Author's Note: Sorry, I know it's been a month, but I'm still writing, I promise. Thank you for continuing to read!


Ghosts & Skeletons

On the Easter holiday, Petunia took her son to lunch and returned to the quiet castle in a very foul mood. She had expected some awkwardness. What she had not prepared for was the dramatic change in her son after two semesters at university. Everything from his looks to his demeanor was the opposite of everything she had ever known him to be, almost as if out of pure spite. His attitude was sullen, leading her to wonder if he had changed his appearance just to upset her. A little rebelliousness was to be expected, she had tried to tell herself.

She closed the door to her suite, flopped angrily onto one of her fireside couches, and kicked off her shoes. She sat staring into the soft fire in her fireplace, replaying the meeting in her head, trying to account for every odd moment and figure out what it was that had so unsettled her.

She had met Dudley outside of an old family favorite restaurant. When she saw her son she barely recognized him; he had lost a few pounds, and looked, to her mind, rather sickly. His skin seemed a little yellow and there were dark shadows under his eyes. But most of all, his entire appearance had rendered him unrecognizable from the boy who had left her home that fall.

Where once there had been a stout, handsome, bright reminder of Vernon's best qualities, there was now a sullen-looking wastrel with piercings, eye shadow and - heaven help her - electric blue hair. It was shaved on one side, but he had let it grow long on the other. For some ludicrous reason, he let it hang into his eyes so that she marveled he could see at all.

And instead of standing tall and confidently like the bear of a young man he had been, high school wrestler and all, he stood hunched over, as if he were trying to make himself smaller. The image before her called to mind every single stereotype of a homeless, runaway drug addict who had turned to a life of crime that she could think of, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming at the sight of him. She was still wincing at the taste of her own blood.

She scowled as she remembered how everything had gone downhill from there. At first she had done very well at managing her reaction, forcing smiles and humor. "Dudders! Well you certainly have been…experimenting with your looks, haven't you? Let me look at you." Later she hid her trembling hands in her lap while they ate, and tried very hard not to stare at the chain piercing in his ear, fighting a very strong impulse to rip it out.

"Dudders" had not taken to his old pet name very well, and made it quite clear that he no longer wished her to call him that. All right, sure…that too was normal emerging adult behavior. Wasn't it? Of course, he was a young man now. He would not want her to call him by silly little pet names or fawn over him like a child. It was very hard for her not to do, though. Despite his drastic change, she still saw her child before him, vulnerable, innocent, clueless, and in need of protection.

It wasn't until they had gotten around to the topic of Petunia studying at Hogwarts that things began to take a decidedly sour turn. Now that she thought about it, she mused, rubbing her liberated feet, what she had mistaken for his lack of tact and the gruffness of a young man trying to assert himself now struck her as intentionally passive aggressive. He had not seemed that surprised by her own change; perhaps growing up with his wizard cousin made the world of magic slightly less strange to him. But he did go out of his way to remind her at every turn that she had now become one of the very people she used to judge and hate, especially whenever she commented on his changes.

It went beyond a mere retort to get her off his back, though. She sensed a real resentment behind his words, a kind of held back anger, and it had so confounded her she had not been able to react at the time. It was only now that she was alone with her thoughts, surrounded by the safety of the green trappings of house Slyterhin, that a growing dreadful realization creeped into her mind.

Her son didn't like her.

The possibility that Dudley would ever be anything but his mother's son had never crossed her mind. She would not have been able to conceive of such a Dudley. This Dudley seemed to want very little to do with her. At the same time, it seemed important to him to make as many snide, hurtful comments as he could, almost as if he had been waiting to say these things.

A number of those comments had to do with Harry. Dudley had not even stopped short of calling her abusive to her face, and gave every impression that he was disgusted and embarrassed by the way she had treated the closest thing he'd ever had to a sibling. This, of course, made her feel bitterly ashamed, which then angered her, but she did not make the connection right away. Instead, she reacted by lashing out at the first opportunity. They were standing outside after lunch, and her son…her innocent, clean, bright, promising little boy, had taken out a cigarette and put the nasty thing in his mouth, with all the familiarity of a practiced smoker.

At that she could not stop her hand from flying out and slapping the cigarette right out of his mouth. He had stared at her in open-mouthed shock, then, and when he recovered his ability to speak, flung at her a whole slew of insulting comments and observations about how she had oppressed everyone in her home, how she was judgemental and unkind, prudish and rigid. He accused her of not preparing him for the world out there, and told her he had learned what a spoiled, pampered brat he was when he began trying to make friends.

