Beneath the Snow

They didn't come. Not that second day, not the third…not even the forth. I gave into the hunger, but not mine…no, I gave into his. I keep forgetting that even though the soul was my dungeon bat of a potions professor, the body he inhabited was a newly hatched dragon. And babies apparently need to eat…a lot.

So, I approached the dead Horntail with hesitant feet and my wand raised. "It's not going to do anything, Potter. It's dead." Snape commented from where he was lounging between eggs inside the stone nest, soaking up the heating rune with contentment.

"Says you," I commented lowly, but continued my advance. I stood near her neck and poked it with my wand. When nothing happened I reached up with my hand and gave it a shove. Still nothing.

"Why did you release the dragon?" His voice startled me and I jumped away from the dead dragon. My cheeks flushed red, but I was thankful that he couldn't see my reaction as he was on the other side of the corpse.

"What?" I asked hurriedly, trying to sound calm.

"The dragon," Snape iterated. "Why did you release it?"

"Oh, uh…" I could feel my blush coming back so I moved closer to the Horntail to make certain he couldn't see. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," I confessed, embarrassed not to have an actual reason behind doing so. Thinking back on it, it was a monumentally stupid decision and could have ended up a lot worse than it did. I was really really lucky it didn't.

"So how does this work?" I asked quickly so he wouldn't comment on my idiocy. I had to raise my voice so he could hear me. I couldn't even see the nest around her massive head.

"How does what work?" Snape asked, thankfully not commenting on my confession. "Try using full sentences, they'll do wonders to your vocabulary and might actually trick people into thinking you have an IQ."

"Try using full sentences," I mocked him softly, twisting my face into that sneer that Slytherins seemed to have perfected since birth.

"What was that?" Snape asked harshly and I jerked back. Being a dragon must have given him better hearing too…but then again, Snape did always know when someone was talking behind his back.

"I said, would a cutting hex work?"

He snorted, and I could feel his vague annoyance battle with amusement – oh, he knew exactly what I had said.

"No," Snape answered after a moment, thankfully choosing to ignore my disrespectful comment. "Cutting hexes are too weak on dragon hide. Oh, and thirty points from Gryffindor." So much for ignoring it.

"What?" I barked, scrambling back until I could see the nest. He was perched at the end, watching me like he knew exactly how I would react. "You can't be serious? What for?"

"Five for being disrespectful and twenty-five for releasing a dragon in an arena full of people because it seemed like a good idea at the time." His tone raised in pitch as he imitated my speech pattern.

"You can't do that," I argued, suddenly angry once more. I don't think it was possible for us to go more than a few minutes without yelling at each other. "You're being ridiculous…and petty!" I tacked on for good measure.

"Shall I add another five? Back talking a professor?" He was baiting me, god damnit. I knew enough to recognize it, but I was apparently not mature enough to ignore it.

"How about we make it twenty?" I snarked at him, hands on my hips. "Or better yet, a hundred. Call it a fucking down payment." Snape hissed at me, smoke streaming from his nostrils but I was too angry to care. "Oh, what…you don't like my language? Get used to it. That's why they call it an advance. You take the points first and I work my way up into losing them. I'll even let you keep track."

"Oh, get over yourself, Potter," Snape snapped at me, jumping from the edge of the nest and fluttering to the ground. His landing was much more controlled than his first attempt.

"Get over yourself, Potter," I mocked again, this time not bothering to be subtle about it.

"What are you…two?" He grumbled, walking towards me on limbs much more coordinated than they were a few days ago.

"No, but apparently you are," I gestured to him. Another stream of smoke left his nose as he growled, but his advance didn't stop. I had a moment of brief panic that he was going to attack me when one of his wings came up and the dual thumbs dug into my pants. "The fuck you doing!?" I shrieked as he climbed up my leg and side like a squirrel in a tree. My arms flailed widely and I spun around to dislodge him.

"Stop moving!" Snape barked, maneuvering around to my back once he passed my waist. Only once he was settling onto my shoulder did I realize what his intention was all along.

