Warnings: Violence, torture, language.

Author's Notes: I never have anything to say in these, so from now on the only thing I'm posting in the update is the chapter.


Salene had forgotten how to count. She'd changed from marking her stomach every time light reappeared to marking her stomach every time the nightmare returned. After the three ones for the days, there was about fifteen. Not that she knew that, because she'd forgotten how to count and to her it was just lines of sharp pain when her fingers touched them. It meant nothing to her. The only reason she continued to mark was it had become a reflex.

She blinked, eyes scrunched up as she raised her head from the comforting blackness of her prison robes. The light was too bright...first star I see tonight. She giggled to herself, though it hurt her throat, raw from screaming. Her throat was raw from screaming, not her giggle...hmm...

"It's been five days," the Auror-guard-devil snapped. "Your escorts are here."

Salene frowned, uncomprehending. Escorts? What was an escort? And how many was five? She would have asked, if she remembered how to speak. But the guard was beckoning, and that meant to come. Using the wall as support, she rose to her feet and took several shaky steps to the two people standing outside. One was a strange looking man, with a floor-brushing beard and shiny robes. His eyes were hard and angry and she glared back at him. What right did he have to glare at a Snape? But, no, he wasn't glaring at her...oh...

The young man standing next to him was Sirius. She could name his immediately because she'd constantly seen his battered body, and blown away head. She let out a strangled cry and began to sob into her hands. Strong arms wrapped around her and she knew it was him. "Don't die again," she choked out, words of pleading filling her and spilling out in a helpless babble. He stroked her hair, murmuring something she couldn't make out. Distantly, she was aware of Dumbledore talking in cold, fierce tones to the two guard-devils that had been watching her.

To her shock, Sirius swung her into his arms and frowned. "You don't weigh anything," he told her softly. He leaned down and kissed her gently, on the forehead, each eyelid, and then her mouth. "I love you." She tightened her hold on him and nodded.


She was resting in a bed. Although the bed felt like heaven on her stiff and cramping muscles, she'd refused to relinquish her grab on Sirius' robes. So after he eased her into bed, he laid down with her, kissing her all over her face, but in a way that was more comforting than physical.

"Are you going to be okay?" he murmured, lips barely moving, the fearful concern evident on his face. Salene just tightened her grip, but she felt semi-confident she would be okay, as long as Sirius never sustained an injury, and neither did Sirius. And Sarina steered clear of her. And no one ever, ever asked her what she'd seen. Been affected by. Hm.

Over the next two weeks, Salene recovered gradually, to the point her thoughts were coherent and she didn't cast Ennervate on herself just to stay awake, fearing she'd collapse into the vivid nightmare once more. However, she still spoke very little, and had to be within five feet of Sirius at all times. When she had to floo back a day early because she couldn't be on the train, Sirius had to floo before her to greet her in Dumbledore's office and then, fifteen minutes and much silently exchanged terror later, floo back to the Potter's.

"Your cousin is here," the headmaster told her, eyes widened in faux innocence. "He believes you just got out of Azkaban today, as does the majority of the Wizarding world." Salene nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring fixedly at the corner of the circular office. Wait... With a sigh, she shook her head, her long ponytail whapping her in the face. Hair could really be a dangerous weapon. But at least she was now distracted and her thoughts were on a sane track.

"Can I see him?" she asked quietly.

"Just turn around," Professor Dumbledore said with a small smile and she did, her face breaking into a relieved smile. Tiny though it was, it was a smile. Severus was leaning against the doorway, looking slightly stunned as his eyes flicked up and down over her. She smiled tentatively into his concerned face and he took a step forward and pulled her into a crushing hug.

Her fingers tightened on his robes even when he pulled away. His eyes flitted down to where she was grasping him before he looked into her eyes and his frown deepened. "Did they even feed you?" She nodded, though stopped quickly because it made her dizzy.

Clearing her throat she answered, in a voice hoarse from constricted tears, "They did. But I didn't eat it. Didn't have the strength." He looked away, pointing his raging scowl at over her shoulder, and she nudged him with her elbow. "I'm okay," she promised. "Or, at least, I will be."

"That's not very reassuring." He paused and added, "Distraught." Her brow furrowed before she realized he had given the statue the password. The ten foot tall wizard, snakes embroidered on his robes and a hissing one coiled around his neck, took a step to the side so the entrance was unblocked.

