Chapter Four – My Immortal

Your presence still lingers here . . .

The more time Severus spent healing, the longer it seemed to take. The woman taking care of him was often exasperated, and Severus noticed her holding back tears more than once, when she thought he wasn't looking. Her secret sniveling bothered him on a small level, but in a way, he found pleasure in it. He wasn't used to being cared for, and her worry wasn't riddled with pity, but with genuine concern.

The most difficult part of it all was the enormous amount of time it was taking for Severus to be able to do anything alone. He hated not being able to take care of himself, and longed for independence. The woman could tell he didn't like being fussed over, and tried not to hover over his bedside. Often, she'd retreat to the small room she'd created for herself, just off to the side of his. Severus learned that she'd prepared the rooms and tunnel for them just before she entered the Shrieking Shack, which meant she known he was going to die before he had, but no matter how he prodded her for information, she wouldn't say anything.

In the shelter of the tunnel room, it was hard to tell day from night, but the woman approached his bedside at what seemed to be regular intervals. Each day, she'd check on him, and then leave to check on how things were proceeding in the outside world. She was never gone more than thirty minutes, but she always brought back a full report. Hogwarts was in ruins, most of the Death Eaters had been taken to Azkaban, but a good number were still missing, wizards and magical creatures of all sorts were milling about everywhere, and a new Ministry was forming in attempt to get things under control.

In her ministrations, the woman was very attentive to his health—focusing only on filling him with potions and food and casting healing spells over him—but each day she grew more disappointed that her efforts weren't producing the results she wanted. After an entire week, Severus was still fragile and practically helpless. The venom had spread too far before she had been able to help him, and it had taken a lot out of him.

One day, the woman came to him with a worried look on her face.

"I'm afraid we've run out of food," she said. "I didn't know we'd be down here this long."

Severus scowled at her. He didn't need reminding that he was still powerless to do anything.

"Why don't you go and get me more?" he said spitefully.

"I didn't want to leave you for such a long period—"

"Or better still," he continued, "why don't you take me to a hospital? Surely I'd receive better care there." The question came out more like an insult than he'd originally meant, but he made no attempt to soften the blow.

"I'm doing the best I can," she said with a quiver, "I'm sorry it isn't enough for you. But I can't take you to a hospital. You'd be on your way to Azkaban in a heartbeat!"

Severus sighed in frustration. She was right, of course. The new Ministry was nowhere near cleaning up the mess left over from Voldemort's regime, and in their eyes, he was still guilty. Still, he wondered if her care was getting him anywhere. It certainly didn't feel like it.

When he didn't say anything, she changed the subject. "In any case, we do need more food. And more potion supplies definitely wouldn't hurt."

"Then I suggest you go and get them," he said. "I will be fine."

She still didn't look convinced, but eventually agreed that the need outweighed her worries. She couldn't take care of him without provisions, after all. As she prepared to leave him, she made sure his wand was within his reach, just in case.

"I don't know how long I'll be," she said. "I'll be as quick as possible."

He grunted in reply, something he was pleased to be able to do again. Slowly, his throat was regaining function.

She walked down the tunnel, sneaking looks back at him every few steps. Then, with a turn, she was gone. Severus let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He hadn't been alone, truly, alone, in what seemed like forever. He'd been waiting for this for a long time, but as soon as she left he found that it wasn't as appealing as he'd thought it'd be.

Time passed slowly, and he found himself growing bored. There were some books on his bedside table, but he'd already read all of them. He tried to sleep, but it wouldn't come. He had nothing to do but lay there and wait.

After what felt like hours, he couldn't take it any longer. Though his body was still weak, his mind and willpower were strong. And without the woman there to see, and therefore chastise him, he decided to try getting out of bed. He knew it was probably a bad idea, since he was alone, but his muscles would just waste away without proper use and he was going to go crazy if he lay there one more minute.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, then let himself rest. He took it slow, taking a break after each movement. Finally, he had his feet on the floor. With one hand on the bed, and one hand on the table, he pushed himself up with all his might and nearly fell over. Just in time, though, he caught himself and sat back down. Taking deep breaths, he tried again, this time more ready for how his body would react.

