Somewhere Out There: Memories and Warnings
I twirled the ring on my finger absently, watching it glimmer in the store lights. It brought a smile to my face when I remembered the good times of the Golden Trio. We were truly inseparable, three misfits finding our own paths in the world of magic where we were either second-best, of cursed blood, or the "Chosen One." Harry hated the title, especially when the younger children followed him around like he was some kind of god. He never cared for the hero worship, worried more about how to complete the feat set before him than stroking his ego. His teenage "macho" spirit had disappeared by then, replaced by the realities of death and loss. Ron, however, always wanted to be that step ahead and for one time in his life, be really, really good at something. He wanted the recognition.
I was somewhere in the middle, behind-the-scenes yet in the forefront of the mix. Both of the boys hated my incessant need to know everything, but when the time came for exams, they drank from the fountain of knowledge in hopes of scraping even. Most of the time, I wasn't heartless enough to let them down, but there were many times I had considered it. As I grew older, I matured faster, watching them have their fun from the sidelines, giving gentle warnings that were never listened to no matter how stern they were. I was still a child because I wanted to drink in the last moments of freedom, but I noticed all too soon the changes in Harry and Ron, the darker changes that led Harry deeper into his own mind and Ron further away from reality. I missed the chance to be a child again, to do something so completely and unbelievably idiotic that all three of us could laugh again.
As I kept twisting the ring on my finger, I thought about the first time I met them. For the first time, I realized what a bossy little chit I really was back then. It made me smile as I thought about all the stupid things I'd done at Hogwarts; almost getting killed by a mountain troll, brewing Polyjuice Potion and changing myself into a cat, and punching Malfoy in the face only skimmed the surface of my misdeeds. I just was immature in a more "mature" way, if that made any sense…which it really doesn't. Then the war caught up with all of us, changing us and maturing us far too fast. All of us, including the adults, looked old and drawn anytime we met them when Hogwarts was the last resort. They had watched their friends die, families disappear, and their hearts no longer held up to the tortures of a sick-minded villain like they used to back then.
Still, bathed in the happy glow of memories of Hogwarts, I smiled. I would never trade in my younger years of schooling for any comparative in the Muggle world. There was no true comparative to the mystical nature of Hogwarts, its many professors and students falling in place as if it were a university setting. Its goal was to teach young minds how to make choices, the right choices, not the choices of a dark path that led nowhere. Muggle schools taught a child science, mathematics, history, but failed to point out the realities of life. Hogwarts taught that one ingredient of a potion could kill, one missed wave of the wand becomes the wrong incantation, and two words equal death. I preferred it that way. Skirting issues got no one anywhere, except it seems, for one Slytherin man.
Severus Snape had skirted the edges of loyalty and trust in the Order of the Phoenix, playing in no-man's-land between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore for so long many assumed the lines had blurred together for the wizard. After the death of Dumbledore during the Final Battle, the Wizarding World had either assumed he'd gone completely mad at the hands of the Dark Lord or had been the Dark Lord's trained assassin against Dumbledore. No one bothered to look at which Death Eater they had killed when the others ran to Dumbledore's aid. They assumed it was Snape, fallen wizard loyal to Voldemort. I huffed to myself as I realized whatever wizard had sent up that cry of joy had been summarily wrong considering Severus Snape was still a living, breathing wizard.
"Who gave you the ring? It's gorgeous!" squeaked a voice on my left.
Turning to look at Sadie, I smiled back at her awed expression. Slipping the ring off my finger, I gestured for her to open her hands. When she did, I dropped the ring in her hands so she could get a closer look at it without tearing my hand in front of her face. Her eyes sparkled and lit up when she noticed the size of the diamond and smaller rubies. They weren't very large, but she looked at them for a long moment, finally giving a wistful sigh and returning it to me.
"You never answered me. Who gave it to you?" Sadie said, her hands on her hips, waiting expectantly for an answer.
I bit my lip, remembering what Snape had said about being careful around these people before giving her my response. As much as I hated to listen to Snape, I knew he was right, especially in this town. The town newspaper was nothing more than a gossip rag, taking innocent peoples' private lives and baring them to the scrutiny of the public eye. I inwardly swore at the baseness and stupidity of people. At times, I felt as if I was walking on pins and needles, being careful to avoid the sharp points of brutality that these people were more than capable to commit, only with words, not wands.
"A friend, a very dear friend," I claimed, finally able to respond with a hint of sadness in my eyes and voice.
"Do you ever see him?" Sadie asked.
