P e r s p e c t i v e
(Victim sees things from the Captor's perspective)

-

He lead me past the picture of Mrs. Black, who shouted obscenities at me, and then up a flight of stairs, then down a long hallway with many closed doors. I assumed that this was where Harry and the others were staying. When we reached the end of the hallway, Moody reached up and tugged on a string; a trapdoor fell from the ceiling.

"Up you get, then," he growled.

I shivered. It was dark up there. "Are-are you going to—? " I didn't quite know what I was asking. What I meant to say was, "Don't leave me alone up there!"

Moody said nothing, but he gestured to the ladder. I blinked and then realized that he could not climb it because of his leg. I nodded meekly and ascended the ladder. Halfway up, I turned to him. "Did—did you clean it out? I-I'm not going to find anything creepy, or-or dangerous up there, am I?"

"Probably not," he growled. "We cleaned it. But there still might be something we missed…"

Chills shot straight down my spine. "I-I'm not a w-witch, I c-can't d-do anything ag-against any—anything…" I breathed quickly, shaking.

"MOODY!" a voice I recognized instantly thundered down the hallway, quick steps following. "Severus," I breathed, so grateful I used his first name.

"Get up there, girl, before I Levitate you," Moody said irritably. "I'll deal with Snape. You've got nothing to be afraid of—"

"I'm not afraid of him!" I said, without stuttering, thank the deities. I started to climb down.

"Get up there!" Moody snapped. I heard Dumbledore call Severus' name from below. Mrs. Black began to shriek again.

"There you are," Severus said to me, walking down the corridor. "I was wondering where they were going to put you."

"Snape," Moody snarled. "I suggest you go and tell Albus why you were hiding such an asset, while I take care of our guest, here. Get up the ladder, Muggle girl," he added to me.

"Her name happens to be Amanda," Severus growled, "and she is unarmed. There are no lights up there, and the attic has only been cleaned out once. The other rooms have been cleared at least three times."

I stared, and made sure to keep my mouth closed. He was defending me? And he never called me by my first name!

"Surely it's better than a wardrobe," Moody sneered. "And at least she can be of use, now."

"She is no use to us dead," Severus snapped, "and she also cannot tell us everything."

"Dead?" snapped Moody, "You think we're going to kill her?"

"B-boggarts," I whispered "Droxies. What else could be up there?"

"What?" demanded Moody.

"Doxies, you fool," snapped Snape, "she's only read books, and hasn't heard everything pronounced out loud. And she's right. She'll be staying with me, and not in that ridiculous attic."

Yes! I thought, and hopped off the final rung of the ladder.

"Dumbledore ordered it," Snapped Moody.

"Then we shall speak to Dumbledore," said Snape, "In the meanwhile—"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, coming up behind Snape, looking angry, "we shall."

I squeaked. He really did scare me.

Severus glanced at me. Don't mess this up, his eyes said. Or something to that effect. I never was really good at reading expressions. "Headmaster," Severus said, nodding slightly. Dumbledore, to my fright, looked furious.

"I think we ought to discuss this, Severus," he said firmly. The air seemed to waver around him, and I found it suddenly hard to breathe. "In private." He turned to Moody. "Make sure the attic is safe," he added.

I shivered, and then jumped, because a hand had, very lightly, almost timidly, landed on my shoulder. I blinked, but Severus had gone, followed Dumbledore back down the hall. He did not look back.

Take his side, I thought to myself, almost giddily, and I'll be there forever.

I really had made an ally, that day.

"Come," Moody growled. He gestured with his wand and levitated himself up into the attic, and then looked down at me and raised his single eyebrow. I swallowed, and then followed him up.

-

I don't know what happened between Dumbledore and Severus. I do know, however, that no one asked me my preference; no one took me aside and asked me, privately, what I wanted to do.

I wanted to stay with Severus, because I knew him and I trusted him and he was, I thought, my friend. He didn't make me give information that I was unwilling to give. As I stood I in the attic, and as Moody swept through the great square-shaped room (Too big, I thought, too many corners for things to hide in; I wanted something small… like a wardrobe) he pumped me for information. He didn't ask me about how Snape had treated me. He asked me what information I'd given, what I'd not given, and what was to come.

I'd told him what I'd told Severus to tell Voldemort, but I didn't tell him anything else. He got frustrated, and shouted at me, demanding to know if I cared if they won the war or not.

I was reduced to a quivering mass of terrified jelly in no time. But I didn't tell him anything.

