Author's Note:

The Houses Competition (or THC) Round 7

Story Type: Drabble (up to 1,000 words)

House: Hufflepuff

Class: Astronomy

Prompt: 3. (Emotion) Courage

Word Count: 994

Disclaimers/triggers:TW for T level depictions of Tobias Snape's alcoholism and domestic abuse. Also some unsettling descriptions of a monster. AU- Snape Lives, Snamione, HG/SS relationship. You know the drill.

Beta Love: Thanks to Ti for looking over my story!


The Frostkin

"Brr!" Hermione shuddered as she looked out the kitchen window. "Looks like the first snow isn't far off! Let's go out and enjoy the day before the weather front moves in."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay indoors," her husband replied noncommittally.

Hermione turned, an eyebrow arching with suspicion. "Is something wrong?"

"No," he said quickly, and Hermione's suspicion deepened.

She reached across the table to gently place her hand over his. "I know what you think about therapists, Severus, but maybe it's time to talk to someone."

"Hmph!" Severus snorted, pulling his hand back. "I'm no coward!"

"It's not cowardly to get help," Hermione replied, trying to keep her tone even. "It's incredibly courageous. I was hesitant at first, too, if you'll recall. Harry helped me connect with Dr. Roberta."

"She's muggleborn too, isn't she?" Severus asked, trying to change the subject.

"Yes," she said, taking the hint. "It's fine if you don't feel ready, though. It's not healthy to bottle it up, though."

"I apologize for acting like a bastard," Severus said, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows. "It's just… I have trouble letting anyone in, much less a stranger. But, if it will help you put your mind at ease, I will tell you." He reached his hand out onto the table and left it hanging there like a silent invitation.

Hermione gently took his hand. She knew that only a few short years ago, he would have taken an admission of fault to the grave. "Thank you, Severus."

"Well, here goes nothing," Severus muttered. "When I was a lad, I lived in a slummy part of the city. It was sandwiched between the factories and the sludgy river. My father had an affinity for drink and not much else. I tried to stand up to him, to find the courage to protect my mother and myself from him, but I always ended up running away."

He paused and gave Hermione the hint of a smile when she squeezed his hand supportively.

"My mum would do everything she could before the first snow to cater to my father. I always thought it was strange, but I never said anything."

"Did it work?" Hermione asked.

"No." Severus shook his head. "One year, nothing my mother did could pacify him. She had to place herself in front of me more than once to refocus his wrath. In her own way, she was being as brave as she could be. I learned from her that to be small and quiet was never enough when someone really wanted your head. In many ways, it shaped me into the man I am today, though I can't say if it did any good."

"Nonsense!" Hermione growled. "Your mother sounds like a courageous woman who was trapped in a bad situation. There's no shame in that."

"Unfortunately," Severus replied, "there was, perhaps, far too much shame in it, for she never felt safe enough to get help to leave him. But I digress. That night, it was scheduled to start snowing, and my father was on the warpath. My mother was so terrified that she wrapped me up in her warmest coat, hat and scarf, and told me to hide behind the shed in the back garden. She said to stay there, and that if I saw anything strange to cover my eyes tightly."

"Strange?" Hermione asked.

"The Frostkin," Severus replied. "It is said that they herald in the first snow by sucking the warmth from the world. It was out there, huddled and freezing against that old ramshackle shed that I saw the impossibly long leg step over the back garden fence. I was so shocked, I forgot my mother's warning. From where I stood, it looked like a column of ice, and I had to crane my neck up to glimpse the body of the inhuman thing that stood staring at the house. There were flashes in the window. My mum was defending herself using magic. The creature bent its impossibly long body forward and ran its sharp icicle fingernails down the glass. I could see where the frost curled up in jagged patterns and I knew it was trying to get in. I wanted to do something, anything, but I just stood there, pressed against the splintering wood. The creature tried to get in, and at one point I saw a long, black tongue slither across the kitchen window. My mum had rubbed the inside of the windows with a saline mixture and dusted the sils with salt. But she was trapped inside with an even more terrifying monster."

"What happened then?"

"The creature had gone around to the other side of the house, but I could hear her screaming inside. I had to do something, so I ran to the door and banged hard against the door calling my father terrible things. He barreled out of the door, slamming it behind him. I scrambled behind the shed as he charged after me, screaming that I was dead. Then, everything went silent. When I dared to look, I saw the Frostkin bent over my father. Then, it stood back up and disappeared from view in a few giant, spindly steps. My father lay on the ground with a frozen look of surprise on his face. As my mum finally limped out the door with her wand drawn, flakes of snow were already beginning to fall. I was so terrified…" Severus trailed off and looked down at the table.

"A wise man once told me that courage is all about being scared and doing the right thing anyway," Hermione said.

"Perhaps you're right," Severus replied with a soft, faraway look. "But sometimes, all you can do is make the best bad choice that is available to you."

"Which is why," Hermione replied, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close, "you are the bravest man I've ever known."