I gazed out into the parking lot, watching the cars go by on the street, and I whispered back. "No, Sadie…I can't. He's dead."
A gasp of shock escaped from her as her hand flew to cover her mouth. I occupied myself while she digested that, grabbing a towel and the purple cleaner and proceeding to clean the drink stations. I brutally attacked the counter with the spray and towel, proceeding to eradicate every last blemish on the surface, making it disappear. I was working on a particularly tough section when I felt a presence behind me and a hand reach around me to the blue creamer. Sandalwood drifted to me and my shoulders relaxed visibly, some of the tension seeping out.
"Nell, that spot has not come out in two years. I would think it useless to try now," Snape said, in a voice barely above a whisper.
"I think, Sullivan, that we all must try at least once to prove that theory true," I bit back, annoyed that I had been scrubbing for ten minutes with little to no success, and that Snape had caught me at it.
"Do as you must." He responded, dismissal in his tone.
Irritated even further, I bit back a smart remark and kept scrubbing. After another minute or two, Snape lingering over my shoulder with an evident smirk on his face, I tossed the disposable towel into the trash can, stomping away with my disappointment at looking ridiculous in front of one of my professors. It seemed that Snape still enjoyed terrorizing me, no matter if it was a different country and situation. I bit my lip, grabbing a carton of cigarettes to stock while I waited for the next customer to come to my register, forcing a smile when Snape appeared at mine, smirk still on his face.
I gave him a cool look, one that Sadie said could melt stone, but his smirk did not falter. His eyes flashed with some unknown emotion, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, giving me no time to analyze what his thought was. I rang up his coffee, took his money, and as I gave him his change, our hands brushed and he clasped mine gently, the tips of my fingers caught in his hand. I looked up at him to find a hint of sadness in his eyes that disappeared as quickly as it most likely appeared.
"Your hands are…"
"…still cold." I said, looking at him with a real smile, however small. "I know. I've been trying to keep them warmer, but I was stocking the cooler an hour ago. They haven't quite warmed up again yet."
"Good." At this, he looked around, noticing only one older gentleman reading the paper. He was turned away from us, but I was surprised when Snape squeezed my fingers gently before releasing them. "Remember to punch my card. I will see you in the morning, Miss Johnson," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
At that, he left quickly, smoothly getting into his car and driving away. I watched him leave, gazing out the window, and heard a rustle of paper to my left and the doorbell sound again. I saw the older man's jacket as he left the store in a hurry, starting up his rather noisy truck and speeding away. I shrugged, merely thinking he had seen something in the paper he didn't like. Either way, he didn't buy it, so it was of no concern to me. I turned to the clock, sighing when I noticed three hours left. Grabbing a bottle of cleaner and some towels, I dragged the stepladder outside and towards the gas pumps. It was time to make them shine.
Over the next week, my interactions with Snape increased in frequency and length. As the spring lengthened into early summer, more young children came into "BISTO" as the days got longer, parking their small bicycles outside the front doors. I began to see this place as more of a home for the ones who slipped through the cracks, families that lived on food stamps and came to the store for the deals on milk and bread, lower than the market down the way. Old friends from years before came to the store to talk, buy their lottery tickets and a newspaper, than drive off slowly in their cars after an hour's worth of conversation. It was the "place to be" for the older crowd living in White Pine.
Being such, it was also the place for gossip. I listened with closed ears many times, knowing little about this town and its inhabitants, but every so often something interesting caught my ears. While I was stocking the beer cooler, I happened to catch an irritated comment when the cooler door opened on the other side.
"I wish they would fire him already. I don't want a murderer teaching my children," the man said vehemently. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he spoke a little more to the woman on his right. "He ain't done nothin' but cause trouble ever since he came, and I for one, don't want him around here any longer."
The woman did little but nod in agreement, shuffling along with her little child, its hand gripping onto her leg with force. Her eyes caught mine from where I was before it buried its face in her mother's leg, eyes wide with fright. I wondered what scared the child so much, but I merely stocked more alcohol as I thought about the incident. Conversations like this had become more and more frequent on the night shift, Sadie claimed, but she never really told me much about them. I was curious, a trait that had never left me, and my curiosity was being tempted sorely by these rash statements.
Few people talked with me besides my coworkers, and even the conversations I had with them were short and sweet. No one told me about the town, other than a little about the regulars that showed up daily. I knew the regulars by heart after a month or so of working at "BISTO." Richard played the lotto much more at the first of the month when his check came in and he had a rather large mutt whose ribs stuck out from lack of food. Cheryl came in every night for a paper and two cookie dough milkshakes, one prepared and one closed for the next morning's breakfast. One man always came in with a beat-up red truck for three packs of Reds, soft pack, every two or three days. Still, none of these people interested me as much as Snape, the ever-enigmatic Sullivan.