Moody apologized. He sighed, came over, and touched my shoulder. "We want to win this war," he told me softly, "We want to stop You-Know-Who."

"I-I-I n-know," I stuttered in response, shying away from his touch. "B-b-but I c-can't change any-anything."

He scowled at me, snarled something under his breath, and left.

He took the light with him.

I gave a little moan. I'm afraid of the dark.

It was about an hour later that I learned something very important about Severus. An hour later, when the trap door was wrenched open and he, Dumbledore, a reluctant Moody and someone I didn't recognize (Shacklebolt?) were standing at the bottom.

Severus is very selfish. He is also very, very possessive over what is his. And he doesn't like to share.

I swear there was smoke coming out of his ears. He looked furious.

"Amanda," he said, firmly. "Come."

I was down that ladder before you could say "Thank you."

He took me by the shoulders and steered me down the hall. He said something to Dumbledore, but I was too grateful to hear. He opened a door with a wave of his wand, pushed me inside, followed, and then slammed it closed.

"Bloody dunderheads," he growled. He was breathing very hard, I noticed. Wheezing, almost.

"Are you alright?" I asked, quietly.

He rubbed his chest. "Yes," he said shortly. He didn't appear to know what to do. He looked around the room. There was a bed and a bathroom, a wardrobe and another door, which he opened to reveal another room, much like the one we were in. "This is yours," he added.

"Thank you," I said, small but heartfelt. "I'm—I'm afraid of the dark."

"I know," was the short response.

We were quiet for a second. He was still wheezing.

"Sev-Severus?" I asked, concerned about his breathing and trying out his first name. He glanced at me, and rubbed his chest again.

"Moody has a temper," Was all he said.

I glared at nothing in particular. "But you're on his s-side!" I snapped.

He raised his eyebrows at me.

"…Sort of," I amended. He snorted, slightly. "Well," I added, angry for his sake, "they're not really going to get you to help by hurting you all the time. Is that why you always come back bleeding?" I kept my voice frank. I knew by now he would not accept concern. I always pretended not to notice.

"Yes," was the short reply. He went and sat on the corner of the bed.

"D-do the Death Eaters…?" I asked timidly.

"Rarely."

There was a silence.

I sighed, after a while, and went to the other room and dropped my bag on the bed. I turned back at him. He was not facing me.

"Thank you," I repeated, quietly. "For—everything."

He turned. "Everything?" he sounded incredulous.

You never once took me before Voldemort, I wanted to say. You hid me from Dumbledore, who scares me. You didn't force me to reveal too much information; you never put me in that moral dilemma. I want to save Sirius, but changing the books could be bad. You haven't made me make that choice. I never had to choose sides; you kept me out of the line of fire.

"Yes," was all I said.

He stared at me for a while, as if he'd never seen anything quite like me. Then he got up, and left the room.

I heard Moody shouting from somewhere, and Dumbledore's soothing voice. Severus slammed a door somewhere – he slams it in such a way that it reverberates just so.

And I was alone. But it wasn't dark.

I pulled out my Odyssey, and read.

-

I didn't know, about a day or so later, that it was Christmas, until I found a small package by the one of the legs of my bed. It was wrapped in green and silver, of course, and contained a small card that made the holiday obvious.

I remember thinking, "It's December? Huh," and then opening the package.

Remember the necklace I mentioned in the beginning? The one with the vial, and the snake?

That's what was inside. I was absolutely floored.

I put it on, even though I was already wearing the oak leaf necklace I'd brought from home. The one with the vial was longer, though, so they didn't really tangle.

The only one who knew I was here, who presumably thought of me as a person rather than a useful Muggle, was Severus.

But I didn't have anything for him.

I rooted through my bag, but couldn't find anything worth giving to him. I thought, for a while, to give him a violently red pen (for grading and insulting students, of course,) but it didn't really match up.

I mean – a necklace! And it was so beautiful, too. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to take it off to look at it, or to just stop obsessing and wear it. But I was amazed – the tiny snake was crafted beautifully, and even had individual scales and eyes. And what could one put in a vial so small?

Severus caught me sitting on my bed, pooling the chain in my palm, and counting the scales on the tiny snake. I looked up at him and beamed.

He seemed embarrassed. Severus handed me a plate full of food, muttered something like "Courtesy of Mrs. Weasley," before dodging out of the room.

I made to follow him, but I was too late – he was already out the door.

I blinked at the closed door and smiled. He was – gasp, shock and awe – sweet.

I couldn't think of anything to give him. Which was, you know, bad. Contemplatively, I ate my breakfast, even though I didn't like sausages, and wondered what on earth I could do for him.

