Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything relating to it. I do however own any characters you have not heard of before in the books.
A/N:
Hello, it is I the one and only The Fruity One!
(big round of applause and chanting of "all hail the fruity one")
Yes, thankyou, thankyou.
I am back and very fruity.
Well, things are getting a little tense for Snape. What will happen? What will happen indeed? Read and find out for yourself!
Things are about to get a little mysterious…
4. Absence
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It became an exciting event for the remaining days of the summer holidays. Every teacher, when Jane and Snape were not around, would discuss who had the upper end of the mealtime snide contest. Every single mealtime Snape or Jane could were not accessible to talk to, as they were too busy insulting and counter-insulting each other in a backhanded manner.
Other than at this time, Snape avoided Jane and the others completely, locking himself in his quarters. Even on the way to the Great Hall, Snape would avoid everyone by coming later than his usual punctual self would.
Everyone sensed this new found tension and decided to do what he or she always did when Snape was in a bad mood. They minded their own business.
It was the morning before the day school began that Jane didn't appear for breakfast.
This seemed to worry all the staff as they pondered to themselves about her where-abouts. The silence seemed peaceful, yet unnatural.
It was finally broken when Dumbledore brushed crumbs from his beard and made a remark on how quiet it was for a change without the bickering.
Snape grunted a 'good riddance' lying through his teeth. Jane's absence bitterly disappointed him. He had spent an hour the previous night practicing comebacks.
Hagrid expressed aloud everyone's concern for Jane's health. No one offered to check on her in her quarters as they were all too embarrassed to confront her. Snape was far from volunteering. It was decided that if she were missing for tomorrow's breakfast, they would approach her.
Everyone moved sluggishly, preparing for their classes, all hoping that Jane would appear with her usual cheery hello. Unfortunately, this never occurred.
Even the ghosts looked miserable. Peeves the Poltergeist, who had taken a liking to Miss Jane, moped grievously like he was suffering from separation anxiety.
Snape gained the courage to walk the school grounds, enjoying his moments of freedom. Not one of the other professors met his eyes, and quickly found other or more important things to do.
No one wanted to confront Snape when he was in a bad mood.
He ambled about as he waited for potions to brew, half hoping he may find the sudden glint of pale hair. He felt disappointed that his entertainment had gone into hiding.
That evening his sleep became fitful.
In-between the solid sleep time of fifteen minutes, he would wake- his head spinning, and his thoughts array.
Was it guilt?
Snape sighed with exhaustion.
He threw himself deeper into his pillow and tried to block out any thoughts that happened to come meandering by. Eventually Snape's eyes became heavy, and his mind began to ignore the abusive thoughts. He dreamed…
He was alone in Hogwart's library, back when he attended the school.
The usual bustling noise and the scratching of quills on parchment had disappeared. Enjoying the solitude, he flicked through the pages of an ancient book, as he tried the find the right warding charm he had been told to research for Defence Against the Dark Arts.
He looked out the window. It was dark- after seven.
He returned to his book and searched in vain for the spell. He resigned by putting his head in his hands.
"Why don't you try there?" asked a voice Snape didn't recognise.
Sure enough where a finger was pointing, the spell and its information was written plain enough in front of his face. He turned to follow meet his helper. He realised that the figure was under a deep white hood…
"Angel?" he asked.
Angel drew back in confusion. Even from under her hood, Snape could tell that she was giving him a strange look. He tried again, "is your name Angel?"
He could not see how this would help, as the woman obviously did not understand what he was talking about. He reattempted by rephrasing the question, "were you the one who helped me before?"
The cloak figure paused then slowly nodded.
Snape's younger version opened his mouth to thank her, but as soon as she had nodded she had disappeared.
The room began to spin and books began to swoop over his head . He felt himself grow and become his present self.
Towering over him were the enormous bodies of his fellow teachers. They were sneering and laughing. Snape stood up to defend himself but found that he was as big as one of their fingers.
They lunged for him.
Paralysed by fear, all Snape could do was cower and cringe. He whispered for Angel to come back and help him.
Why would she? She didn't even see it as her name.
But it is the only name you have for her, a voice said in his head.
He couldn't control himself, as the professors were inches away from seizing him. He screamed for Angel like a maniac.
He shot out of bed faster than a Firebolt broomstick.
Lying with his back against the cold walls of his room, he steadied his breathing.
As he looked at the ceiling, he pondered over the vision-like dream he had just witnessed. Why had he been so cowardly? He looked at his hands as they trembled violently. He slowly tried to stand up, propping himself against the wall.