Petunia flushed hot with the memory, fury and pain surging through her as if it had all just happened seconds ago instead of hours. She felt the rising urge to break something, to scream at someone, to make somebody somewhere cower and pay for the great indignity she had suffered.

Somehow, after this blow up, they managed to calm down and parted with the most reluctant hug she'd ever felt in her life. It was as if her own son, who now looked like something that had crawled out of an alleyway from a sketchy foreign nightclub, thought she was the one who was disgusting, something he did not want to get too close to. Maybe even someone, she thought, he did not want people to think he cared about or was related to.

This hit her in her gut like a punch from the Whomping Willow: Her son didn't just dislike her; he was ashamed of her!

As she'd watched him walk away, his insolent, lazy hunched walk and flicking his blue hair unnecessarily, she'd almost wished she had a cup of hot tea in her hand so she could throw it at him. She had then returned to Privet Drive, barely aware of how she'd gotten there - she had taken Vernon's car, thinking it would feel novel to drive again. But it didn't. It was just, as they said, like riding a bike. Mechanically, she'd gone inside and started cleaning the already-spotless kitchen counter, and tackled with vengeful ferocity the tiny layer of dust that had settled on all the surfaces in her absence..

Then she had gone upstairs to stare at the bed she had shared with her late husband, saw the two pillows tucked under the bedclothes, the neatness and familiarity of this safe, quiet, and wholly uninteresting home of hers, and burst into tears of deep, deep anger. Exhausted from crying, she had fallen asleep on the bed, and when she awakened, she no longer felt the need to hide in this familiar place; she was more than ready to go back to Hogwarts. But she had not been able to shake the horrible feelings and thoughts that her reunion with Dudley had seeded.

She felt sick.

The enchanted clock on her night table chimed, and she wondered vaguely what time it was. It must be around five o'clock by now. The dinner hour would start soon, but she doubted she would have an appetite for the rest of the evening. Then she remembered that all the students were on holiday, and she was on her own anyway. Her thoughts wandered back to Severus, who had retreated into the background of her mind while the vivid image of her transformed son had taken all her attention. She thought about waking up with him only a few days ago, and the way he had held her and looked at her.

And then, unbidden, she saw that other look, the one of horror when they had been about to have sex. And she remembered the picture of Lily in his office, which she had been gazing at, trying to see it through his eyes, just before he'd come in and interrupted her.

She told herself it was all nothing; she was finding things to feel bad about, because of Dudley, and now everything just seemed more bleak than usual. But even as she fought it, a wave of rejection washed over her.

All of it added up, somehow…Dudley wanting nothing to do with her, Severus unable to keep from comparing her to her sister - what if he were only with her in some sick attempt to be close to Lily? - Harry growing up feeling unloved and unwanted, and never to return to their home again. The closet under the stairs. The secret of their scandalous, dysfunctional family, hiding behind a veneer of respectability. Skeletons in the closet.

At that moment, almost as if from a summons, there was a knock on her door. She knew it was Severus before even getting up to open it. He stood looming and dark on the threshold, smiling his shy, sideways smile. He was holding a rose in his hands.

"I don't believe it," she said as she stared at it, and let him in. He held it out to her as she closed the door, and she took it and gave it the customary sniff. "How very sentimental of you, Headmaster!" she teased half-heartedly. She really didn't know what to say to him just now. His presence interrupted her thoughts, and she felt confused, as if her two worlds were once again colliding and she could not tell which one was real.

"I was wondering if we might talk for a moment?" he said in a soft, questioning tone. Talk. So this was something serious. She shrugged.

"Sure."

"Walk with me?" he asked, and he opened her door and gestured to the hallway.

She followed Severus, who stepped quietly, thoughtfully, with his hands clasped behind his back, seeming only partially aware that she was there. She watched his back as they went up through the dungeon halls to the main floor and out onto one of the courtyards. She knew the look of someone rehearsing something they needed to say. Inexplicably, she felt defensive, and braced herself for something unpleasant. But he just gave you a rose, her inner voice argued. Still, why should that mean anything? What did Severus know about relationships? Perhaps it was just something to soften the blow of whatever he was about to say.