He was definitely shaky, but he made it into a standing position, careful not to hit his head on a candle, he stood and reached for his wand. Using the wall as a support, he made his way down the tunnel, one small step at a time. He made it to the end after several minutes, and was finally able to see what lay beyond the turn. The tunnel sloped upward, and at the top, there was a small space with a makeshift trapdoor above it. Severus could see cracks of light shining from above it.

He made his way upward, and wedged himself into the space, with hardly enough room to sit. He had to hunch over as he tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. At first he thought he just didn't have enough strength, but soon it was apparent that the door was held down by magic. Severus was almost delighted. He'd been craving a challenge.

After many fruitless attempts to break the enchantment, he finally did it. The door made a soft creaking noise, and he was able to push it open. Above the door, there was a view of the sky, surrounded by trees. He must be in the Forbidden Forest. Slowly, he began to poke his head out the opening to get an idea of his exact location.

Suddenly, he was aware of how intensely cold it was outside. His breath rose in swirls, and frost sparkled on the ground around the opening. He was at a loss. How could it be so cold? It was May, not December . . . unless he'd been fooled. How long had he really been unconscious?

Perhaps the woman had lied to him, he thought. Was she holding him captive, keeping him weak on purpose? There had to be another explanation, but now he wondered why he had trusted her so blindly. The woman wouldn't even tell him her name . . .

The cold seeped into his bones, but he found himself unable to do anything about it. He had no strength, having used it all on his trek to the trapdoor. He was going to die alone, for real this time. There would be no going back. There was no point, was there?

Severus didn't feel like there was a point to anything anymore. He'd gone through so much, and had nothing to show for it. Lily had turned from him, and she'd been the only one to like him in the first place.

Why was he focusing on her once more? He tried to push her away, but it was no use. She was there, and she wasn't going anywhere. He could almost see her. Over and over again, the horrible word he'd called her began to taunt him. Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood…

He wished he was already dead. The cold was so intense it hurt, and he couldn't get Lily out of his mind. He thought he'd finally let go of her, but the image of her face was haunting him. He wasn't good enough for her, and he never had been. Why had he been so stupid, thinking he could ever deserve her? How could he ever deserve anyone?

Coming back had been a mistake. At least he'd been peaceful before, even if it wasn't complete. Here, he was an outcast. There was no starting over. There was nothing, and now he'd pay for his mistake. He was going to die alone, painfully, and slowly in the cold. He'd never be able to survive the dropping temperature, but he had just enough strength in him to make it hurt. It was what he deserved.

Then, he began to feel numb. It was a welcome sensation. The world seemed to be fading away. All his feelings melted into nothingness, and he couldn't remember caring about anything.

A strange sensation pulled from deep inside him. The sinews that held him together began to stretch and break, first gathering in his gut, then traveling up his chest, pulled by an unseen force. He would have wondered if this was what dying felt like, but he'd been through that once before and it was nothing like this.

A silvery substance spread over the ground, and Severus prepared for the cold to intensify, but it felt warmer somehow. He'd heard that when a person froze, they were enveloped in warmth just before death. This must be it, he thought. He waited.

But the warmth continued to grow. It was as if someone had turned off the cold completely and was filling him up with heat, pouring it in generously. Feeling began to return to him, inside and out. All of a sudden, the world was there again. It all came rushing at him.

A silver Patronus was charging down a group of Dementors. He couldn't tell what form it took, however, because as he strained to look, he was knocked over by a mass of blond hair.

"Severus!" said a voice from beneath the hair. The woman had returned, and she was holding onto his neck with a surprisingly strong grip.

He could barely make out the things she was saying. He picked up a few words here and there.

Dementors . . . gone . . . soul . . . safe . . .

It was all too much for him to take in. He tried, but he could feel himself slipping away. His body was too weak to survive such an ordeal, and for what seemed like the thousandth time within days, he passed out.