Upon finishing my breakfast, I slipped off the bed and started rooting through my bag. Five binders, my Odyssey, gym clothes, the clothes Severus'd given me, the candle Severus'd given me, my two flashlights, my graphing calculator, my science calculator, my emergency-keychain-oh-crap-I-don't-have-my-calculator calculator, my Latin book, several zillion pens and pencils and erasers and eight dollars and seventy-five cents in a small money pouch thing. I sat back, my crap all around me, and stared at it for a while.

"What are you doing?" Severus demanded, and I yelped, leaping ten feet in the air. He smirked and arched an eyebrow. So much for being awkward, I thought with an internal smile.

"You s-scared me!" I said indigently, smiling at him. His smirk softened a bit.

"You told me once that I was the scariest teacher in Hogwarts," he drawled.

"You're n-not my teacher," I told him dryly, leaning against the foot of my bed. I gestured to it. "Sit."

"Now I take orders from you?" he sneered, but sat on the bed anyway.

"Probably not." I smiled up at him, and played with the necklace. "I never got to thank you."

He looked startled and then he looked ready to bolt again. I spoke quickly, before he could move.

"But I have n-nothing for you." I gestured at my stuff. "This is all I have. Uh, I m-mean, if you want anything, then just take it, I mean—" Severus shook his head at me, then hastily patted my shoulder. "It's alright," he said, looking deeply, deeply embarrassed, and, by the way he straightened I could tell that something acidic and cruel was going to come out of his mouth. I readied myself.

There was a moment of awkward silence. I relaxed.

"Everyone is out visiting Arthur Weasley," Severus said suddenly, awkwardly. "If you wish to see the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black?" he sneered over the name, and I grinned at him, pushing my stuff in a pile.

"That'd be great!"

He sneered at my pile. "Bit of a slob, aren't we?"

It rolled off me like water off a duck's back. I gave myself mental pats on the back for not being upset. "Nuh," I answered, standing, offering a hand to help him stand as well and unsurprised when he ignored it, "I'd be a slob if I c-couldn't find anything. Thing is, everything is exactly where it's supposed to be. On the floor."

He snorted, smirking at me. "Most things go on a desk."

I knew better than to tease him about the messy state of his desk. Instead I said, "Desks are overrated," and follow him out of the room.

I felt the change. Our conversation was easier than before, and Severus seemed to regard me better than he had. And I knew why it changed, too. It wasn't because he suddenly decided that I was his bestest friend and it'd be butterflies and rainbows from there. That was far from it. It was because Severus is a very, very selfish man, who had grown used to me being there. When Dumbledore had attempted to take me from him, it had flipped a switch in his brain. Nothing belonged to Severus until someone tried to take it away, because everything important in his life had been stolen from him. When Dumbledore tried to put me in the attic, I had switched categories in his brain; I'd gone from "Irritating, But Tolerable," to "Important, and Mine."

And Severus is very, very possessive of what is his.

And me? I'd taken full advantage of him being nice to me. Because being in the "Mine" category, he'd opened up to me, a little. I could, officially, hurt him now. And if I did that, even a little bit, even just teasing him, it'd be right back to open hostility. He was testing the waters, so to speak. Seeing if I was fit to go into the next category, which was "Safe." I don't think anyone, except the owl he had and maybe, briefly, Draco, was in the "Safe" category. Draco, though, had grown up, and done or said something cruel to Severus, or maybe even just teased him, and transferred himself out of "Safe" and back into "Mine."

Or, well, I think so anyway. This is all just sort of guesswork. What else do you think I did, sitting alone on a room or a wardrobe all day? I translated Latin, read, and psychoanalyzed Severus.

Have I mentioned that the man is extremely high-maintenance? No? Well, I should've.

Anyway.

He showed me around Grimmald Place, which was huge. We snuck past the sleeping portrait of Mrs. Black, and he showed me through several rooms, explaining this or that. At one point, something small, black and evil-looking dragged itself across the floor, and Severus picked it up by its broken wings, identified it as a Doxie ("No r, you imbecile,") and vaporized it. I was a bit uneasy by the harsh treatment of the creature, but he sneered and told me it was venomous, and, since I was a Muggle, it could probably kill me. I told him that that was not the creature's fault. He sneered and reminded me that all the animals were not my friends. I told him that I didn't get that memo, and he let loose one of his surprising, hooting laughs. I almost forgot, on our stroll around the manor, that it was a holiday. That is, until we walked past the tree. Severus must have noticed that I was quieter after that, but he didn't comment.