She knew she was being a little petulant; she knew that a part of her was still reacting from all the feelings her lunch with Dudley had brought up. But she couldn't help it. She could not bear any more hurt and rejection just now, so the walls went up and she looked at him blankly as they sat across from each other on one of the stone walls, looking out at the fields. She twirled the rose in her hands absently.

Severus was quiet for a moment before he spoke. When he finally did, he was still not looking at her, and his voice was softer than she'd ever heard it.

"I…owe you an explanation. I have something to tell you. It will be…difficult, I think, for you to hear. I wish I didn't have to," he said regretfully, turning to her for a moment, consternation plain on his face. He looked away again, off in the distance and nothing and then, oddly, down at his hands, which he was now slowly twisting and rubbing with obvious nervousness.

"They say one should not keep secrets from those you love, even the worst kinds of secrets. You know more about me than anyone I can think of in my whole life, except…"

"Lily." She finished for him, waiting expectantly, feeling nothing.

"Yes, but even more than she. Anyway, that doesn't matter so much. The point I'm trying to make is, I want to be honest with you."

"Then be honest," she interrupted. He nodded slowly, looking at her from the side instead of directly facing her. The fact that he was having trouble meeting her eyes began to rile her. It must mean he had something shameful to confess. Perhaps he had come to the same conclusion she had only moments ago; their relationship was a fraud, a remnant of his obsession with Lily and need to remain connected to her.

"The other night, when we were…you know…I know you noticed a change in me. I want you to know it had nothing to do with you. I…saw something," he finished mysteriously. This aggravated her.

"What do you mean you saw something?"

"I mean something entered my thoughts, against my will, while we were…together. Something not from my own mind, but someone else's."

That was intriguing. It was not quite what she'd been expecting, and in spite of herself, she began to listen with real interest.

Severus told her then about seeing a vision of Lily, but dead and horrific, and how it had terrified him and shaken him for the rest of the night. His eyes flickered to her face for the most miniscule moment when he said her sister's name, immediately flickering away again. Gauging her reaction. Shame.

When he had fallen silent, she thought for a moment, trying to detect what feelings were there just outside of her protective wall of ice. Was she jealous? Hurt? Relieved? Sympathetic? Worried? Did she even care? And what had he meant, about someone else's mind? It was that detail at last that she grasped upon and held onto.

"What 'mind' do you think was with us that night? Where did this vision come from?"

"I am not completely certain, but I have a theory," he said, and she noticed that he looked a little relieved for some reason…perhaps now that they were talking about this other third party he seemed to want to blame for whatever it was that had happened. "It is just a theory, but it has to do with you, and the dreams you've been having, your ability to suddenly speak Parseltongue, perhaps even your sudden ability to do magic."

"What do you mean?" she asked, alarm creeping into her voice. Something about this seemed ominous, threatening. It was not that it was dangerous or creepy, but it was the questioning of her abilities, as if once again, she were about to be told she had no right to them at all.

"Look, I've been having Miss Granger assist me in research on egregores," he began, now turning to her and explaining in earnest. "I cannot explain or understand why yet, but there is some connection between you and Slytherin. I don't know what it is. I don't know if you have some connection in your family history somewhere far back, giving Potter's connection to Voldemort, or what. Maybe you have some kind of draw for it, the spirit of house Slytherin. You're sensitive to it, or perhaps it senses that you…you're…you belong to it," he finished, sounding very confused himself.

Petunia raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry?"

"I know, I know. It sounds very strange. And it's not necessarily…bad - " he began, but she interrupted at this, beginning to feel heated.

"Not bad? You're saying I've got some weird spirit attached to me, controlling my magic and, what, trying to constantly remind me of my dead sister for some reason?" She could feel her cheeks growing hot. None of it made any sense, even her anger, but that just made her angrier.

"No, I think that it has tried to control you. But it failed. And so now that you and I have linked our minds through legilimency, it has detected me, and now seeks to reach you through my mind, through controlling me, somehow," he finished weakly. He was looking at her with those dark eyebrows knit together, his eyes burning with some kind of fear, a plea of some kind. What did he want from her?

Permission. The word came to her quietly and suddenly from nowhere. Permission for what, exactly? To end it. Ah. Now it all made sense. She looked at him without answering, and when he said nothing more, asked, "And?"