"How funny is it that I was worried about you and yet I got in trouble?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. He simply glared at her, in a way that was more concerned than angry.

"Not very," he said, words clipped.

"Severus-" She broke off, unsure of what to say. He turned to her and drew her into another hug.

"Get some rest. School starts again tomorrow." Before she could reply, he had turned in a whirl of robes and glided up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. She stared after him, the fear swelling in her. What if someone did something to him? No, she was being silly. He was fine. She meant to turn but found herself running up the stairs, crying at her loss of free will. She wanted to go lie down, but her body had other plans.

Zabini was saying something in a low tone, eyes narrowed and his face inches from Severus'. Salene knew he was threatening Severus and before she fully thought about it, she pounced forward and trapped him under her, pounding his face with her fists, putting the little strength she had into every punch. There was a crack as her strongest punch hit his nose, and blood began to ooze from between his eyes. He let out a half whimper, half cry of pain and his hands rose to cover his face. She proceeded to break two of his fingers before Severus pulled her off him. Not wanting to hurt him, her bloody hands settled immediately and were scrubbed on her robes as she sobbed. What was wrong with her?

"Salene," Severus whispered, "go in the girls' dormitory and go to sleep. I'll put a memory charm on him and then take him to the infirmary. I'll come and talk to you later." She nodded and leaned against the closest bed, stomach twisting unpleasantly as the levitating form of Zabini passed her. She pressed a hand to her mouth, feeling her disgust and scared confusion welling up in her throat in the form of vomit. She remained in that position, frozen, thinking she had closed her eyes and that was the reason for the blackness. But she hadn't.

She tried to open her eyes, but nothing happened. Her fingers went to her eyes and she found they were open. Panic set in and she stumbled down the stairs, tripping and falling down the last five. She stuck her hands out, searching blindly, before flinging herself on the first couch she found. Unfortunately, she overestimated the length and slammed her head down on the armrest. The wooden armrest. A migraine immediately set in, as well as a painful throbbing in the back of her head. Salene curled into a ball, arms over her head as she dry sobbed.


"Salene?" Someone was shaking her. Calling her name. "Salene, wake up. Why are you bleeding?" The voice was panicked. Who was it? "Wake up!" Oh, yes. Severus.

Salene struggled into a sitting position, her migraine worse and her sight still gone. "Severus, I can't see," she whispered as she blinked several times. Nothing changed - still darkness. "I don't know why...I'm scared." There was silence for a long time, and the hands moved from her arms. She reached out, arms waving wildly until she hit a face. She grabbed onto what she assumed was his neck and he sighed.

"I don't want to take you to the hospital wing just yet. It's too close to Zabini's accident. If you're not better by the Welcoming Feast tonight, I'll take you, okay?" She nodded tightly and he moved form her grasp.

"Severus," she whispered. "You can't leave me."

"Do you trust me?" His voice was empty, almost cold, and it scared her. He'd never completely hidden his emotions from her. And it wasn't like she could read his eyes.

"Yes," she answered immediately, nodding for emphasis.

"I'm going to take you upstairs and you're going to lay down and sleep. I think I know what happened and I'm going to research it in the library. If anyone wakes you up, keep pretending to be asleep. If it's me, I'll say so. If it's Professor Dumbledore-" he hesitated and she wondered what was going on. He was ordering her about, being secretive...something had happened on the way to the infirmary, or even while he was there. Or maybe he was just scared about her being blind and couldn't handle it any other way.

"If it's Dumbledore," she prompted, even as she was following him upstairs.

"Give him this." Severus put a balled up sheet of parchment in her hand and then took her other hand and put it on something that felt like a bed. Severus confirmed it when she asked, but before she could ask anything else, he whispered, "Don't forget I love you, Salene." He kissed her gently on the forehead and then was gone - his hand on her arm and his strong scent of liquid bezoar stone, a common ingredient in the more complex potions. For some reason, his parting words unsettled her more than 'I hate you' would have.


Salene was getting rather sick of waiting. How could she possibly sleep? She kept rubbing her eyes, thinking - stupidly - that maybe something was in her eyes. This only irritated her eyes and so she stopped and petted her sheets, comforted by the now-familiar feel of silk sheets. At Durmstrang they were scratchy cotton because the headmaster believed it built up character. She couldn't hold back a snort at the thought. How did sleeping on itchy sheets make you tougher and successful?