"Seriously? I could have just lifted you." My cheeks were flushed in embarrassment at my reaction.

"This seemed more efficient," he replied, his tail wrapping around my bicep and only then did I realize my arms were still raised. I lowered them quickly, and crossed them instead. "Look, Potter," he sighed the words, and I could feel the deep sense of exhaustion that was consuming the anger I had felt just a moment ago. "We are both tired and hungry. We'll do no good snapping at each other."

He was right, damn him, but I wouldn't admit it out loud…or apologize. "I've been hungrier," I commented dryly, mostly to myself. His sharp look had my face flushing once more. Damn it, he really was right. My lack of food and sleep were damaging my self-control and my filter. "Okay, so if a cutting hex won't work, what will?" I asked quickly, trying to change the subject.

Snape let my comment slide, turning his attention back to the corpse. "Well, as dragon hide is nearly impervious to anything but the strongest of battle spells, I would usually have suggested trying the severing charm diffindo, but that would take an entire team of fully trained wizards to get through the hide. I could then suggest something darker, with more power behind it but I don't find that really necessary."

"Why not?" I asked carefully, feeling like was being led into a trap.

"Because the Horntail has already been ripped in half. Perhaps it would behoove you to just go to the damaged end and bypass the hide all together."

I blinked a few times in befuddlement, before I looked at the Horntail and realized what he was saying. Merlin, sometimes I could be dense. "Seriously," I mumbled, once more embarrassed. I hated how easily he could make me feel like a child. "And who uses the word behoove anyways."

"It's called expanding your vocabulary. Try reading a dictionary," Snape commented drolly and I rolled my eyes at him even as I moved towards the back end of the Horntail.

I nearly gagged at the sight. While the cold kept her body preserved, the gruesome sight of the wound was nauseating to behold. Half of her pelvic bone was missing, as were both legs, a wing, and a good portion of her side. Intestines and what looked like an internal organ had spilled out onto the ground and I could see nearly all the way into her chest cavity.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Oh, is that the liver?" Snape asked, sounding almost excited. "Keep that, we might be able to use it."

"Yep," I stumbled back a step, my mouth salivating. "I'm going to be sick."

And then I promptly was, all over the red colored snow. Snape was thrown from my shoulder as I fell to my knees and violently expelled everything that was in my stomach. As it had been four days since I had last eaten, all that was left was bile and it made me light headed with each heave.

Snape was hissing and spitting furiously as he tried to right himself, wiggling his tail and flailing his wings until he was able to flip himself over, but I could care less as another wave hit me and I gagged with the force of it. I didn't hear him approach, but I could feel him as his claws hooked into the fabric at my hip and he pulled himself back up. He settled onto my back as I was still leaning over – and started to berate me once more – but I somehow found his presence and weight comforting rather than irritating.

"Professor," I started, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and summoning water to wash out the foul taste. I followed it with a mouth freshening spell that left behind the aftertaste of mint.

"What is it, Potter?" His words weren't kind, but his tone was soft. It was something at least.

"I wanna go home," I whispered quietly like a confession as tears spilled down my cheeks. If I wasn't so distraught I would have been ashamed with how often I was crying in his presence.

"I know," he replied gently, one of his clawed wings dug into the fabric across my back. The talons sharp enough I could feel it through the thick material. The comforting gesture brought another wave of tears, but I fought them off. "We'll be home soon, but you need to eat. We need to eat."

He was right, damn him…of course he was. I sniffled again, wiping my nose and nodding my head. Snape retook his perch on my shoulder as I stood and faced the corpse once more. There was a comfort in his presence as I approached the dead dragon, his little body thrumming softly in something not quite a growl but not quite a hum.

My eyes shifted to him, his chest level with my gaze. Already I could see his ribs and I winced in sympathy. How long had he been suffering while I begged to wait for just a little longer? I remembered how much Norberta had eaten when she had first hatched – back when we thought her a Norbert – minutes after she hatched. Snape had hatched days ago and hadn't had a scrap of food.