Why hadn't Angel come? Was that even her name? He slowly edged for the door to his room of refuge.
He made for his chair but suddenly stopped. Yet again, Jane was sitting in his chair with a curious look on her face.
"Again?" she needlessly asked.
He nodded, bewildered that she had appeared in his chair again. He conjured up another chair for him to sit on. There was no point in him waiting for her to move.
He stared at the flames of his fireplace, trying to ignore the goddess of madness. His hands tightly clenched the arms of the chair. He peered from the corner of his eye, to see that Jane was staring at him.
"Worse?" she finally asked.
He shrugged pathetically, trying not to look at her judging face.
"She doesn't know her own name," he rasped, more to himself than Jane, "her name isn't Angel."
No matter how insignificant or poorer reason for him to be disturbed, Jane seemed to comprehend what he had meant.
'Angel didn't come. She wasn't Angel.'
Another long silence strung between them as Jane looked contemplative.
"What really is a name Severus?" she asked with thought, "It is merely a form of identification. Our parents name us by who they see us to be, when we are babies. If the case were that everyone could call a person by what they see him or her to be, then we would have more than one name, given by each person. Our hearts reveal who others really are, so if you saw her and instantly thought her name was Angel, because that is what you think she is, then her name really is Angel. It is your true name for her."
Severus stared at her, amazed at the wisdom had passed through her mouth.
After hearing this he felt a little better. What confused him was why he even cared about this stupid Angel girl, and whether she knew who he was. Jane looked into the fire, its orange glow playing on her fair skinned face.
A distant rattle came from outside Snape's quarters, in the depths of the dungeons.
Startled, Jane turned her head to look at the portrait exit, revealing the other side of her face. Down her soft cheek was a long cut, covered with dry blood. This made Snape recoil. Noticing his mortified stare, Jane quickly turned, showing Snape only the unharmed profile of her face.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said bluntly, continuing to become interested in a brick on the wall.
Forgetting about his confusion and fears, Snape rose from his chair and strode up to Jane. He looked at her face, which showed nervousness and evasiveness.
He seized her chin and turned her face so he could see the cut once more. She avoided his gaze with guilt. Just as he had seen before, the cut went from her cheekbone to her neck. Then he saw the blood stains on the shoulder of her robes. They led to the side of her upper arm.
"Professor, what is this?" he asked with alarm.
"I said nothing," reassured Jane.
"Let me see your arm," he demanded
"No," she said simply.
"Professor, I said take off your outer robe and show me you arm," he ordered.
She sighed and reluctantly removed her coat-like robe, leaving her in her short sleeved, plain silvery dress.
Her delicate arm was perfect, until it came to a poorly bandaged wound, the gauze falling off; the bandages crooked and the surrounding area smeared with dry blood.
Snape looked at her questioningly. She wouldn't meet his gaze.
So this was why she didn't come out today.
He removed the bandages without her permission, noticing her wince painfully. The bandages revealed a nasty gash, partly healed, yet only fresh.
"You call this nothing!" he exclaimed.
He tutted at the poor treatment of this injury. This was definitely not the work of Madam Pomfrey. He immediately asked why she did not go to see her.
With begging eyes she said she didn't want attract attention to herself. A poor excuse. She said that she did herself, and could handle it.
"That I highly doubt," he commented.
He turned, and ordered her to remain, as he left through the portrait to get some potions.
He returned in an instant. He thrust a vial of pain-killing potion at her and asked her to drink it. Little did she know there was a blend of sleep draught contained in the substance, and she went out like a light, her lush eyelashes curtaining her eyes.
Thinking of what to do without Madam Pomfrey, he paced in a dark corner. He decided to treat now, ask questions later.
He carefully removed the bloodied bandages and replaced them anew, applying healing potions. He avoided touching the wound with his cruelly rough hands. She still flinched in her sleep. As he tightly bound her arm he watched in wonder as her muscles flexed under her skin. Leaving her to an undisturbed slumber, he retrieved one of his robes from his wardrobe and draped it over her
shoulders, noticing how it darkly contrasted with her paleness. He tried retiring to sleep in the comfort of his bed.
He couldn't sleep. Not now knowing what nightmares could await him. He sat up staring at the age-old stained cobblestone walls. Miserably he sat awake for the rest of the night.
A/N:
Interesting isn't it? Indeed who is this Angel? How did Jane get injured? What will Snape do? Why do we care?
Things are about to get interesting (not to mention interesting.)
Review!
ALL HAIL THE FRUITY ONE!