It wasn't an awful Christmas, all in all, but I still missed my family. I thought wistfully of the tree that I'd've decorated with my friends a month ago, about the family reunion we always had on Christmas day, just after opening presents. I thought about my uncle's cooking and my cousin's laughter.

I missed them. I missed my mom and dad, I missed my friends. Maybe Severus picked up on that, I dunno. Or maybe he just guessed I was thinking about home, because, as the front door swung open, emitting the Weasleys and Harry, as Severus ushered me into my room to hide me from them, he touched my shoulder, briefly. Physical contact was rare with him, so I smiled wanly, and he quirked his lips in response before sweeping out.

And that was that. I sat for the remainder of the afternoon, playing with my new necklace, until someone knocked on my door. When I opened it, I saw no one, but my dinner was on the ground. I wondered about Kreacher for a moment, but then realized that Sirius must've already kicked him out. I picked up the plate and carried it inside.

It was very good – turkey with some sort of sweet glaze. I ate as much of it as I could, but it was very filling. It was excellent.

To my great surprise, one Molly Weasley opened my door soon after I finished dinner. She was instantly recognizable, with bright red hair and a big smile, slightly overweight.

"Hello, dear," she said. I liked her instantly. Finally, someone I liked!

I looked awkwardly at her. "Um," I said eloquently, eyeing the plate in her hand, a plate that happened to hold something that vaguely resembled ice cream, "Hi?"

She gestured at the plate and said, "I know I shouldn't be seeing you here, but it's simply terrible for anyone to eat alone – especially at Christmas! I thought you might like some desert." She offered me the plate.

I hadn't had ice cream in ages. I beamed at her. "Thanks!" I said, taking it carefully.

Vanilla with chocolate fudge. My favorite. She smiled. "You're welcome, dear. Now, I know better than to ask you anything, and we've been told specifically not to see you or mention you to Harry, but…" she shifted uneasily, and a shiver shot down my spine. I looked at her, wide eyed. But I knew what she was asking. She wanted to know if any of her family would die.

"The books aren't f-finished," I muttered, looking down at my ice cream, "So I don't know." I didn't want to hurt her, but I suspected and still do suspect that some of the Weasley clan will die. This realization hurt a bit, because, upon meeting her, I realized that these were indeed people – at least, in that universe they were, and their deaths would be real, and not just a thing in a book. It's sad, but there are so many Weasleys, something is bound to happen… "I—" I murmured, "I can't—"

She swiped at her eyes. "I know, dear. It's alright." Then the bright smile was right back in place. "Thank you, though. Now, eat up. You're terribly thin."

Severus would've made a cutting remark at her for that comment, something about how she was not. It was a relief to not have to worry about his sarcasm. I smiled back at her. "I will. Thank you again. Severus only rarely brings me something sweet to eat."

An eyebrow shot up. "'Severus?'" she asked.

I shrugged. "I've been living with him for a few m-months, kinda strange to call him by his l-last name… he's not objected."

She gave me a long, hard look. I looked back, slightly confused.

"If he's hurt you," she told me softly, "you can tell me. I can help—"

"Hurt," I realized in about three seconds, was a euphemism for "rape." I was startled.

"He wouldn't," I shook my head at her, "Really." I wasn't lying. I trusted him. I also knew him. He wasn't a very physical person. He'd never, in the months I'd lived with him, invaded my personal space. He'd never even stuck his head inside my wardrobe, and the only time he'd touched me and frightened me was to yank me out once. But that was only once, and he hadn't hurt me. He'd only touched me on the shoulder today, and that was only after he'd decided that I was his property, thank you, and he wasn't sharing me with Dumbledore. Besides, I was the same age as some of his students, and I said so. She nodded slowly.

"You'll have to forgive me. He's very hard to trust. Why did you want to stay with him? He isn't very nice," Mrs. Weasley murmured.

"I trust him," I shrugged. "He's kept my out of the line of f-fire. He's prevented me from worrying about what I can and can't say. He's helped me."

She nodded slowly. "I suppose when you put it that way… well, anyway, I must be getting back. Enjoy your ice cream."

"T-thanks again," I smiled, and she left.

She'd gone pretty fast when I'd defended Severus. I wondered why.

The ice cream was delicious, obviously home made, the fudge too. I enjoyed it immensely, but didn't know what to do with the plate. I rinsed it in my bathroom sink and left it there. Then I read my Odyssey until I went to sleep. I was almost finished with it.

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