The realization bolstered my resolve. I raised my chin, straightened my spine, and walked right up to the gaping wound. My wrist snapped back and I felt my wand shoot into the palm of my hand. I raised it, ready to cast…but every spell escaped me at the moment. I didn't know what the hell to cast. "Uh…"

"Try diffindo," Snape offered softly. I did so, remembering my third year lesson with Professor Lupin. I was careful to cast the charm precisely so Snape wouldn't have anything to say about my form or position. I don't think I did it quite right that first time, but he didn't say anything other than, "Again."

So I cast it again…and again. In the end, I had to reach up into the dragon to pull out a large chunk of meat that the spell had sliced off. My mouth flooded with saliva again and I could feel my stomach rolling as it pulled away from the main host with wet plopping noise. "Close your mouth," Snape spoke so closely I could feel his breath on the shell of my ear. "Breathe through your nose, steady breaths. Count them."

It helped, a little bit at least. I didn't vomit again, so there was that, but I still felt nauseous the rest of the day. Cooking the meat took a little finessing, but Snape taught me an easy spell that kept the chunk floating while also roasting it fully. He called it a household magic and I thought it was wonderful. I made a mental note to pick his brain for more when he was in an accommodating mood.

The meat wasn't terrible. Unseasoned and bland, a little tough, but not terrible. It looked like Snape was right about this as well, as once I was finished eating, I began to feel a lot better. And less irritable. It was frustrating when he was right all the time.

"Does this make you a cannibal?" I asked as Snape ripped off another small chunk with his sharp teeth.

His eyes glowed in dimming light as he glared at me. I could tell it was getting darker again, the sky taking on a deep grey cast to it. It was hard to tell the sun's position when it was either snowing or overcast all the time, but I was pretty certain it was nearing dusk. "That is an idiotic question."

"You're an idiotic question," I snarked back at him, my cheeks immediately flushing with how immature it had sounded.

"Are you quite finished?" He asked, perched over what remained of the piece of meat he had been tearing apart. I didn't know something so small could pack away that much food. Even from here I could see how his stomach distended.

"But seriously," I started as he went for another bite. How could he still be eating? He looked like he was ready to pop. "The definition of cannibal is an animal that eats its own kind."

Snape snorted at me, little puffs of fog or possibly smoke escaping his nose. "Do I look like an animal to you – don't answer that," he snapped at my eyebrow raising.

"The definition also covers humans, not just animals."

His head cocked to the side as he took another bite. "Oh, so you have read the dictionary," Snape commented nonchalantly.

"Ugh," I grunted, in frustration. "Just forget it," I got up from the ground, shuffling over to the eggs on my knees and recasting the heating rune when I felt that the warmth was beginning to fade. While I was at it, I also recast my own heating charm.

I've never had to cast it so many times before, the winters at Hogwarts seemingly mild compared to this place…wherever this was. I couldn't seem to go more than a few hours without having to replace it.

I knew Snape was aggravating me on purpose. Baiting me into an argument so I would what…drop the subject probably. I winced a the realization. This couldn't be easy for him, and cannibalism was a taboo, both morally and ethically. He probably didn't want to think about it, and my questioning more than likely didn't help.

I sighed in frustration but willed myself to be a little more understanding to his plight. Instead of reengaging him, and probably getting into another argument, I let the tip of my fingers touch each egg to make certain they were still warm.

I didn't like leaving them out here, exposed to the elements and possible wildlife…not that I had actually seen any other living thing since we came here, but still. I was afraid something would happen to them every time I crawled into the dug out cave. I was afraid I would wake up in the morning and they would be cold, or worse…gone.

There had been several arguments between Snape and I regarding the eggs. I had wanted to bring them into the cave now that it was big enough to sit and shuffle around, but Snape absolutely would not allow it. Most of his arguments were bogus, but there was one that was solid. They needed a heating rune much stronger than what I could handle, and in a confined space it could cause heat stroke at worst, or melt more of the ice and flood the cave at best.

I conceded this argument to him, but only this one. If Snape always got his way, the heating rune would have been removed altogether and the eggs would grow cold and die. That was one argument he would never win against me, and since I was the one with the wand and in a body that could actually cast, the decision was mine.