"Well, that's it, I suppose. Anyway, that's my theory. As I said, Miss Granger has been helping me learn everything I can about egregores. It's not something I think wizards and witches have thought about much. We tend to ignore anything that doesn't fit neatly into some category of intelligent consciousness. But - it all makes sense. And, I think now that I have some idea, I can stop it," he said. He had brightened, and his voice took on a tone of urgency and determination.

So that was it. Severus had put his finger on a problem, odd and convoluted as it was, that he could now focus on solving. Of course. That would be exactly how he would distance himself from someone once he'd decided they'd gotten too close. She sighed, and he looked surprised.

"Severus," she began, now actually feeling very tired for the second time that day, "I'm not exactly sure why you're telling me all this, what you want me to do with it. It sounds like you are saying this is the reason behind your interest in me from the very beginning. Some - thing is trying to control me, and you've sensed it, and you were drawn to it. And now that you know what it is, you're - done with us."

"No, no! That's not what I - " Severus stood up abruptly, seeming not to notice he'd even done so, his voice panicked. This sudden movement startled her, and she could see very clearly that even if what she said was true, he himself was not even aware. And that made her feel the slightest bit of pity, her anger seeping away, turning instead to resignation.

"It's all right, Severus." She sighed again. "I understand."

"No, you don't. You - "

"Yes, I do," she said firmly, and took his hands in hers, looking at him with a sad smile. "Better, I think, than you do. This was exciting…for both of us. I have no doubt of that. It was very obvious, that thinking you were swept away believing you were in love with me. And it was wonderful, and fun. But that's all it was. You're not really ready for this. You're not even sure it's what you want."

Severus's face worked as if he were fighting involuntary twitches, and he looked as if he were about to explode into a deluge of protestation. But she stopped him with a soft, 'friendly' sort of kiss, lingering just for a moment with her lips on his.

"It's all right, Severus. It's all right."

"But…that's not…"

"I'm a big girl. I can handle a quick, stormy romance. Who knows. Perhaps I've used you as well, trying to get past Vernon's passing," she said, aware that this last was unnecessary cruelty, but unable to help herself. The dig definitely hurt; she could see it in his eyes immediately. The urgent energy for fighting her seemed to ebb away, and his face fell, his dark eyes bright, huge, and wounded. He said nothing.

"This was probably inevitable, us working so closely together, and having so much - history, in common." Lily. "But it would be wise for us to end it. Although I have to say it is odd to give someone a rose when you're breaking up with them," she said sadly. This, too, was calculated to hurt. She wanted to point out how stupid and immature he had been, how little he knew of love. It made her feel better, reducing him to an awkward, love-sick boy who had never really grown up. She was glad it hurt him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I am, too. It's better this way. Let's go on as friends and colleagues, shall we? At least, I like to think we're friends by now…"

"As you wish," he said simply, and she could see that he no longer intended to fight her.

Good. It was always better to end things on one's own terms.

"I do," she added, just to drive the point home, and kissed him once more tenderly on the cheek before letting his hands go, turning, and walking away, without a single backward glance.

Somehow, without looking, she knew he sat there still, like a black gargoyle on a rampant, surveying the world miserably as it fell apart around him. She made it all the way back to her room with stiff dignity, and it was only when she closed her door and locked it that she collapsed at last onto her bed, crying, screaming into her pillow, dissolving into bitter anguish. Somewhere in the room, she could hear the gnome scrabbling around, up to something new. She fell asleep, mildly comforted by the feeling that least he hadn't abandoned her, too.


Severus walked in a daze down to his office, where he found Hermione waiting for him, right on time for their meeting. She had something to show him, she'd said. When he drifted into the room, she looked up, her eyes blazing with excitement, and knew she had found some answer, some missing link he was waiting for. He wondered if he would be able to focus on whatever it was.

She gushed and rambled, opened notebooks and pointed at passages in tomes, and he nodded. He understood. He managed to respond with at least a minimum of decorum and presence, and when she'd finished her explanation, he was fairly certain he had hidden his distraction from her completely.

"This is quite intriguing, Miss Granger," he heard himself saying as she beamed. She was so alive…So very Gryffindor. But she would have been wonderful in Slytherin, too. Perhaps much more terrifying. He almost smiled. "Thank you," he murmured, taking her notes from her and pretending to pore over them.

"I'll just be at dinner, if you need me, and I have some time tomorrow -"

"Don't you have any plans with family for the holiday?"