He had yet to answer any of the questions I had about his disappearance, the Final Battle, or how he ended up in the small town of White Pine in Midwestern America. Deep inside, I felt there was much more to the story than he would ever tell me…unless there was a certain trick. I truly knew nothing about the man, but I did know how he liked his coffee. As I thought, an idea clicked and a plan moved itself into motion like the ticking of a grandfather clock. If I knew a little about Snape, I knew that Sadie would know more. I just had to convince her to tell me.
I did not have to wait very long. Sadie was moved back to the afternoon shift with me after one particular drunken character had threatened her verbally and had nearly assaulted her. Quick thinking had placed the man in jail, but left the employees rather frightened and Amber much more careful with her scheduling. The town of White Pine was no longer a sleeping retirement community, but one that was showing its ugly head quite visibly. Sadie was very shaken after the incident, understandably, but she was open to me, confiding in me. She was hesitant to tell me why, finally confessing a week after the incident.
"You don't know anything about this town or its people unless someone tells you. You ask questions, but nothing about people's lives. I can trust you not to pry. I expect you have your secrets as I have mine, secrets I won't ever be willing to tell. The people in this town are vultures, Nell, and they will tear you apart unless you prepare yourself. What that man did…" she shuddered as she remembered, "that was nothing. These people play with emotions, not physical harm. Few words can send you to jail, but he happened to hit the mark because he was drunk."
"What about Sullivan?" I asked innocently. "Why has he adjusted so smoothly to this town?"
A glare from her told me otherwise, confirming for me that things are not always what they appear to be. "I swear sometimes, girl, you are completely senseless! Sullivan is only avoided because of his run-ins with the police. He's a very shady character." She edged closer, whispering now into my ear. "He killed someone, Nell…at least that's what they say." A shiver ran down her spine as she shook from its sudden chill, pulling her face away from mine. I noticed she wore less makeup now, the liner a little lighter and the colors more muted. It made her look human again, not like a painted doll in a store window.
"Sadie, we are human. We make mistakes," I replied, knowing that he had killed many more people without regret than Sadie could even dream.
"Not mistakes like that…never a mistake like that," she responded, shaking her head frantically. "Nell, please don't get involved with him. He's different," she begged of me, pleading with me through the tone of her voice.
"I never said he wasn't. However, so am I," I said, looking at her with a pointed stare.
After a moment or two, I asked her another question. "What is he doing in White Pine?"
"Truthfully, no one really knows. He bought a house near the edge of town, near the trails, but it's a rather large house for one person. Some say he brought someone with him from Britain, but he's the only one to leave or enter the house. Those rumors died down until a few months ago when a few teenagers could have sworn they saw a young woman with him one night on the property, but that story died off pretty soon too. Cops found out the teenagers were drunk and had been hanging around the graveyards after dark to drink. They all got warnings from the force about trespassing and the alcohol, so no one said very much after that. He's always kept to himself, so no one ever asks."
I pondered for a bit, finding that last statement hard to believe. It was my impression that trespassing and an overall interest in the "shady character" of Severus Snape had become an unhealthy obsession for this town's population. He was but another link in the chain, an endless source of mystery and speculation, the perfect fodder for wagging tongues and loose speech. I turned back to the cigarettes, again stocking them since it seemed no one else did, when Sadie spoke again.
"They talk about you too. Some claim you're dangerous like him. Amber has gotten lots of hate mail from hiring you, but it hasn't deterred her any. Judy and I laughed about it earlier. We both think you can't even hurt a fly because you have such a soft heart. It's evident in the way you smile at these people…it's as if you really care about them." After a few moments, she whispered to me, "Don't get involved with him, though. The vultures will tear you apart."
"They are the least of my worries. I can handle them," I said confidently.
"I hope so…I like you. I don't want you to leave," she smiled.
"Whoever said I was going to leave? I don't have anywhere else to go." I smiled back at her, dropping a few cigarette packs from my clumsiness. As I bent down to pick them up, I smacked my head on the pulled out rack, causing Sadie to laugh.
Everything was back to normal once again, except for the fact I now had a small lump from where I caught the corner of the rack. I heard a splat and saw Coke slushie on the newly swept floor, quickly running to grab the mop bucket, all the while thinking about what exactly I'd gotten myself into this time.