He would just have to get over it.

"We have to do something about that," Snape commented idly, his nose pointing to the lump of snow I was still ignoring. He was lying on his side, finally finished eating. His rotund stomach making him look like he swallowed a balloon. It would have been comical if my mind wasn't stuck on the what he was talking about.

"No, we don't," I bit out, grabbing Hermione's bookbag and digging through it. I wasn't really looking for anything, but it gave me something to do other than talk about what was under the snow.

"Yes, we do," he hissed, but did nothing else. Normally he would already be up and fanning his fins out in a display of hostility…but it appeared eating so much made him too tired to do much more than verbally express his displeasure.

My fingers shoved the volumes aside and felt around near the bottom. A quill pricked my index, but I ignored it as I kept rummaging. I was doing a valiant attempt to ignore him, but we both knew I wasn't doing anything more that avoiding the subject. "Potter," Snape sighed in frustration. "We can't just keep ignoring it."

"Yes, we can," I replied cordially, trying to keep my tone light.

"Stop that," he snarled, struggling to pull himself to his feet around his protruding stomach. He really was quite a sight. "Potter…Hari," he tried again, using the same nickname all my friends did. It made my eyes well up but I stopped rummaging in the bag and turned back to him. His gaze was soft and I just couldn't stand it.

"Severus," I replied angrily. His head jerked back in surprise. I don't think a student had ever called him by his given name…now that I think of it, I doubt many actually knew what it actually was. I only knew it because Dumbledore always called him by it. "Look," I began again, interrupting before he could start berating me for being disrespectful – or worse, talking about…about…

My eyes fell back upon the lump of snow and I couldn't look away. I just stared at it. I warm puff of air hit the back of my hand before a dry nose poked me. My eyes darted down to the tiny dragon, Snape's dual colored eyes staring back up at me. I didn't want to cry, not again, so I shook my head sharply and brushed the hair from my face angrily.

"We have to do something about it, Hari," Snape began again and his tiny claws dug into the flesh at my wrist, forcing my gaze to stay on him and not back to the lump. "Even if it's just to bury it."

I laughed at him, the sound coming out more bitter than I intended. "Bury it, Snape…it's your body! How can you not care?"

He hissed at me, a low rumble traveling out of his throat as he dug his claws back in and levered himself up until he was hanging onto my arm. I automatically pressed my elbow into my side and kept my forearm straight out and away…just like I did with Hedwig. The motion was so ingrained I didn't even realize what I had done until Snape perched himself there.

"You think I don't care?" He asked, not unkindly. "It is as you said: my body. But there is nothing to be done for it."

"You don't know that!" I argued fighting the urge to fling my arms up in frustration. I didn't want to dislodge him, but I was just so use to gesticulating when I was upset that I wasn't fully successful and Snape's wings fluttered as he regained his balance due to my partial flailing. I aborted the movement before he could be fully dislodged, but by his glare I knew he didn't appreciate it at all. "Dumbledore might be able to –"

"Do nothing," Snape cut in. "Dumbledore can do nothing. This kind of magic isn't possible. What you have done is not possible!"

I lowered my head in shame, my hair falling around my face and I brushed an angry tear away. "I couldn't leave you there," I argued, but it felt hollow. There was a pressure on my upper arm and I looked to see Snape clutching the fabric there with his dual thumbs. "You weren't –" my whisper cut off, uncertain. "You didn't see…I couldn't just leave you there."

"I know," he replied, and perhaps he did. There was that time he had lectured me extensively on my need to put myself in harms way to save others back in my second year…and my third. Snape always did love to lecture me, especially when he could do so loudly. "And now we must deal with the consequences of such."

Both of our gazes moved back to the lump beneath the snow. "Tomorrow?" I begged softly, too tired and strung out emotionally to deal with having to bury the body of my teacher.

"Tomorrow," Snape agreed as he slid down my arm and started to crawl towards the tunnel.

I sent up another set of red sparks, grabbed the bookbag, and followed him.