot on, my dear Lupin!"
oooo present oooo
The moon was in the waxing gibbous phase. Brilliant, white light illuminated the furnishings in the shack, casting a familiar warning that the full moon was soon to wake. In years past, this place would have been his harbour for the coming transformation; however, this night, it seemed more eerie than secure.
"Albus, do you believe she's guilty?"
"What I believe, Remus, is that Maria believes herself to be guilty. Neither of us knows what happened that night at Nott Manor. There is only one living person who does know, and she may be so lost in herself that she would rather face imprisonment than rediscover the truth."
Susan was on her way to Hogsmeade. She had no plans beyond going to the village, at least not this night. It really was a beautiful night, even if this was her least favourite season. The leaves still on the trees were thin and colourful; even in the darkness she could make out the scarlet and ginger flush of the last surviving foliage. It was dark out there, save the moonlight, which bathed the landscape in a cool, white wash.
She told herself that she was hurrying along to stay warm, but it was fear that actually quickened her pace. There was a chance that Snape or Dumbledore or some other inhabitant of the castle was aware she had left and was dogging her tracks.
Why am I so afraid? If they find me, I'll only have to go back to Hogwarts. This is childish, my running out like this, especially after everything Dumbledore and Remus have done for me.
Irritated with herself, Susan shook her head. The moon came into full view suddenly, sliding out from behind a screen of thin clouds. The sight caused her to stop and stare pensively at the sky. Remus... How can a rock in outer space touch one's life and fix one's place? The question clouds my mind like lace whenever I search its pallid face. One last glance, and she was on her way.
It was far too early to get out of bed. It was Saturday, the day he always slept until nine, a bit of a lie in. The knock on his door aggravated him. Snape closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and pulled the blankets over his head. If he ignored the noise long enough, surely it would stop.
It did not. Flinging the blankets off in a grand, dramatic swoosh, Severus sprang out of bed and marched angrily to the blasted door. He jerked it open and hissed, "What is it?"
The unsympathetic face of Minerva McGonagall greeted the Potions master. "Good morning to you too, Severus," she said flatly. "I came to see if you had finished the--" she looked cautiously about the hallway, "--Potions project for Albus."
Well, of all the bloody... "Could this not have waited a few more hours, Minerva?" Snape grumbled. "Of course I finished the project. I doubt anyone will be able to solve the puzzle I created."
Dumbledore had asked him to devise an obstacle for the course that impeded the path to the Stone--that accursed Stone. Was it merely a coincidence that the Gringotts' vault had been raided almost immediately after the Stone's removal? Any number of seamy characters could be keen on acquiring the precious pebble.
Snape had completed his part of the defences without complaint; however, he did object to being badgered about it at the ungodly hour of six on a Saturday morning. "If that is all…" he said darkly while he began to close the door.
"Er, just one more thing," Minerva huffed. "Hagrid may require your assistance around noon. That darling pet of his can be quite formidable."
"Pet?" Snape snorted. "Menace, is what I would call it. Very well. Good day, Minerva."
He shut the door in his colleague's face and marched to his bathroom. After relieving himself, he took his time washing his face, as that activity always relaxed him. He looked into the mirror, studying the water trickling down his features. Some drops had collected at the tip of his nose warped and pointed nose. It was difficult to look into the mirror and see the object of one's loathing grimacing back.
There were far too many things in life that remained uncertain; far too few were definite. Certainties included breathing, sleeping, eating, and the like. To that list, Snape had added other predictable aspects of his existence, including being highly aggravated and grossly underappreciated by colleagues, students, and the general populations of Europe, Asia, the Austral Realm, North and South America, and certain islands of the South Pacific.
Only when in atypical seclusion was Snape even remotely at ease, though he disturbed himself more than anyone knew except, perhaps, Dumbledore, who seemed to know everything. Severus dried his face, having had his fill of self-pity. On his way back to bed, he decided that what he needed most just now was a night of release.
There was a little-known bordello hidden just outside the village of Hogsmeade. Snape had patronised the establishment over the last decade or so. He was realistic; he knew a man such as he was unlikely to attract a woman, and so he was resigned to pay for his pleasures.
"The usual, professor?"
"No, Clara, different tonight," Severus replied.
"Different how?"
"Just do what I tell you."
Tonight, his lady of the evening had been costumed according to his stated desire. The woman now bore an uncanny resemblance to Miss Jones --after a few magical modifications, of course. She proved to be an adequate, if not overwhelming, distraction.
Partially satisfied, in at least two different ways, Severus Snape swung his robe around his shoulders and left the room in search of a stiff drink, possibly more than one. He had the feeling that if he had just had a go with Susan, he would be feeling far more satisfied right now. He could hear sounds from other customers behind the doors he passed on his way out. Place needs silencing charms, Snape thought critically as he descended the stairs and entered the pub section of the establishment.
Sometime later...
"Felling better?" asked the Madam from behind the bar. "Come for a nightcap?"
Severus sat on the stool at the bar and nodded at her.
"You've never request that your gal be dowdy and dull before," she commented, as she poured him a brandy. "Most men like them plump and pretty."
"Spare me the exposition, Annie," Snape said wearily as he sipped his drink. "I should think it bad for your business, such as it is."
"If you want me to expose myself, that'll cost you extra," she huffed.
Snape looked blankly at the woman. "Have you a copy of the Prophet?" Reading might discourage her Madam from talking to me.
"Don't get it regular." Annie bent down and pulled out a stack of flaking, yellowed newspapers. "These are the ones left by people over the years." She placed the pile in front of Snape, leaving him when she went to see to the needs of a wizard who had just entered the pub.
As he sipped his brandy and perused the old news, something extraordinary caught Snape's eye:
oooo 20 July 1984 oooo
The Daily Prophet
Two Found Dead at Prominent Family's Mansion
An unidentified witch was found dead on the grounds of Nott Manor early this morning. Her remains were discovered only hours after the body of Damien Nott, brother of Death Eater Francis Nott, was found decapitated in his bedroom. Maria Santiago, resident at that address, is sought for questioning. Anyone with information about the present location of Maria Santiago is instructed to contact The Ministry of Magic.
Severus slammed his glass on the counter. "I'll be buggered!" he exclaimed.
"Yes you will," purred Annie, as she came up behind him and trailed her hand along his back.
"Not like that, you twit," he snapped.
Jones was in for it now.
A/N:
I want everyone to know that I have the most marvellous Beta in Fan Fiction. S, where would I be without you?
Thanks to LariLee for helping to remove the "seed" from the grapefruit.