She sighed and twisted to one side, reaching out, fingers searching her nightstand until she found the balled up piece of parchment and picked it back up. Her hands had been sweating horribly and she didn't want to smear the ink or something, making it unreadable. But she was so crazy from boredom - anticipation - she felt like her mind was covered in bug bites, stinging and itching. She had to do something.

She forced her mind back on task, carefully smoothed out the sheet, running her fingers over it to see if the ink had created any bubbles. No. Severus' hand writing was smooth and there was no way she could even get an idea of what he'd written. She felt tempted to shred it, just to show...what? She knew how to rip paper?

With a growl of frustration, at herself, at Severus, at Zabini, she crumpled the parchment back into a ball and threw it across the room. Why would Dumbledore come checking up on her anyway? And what right did Severus have to boss her around? Better yet, why was she obediently listening to him, like some abused animal, eager to please. Just because she had randomly gone blind didn't mean she had to curl up in bed, weak and pathetic, crying until her cousin in greasy black rescued her. She snorted and threw the covers off, stepping out of bed and striding forward several steps, confidence restored. She took another step forward and slipped on the edge of a stair. A spell, useless to her wandless self, issued from her lips, even as she was rolling down and down, for what seemed like forever but ended in a second. Her whole body ached and now she really was curled up, body protesting against the slightest movement. And did she smell, slight though it was, a scent of blood. Her hands searched her head and then she brought them up to her nose, sniffing. No blood. She did this with different body parts until she reached her left thigh. There, she felt the blood, oozing and warm and yet chilling. She wiped her hands and closed her eyes. Not that it made a difference.

The silence, barring the thudding of her heart, was unbearable. The castle was usually so full of people. 'And the one time it isn't, I fall down the stairs,' Salene thought wryly, a painful smirk twisting her lips. 'And go blind.' Though, perhaps it was better no one was around to witness the latter part. Except...she wanted Sirius very badly. And if her eyesight didn't return, she didn't know what she'd do. If she could never see Severus again, or Sirius, or...or...well, there was nothing else she wanted to see, really. Her own reflection didn't interest her, and she'd never had the proper time to enjoy nature. 'Stop and smell the pollen' was what the Muggles said, or something equally absurd. You didn't have to stop to smell pollen, it was floating in the air.

Salene sneered at her own track of thoughts. She was immobilized on the floor and thinking of Muggles. Black really was rubbing off on her. Wait...was someone calling her name? Yes, and either she was going deaf too or they were quite far away. Deciding - hoping - it was the latter choice, she strained her ears, trying to decide if it was Severus and whether or not she should shout back. No...it was...Professor Dumbledore. Damn...Severus had to be planning something. Dumbledore would never look for her on his own will. Would he? Unless...

Her mind, which had rusted over in Azkaban, suddenly felt freshly oiled as she started thinking. Really thinking. What if Dumbledore was only being kind in hopes she'd become a spy like Severus had? Would she do it? Could she? The answer...no. Being that close to Dark Arts and defenseless Muggles all the time would seduce her to the 'Dark side,' as it was affectionately called. Even though she hated the Dark Lord with a passion, as well as all he stood for, she also despised all Muggles, and Mudbloods, for what had happened to Serena. Even though the death was on her hands. Salene wouldn't have had to make the decision if it hadn't been for those Merlin-forsaken Muggle boys.

She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, attempting to look unconscious, as she heard the password being half-shouted. Two pairs of footsteps echoed in the stone room and her breathing pretty much stopped as there was a sharp inhale and one pair of footsteps hurried up drastically. She felt someone kneel by her, their hands finding her neck. "There's a pulse," a familiar but unrecognized voice said. "And I feel her breath on my hand." That was rather weird.

"She looks conscious." That was Professor Dumbledore, of course. She ground her teeth together, and would have rolled her eyes if she wasn't pretending to be unconscious. Of course, he would suspect her faking anyway. "Try Incendio and see if she wakes up." Salene tensed, all the while wondering if he was right in the head, but didn't open her eyes. Apparently, she didn't need to because her robes, or something, had moved when she'd steeled herself and Dumbledore had noticed. "Salene, we're not going to hurt you," he said softly.

"I didn't think you would," she spat, attempting to sit up. Her muscles screamed out and refused to support her weight, so she ended up collapsing into the arm of the unknown person. "Who are you?" she demanded, trying to wriggle out of the iron grip. She hated this, being wandless and blind.

"Peter Pettigrew, Hufflepuff Head Prefect."