He could feel her shrug without looking at her.

"I'll join them in the evening. I told them I had work to do here. My parents are really happy that I've been apprenticing with you," she said with true warmth.

It was a bit touching, considering how cold and empty he felt just now, how completely unloved and alone.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. That will be all."

She left, and as soon as she'd closed the door, he quickly gathered up her notes and the tome in his hand, stuffed them into a satchel, and headed directly for the edge of Hogwarts proper, where he immediately apparated to Spinner's End.

Once inside his dark, dusty parlor, Severus unloaded his things, gathered some materials and potions, tools and curios, creating a pile on one of his already-crowded side tables. Then he made himself some tea, listening to the steam whistle as the shadows of dusk settled outside the one window in his kitchen.

He returned to the parlor, drank his tea slowly and deliberately, then sprang into action. The ritual was a simple one, and he had everything he needed for it. It really was quite an extraordinary find on Granger's part…quite incredible, really. But he was too busy following the instructions to think about that much. He would tell her later. If he made it back, that is.

Because he had known from the moment Petunia walked away from him, her forgotten rose left on the courtyard wall where she had been sitting, that there was only one way to end this horrible Lily obsession once and for all. It was dangerous. But he had been there already once before. Surely that counted for something.

So he prepped the ritual late into the night, meticulous in every single detail, until the moment to imbibe the potion came. He drank it without hesitation, then lay down on the floor inside the chalked symbols that would contain the ritual, and hopefully, if he were lucky, bring him back from the edge of death. After a moment a searing pain shot through all his extremities, coming directly from his heart, fast as blood flow. Every single muscle seized up, and he spasmed violently on the floor so hard he thought his bones would break.

And then, his eyes rolled back into his head, his body relaxed and collapsed, and he breathed one last time before falling still and silent, turning a deathly grey.


It was wet and cold, a damp, late winter day. Everything was gray; the time was impossible to tell. A mist cleared around Petunia, and she saw her destination, the place that was drawing her. She headed for the group of people dressed in black. Some of them wore pointy hats; others were clearly muggles. Huh, that was odd. She wondered how they all knew each other. It didn't really matter.

Her thin heels sank below the grass into the wet ground so that she had to yank them out as she walked across the field to the place where he waited for her. The smell of earth filled her nostrils and lungs and she shivered, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her. She realized upon doing this that she was veiled. Of course she was.

Drawing closer to the huddle of bodies she saw faces she recognized, but did not understand why all of them were there. Some of them seemed from a past long forgotten, and some were recent. They crowded around solemnly, talking in low voices, sniffling, drifting in and out of each other as they made their rounds. In the center was a great rectangle pit, a grave - no, as soon as she thought that, she saw it was not a hole at all. It was a stone block, polished white marble, where she knew he lay.

She drew close to Severus's body, and a shock went through her. Tears sprang to her eyes and she felt she wanted to scream, but no sound came from her. He smelled of flowers and death. Suddenly she was nauseous. She ran to him, her feet moving more easily now that she wanted them to. She leaned over him to look into his peaceful face, willing his eyes to open. Right across from her, another pair of hands touched the stone. She looked across to see Lily, young and alive as she had been when Harry was a baby, looking at her urgently, saying something.

Her eyes drifted back to Severus's face, noticing the familiar-looking rose he held on his chest. The smell of flowers and death came from it. His eyes were now opened. He looked into nowhere, seeming lost, confused. She was flooded with relief, but her panic also grew. Why isn't he moving?! She shrieked at Lily with her mind. Where is he?! How do we get him back? DO something!

Lily was explaining something to her. It didn't make a lot of sense but she gathered that there was a time limit to saving Severus from the cold marble block in the graveyard, and that she would have to do something. Find…him. Bring…his…soul…back….

Petunia started, woke up and found her face covered by a cloth, which she ripped off in a panic. Squinting at it in the dark, she realized it was a handkerchief. It was not hers…she had never seen it before. It had flecks of silver that could be seen flashing in the eerie green dungeon light as she inspected it. The gnome. Must have heard her crying. She folded it and sat confused, trying to figure out what day it was, and how she had gotten there.

The images of the dream faded almost immediately, and she could not recall any of them, but the feeling remained…something terribly wrong. Severus. In trouble. He needed her. Why?!

She could not remember the dream, but her heart pounded. Slowly she remembered the conversation they'd had in the courtyard, and realized she must have cried herself to sleep. She had been exhausted, after all. Now it must be nearly midnight, maybe later. She had no idea where Severus was or what he would be doing, but she could not shake the sudden conviction that she must find him right now. She flung the bedclothes aside and hunted for her shoes in the dark…the flat ones, good for outdoors.

The sense of urgency only grew as she opened the door and hurried down the hall to Severus's office, which was empty. Of course it was. She listened. It was too quiet. It probably was the middle of the night. At home, then…that's where he'd be.

As she ran up the stone steps, miraculously managing not to trip in the darkness, she pondered the feeling that instinctively urged her. The sense of danger was probably over-exaggerated - must be left over from whatever the dream had been about. Perhaps what it really meant was that she realized she'd made a mistake - she had not meant to break up with Severus. And in fact, she noted, as she raced across the path away from Hogwarts castle, a tiny figure under the enormous full moon, she could not even remember why she had been so convinced that the relationship was over. What had she been thinking? The feelings from earlier in the day had faded with sleep, and she felt more herself again.

Severus might not be in actual danger, but there still could be a reason for urgency. Several hours had passed since she had last seen him. What if it were too late to take it all back? She shook her head, breathing hard to catch her breath before apparating. Her body was yanked through the ether and she arrived spinning dizzily on his street. It was darker than ever at night, though the light from the full moon accented the black pillows of smoke from the factories.

She walked quickly to his door, propelling herself with determination. She would just have to make him understand, that was all. It shouldn't be too late; not yet. If it was, though, she would deal with it…it had been her doing, after all. She ran up the steps and wrapped on his door with her small fist, listening for footsteps or a voice, but none came. She banged a few times again before she looked around, realized she might be disturbing his neighbors, and closed her eyes, thinking the password that would allow her to open his door. He had made her his secret-keeper.

How stupid! How foolish could she possibly be, not to realize how this very act of trust showed that his feelings for her were real?!

"Coward!" she muttered to herself, disgusted. She had acted childishly.

The doorknob clicked and she opened the door easily, the moonlight spilling onto the narrow, dark flight of stairs leading up into his home. She closed the door and listened for a moment, but all was silent. Maybe he was asleep?

What would that look like, her barging into his house like this and creeping up on him in his own bedroom? Maybe that'll work in my favor, she thought crazily, shrugging. She kicked off her shoes and started up the stairs, glancing into the kitchen on her right, and then the parlor on her left, before continuing up. But she stopped and froze, staring into the parlor at the dark figure that seemed to be lying unnaturally in the middle of the room.

"Severus?" she breathed, wondering if he had fallen asleep on the floor.

The figure did not stir. What if it were not him?

This thought could not stop her from rushing forward and falling to her knees, and she saw clearly that it was Severus, lying on his back in the middle of some chalked-out symbols, his eyelids not completely closed, his eyes rolled back, his mouth hanging open. Not moving. Not breathing.

She bent down to put her ear to his mouth and listened for a breath.

Nothing.

"SEVERUS!" She shrieked, shaking him violently. His head lolled from side to side, lifeless. A moment of confusion tore her in several directions, until she finally remembered that CPR was the only real tool she had at her disposal. She began performing it immediately, thunking down hard on his chest with her hands on top of each other, as they always demonstrated in those classes and instruction cards.

When he did not respond for almost a minute, she began wildly looking around for a phone to call for an ambulance, then remembered where she was. There would be no phone. There would be no help. He would die here - perhaps he was already dead - and there was no one to turn to for help in time.

"SEVERUS!" she screamed again, her voice filling the room as she had not been able to in her dream, and she shook him violently again, screaming at him, willing him to wake up, slapping his face, and pounding on his chest. She was on the edge of hysteria when his eyes suddenly flew open and flitted around.

She froze, wondering if it was too good to be true. It had been a long time already, and how long had he been there before she'd arrived? She questioned whether she had gone out of her mind. He was looking around like nothing had ever happened, his chest rising and falling with the normal, shallow breathing of falling asleep. He sat up stiffly, his arms hanging by his sides. Oddly, like he had forgotten how to use them. His head turned around slowly, to the left and then to the right, trying it out. Unsure.

Then he turned toward her and saw her, his eyes locking right into hers. Dark eyes, but something wrong, a kind of pulsing, hidden green light deep within them, staring through her, unblinking. He grinned.