Title:
Twenty-one days
Prequel to:
A few days more
Author:
evil minded
Date:
November, 26th 2009
Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts
Summary:
AU / Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle enfolds its own magic. Can some students survive for the next twenty-one days?
Disclaimer:
Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?
Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?
Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …
Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16
Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …
Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
Previously in twenty-one days
"Alright, dear brother, then what is it you wish to create in your unlimited wisdom?"
"In my unlimited wisdom, I wish to make a special exploding fluid.""What kind of special exploding fluid do you wish to make, oh Master of the pranks?"
"One that will toss all the Slytherins out of their beds, you ignoramus."
"Oh, you Master of the pranks, and how do you think you will manage this in your unlimited wisdom?"
"With the help of a teacher, for once."
"With the – alright, dear brother, now I start to doubt your unlimited wisdom! Because never – absolutely never – get a teacher in on one of your pranks!"
Chapter twenty-six
Day twenty - Saturday, twenty-first of September
The end is near
Sleeping had become a rather difficult thing, not only for Harry, but for the others as well as they were awakened by the boy's screams and sobs each time he had a nightmare. But none of them complained or made fun of the boy, and Severus was glad for that. All of them had started to have nightmares over the past few days, some more, some less, but none of them, not even Theodore who had them every night as well, had as violent and brutal nightmares as had Harry, and he had trouble getting the boy out of them each time – and it became harder to get him out of his nightmares and awake the weaker the boy became, he noticed.
He had bound himself to this child without knowing where all of this would end up, without a second thought and without hesitation, he had bound himself to this child that even now was slipping away into shadows, that had become weaker and weaker within hours now, that had become a shadow of himself even.
The rings beneath the tired eyes had turned into large and dark smudges and even with the blanket dropped over him, his thinness was obvious, and was the now constantly shivering – what didn't help his weak state to begin with. The boy's breath had become an uneven struggle, the lungs giving away a scratching sound with each breath he took, and the child had started coughing every now and then throughout the night while the movements of the skeletal limbs had become sluggish and weak.
Severus ran his hand over his face tiredly. There was no denying it, the child was dying. Slowly, and not without a fight, but inevitably the child was dying, and he was dying a bit more with each hour that passed.
The teen had slept fairly well through the morning after he had been awake for an hour or two, and he had come halfway awake a couple of times since, definitely only vaguely aware of his, Severus', presence – in his cupboard!
That was the place where Harry's mind seemed to reside mostly since yesterday now, and he had the bad feeling that it had already started the day before even, the child fearing that he were back in his cupboard instead of in the potions classroom, and not only during his dreams but in his wakefulness as well. There had been one or another comment the child had made that had made him frown, that had caused him to think that the boy might believe he were back in his cupboard. Just one or another short comment in the beginning, but it had become more frequent yesterday and now? Now the boy definitely seemed to believe that he were back there and never mind what he, Severus, tried to tell him, it simply didn't work.
Resting his hand on Harry's forehead when the child started to mumble again, he rearranged the blankets around him and murmured soft words of comfort and reassurance, hoping that the child might catch them in his sleep, and like each time before his son drifted off again within minutes.
He rested his hand on the pale forehead for another few moments, studying the pale and worn face of his son. Although asleep once more at the moment, Harry twitched and mumbled, too low to really make out the words, but his expression, his twisted face, the deep lines around the child's sunken eyes and around the small nose, around the edges of the boy's tightly clenched lips betrayed the unpleasantness of his dreams.
And yet – as much as he disliked his son being in such an amount of terror in his sleep, he couldn't help thinking that this was better than the moments when he suddenly lay completely still, his breathing so shallow that Severus couldn't help hurrying towards his son, anxiously placing his hand on the boy's chest, checking his pulse, his heart, his breathing, fearing it wouldn't be there anymore – because only a corpse could lie so still.
And he had done that for several times these past hours now.
But was it better for the child? Or was it better for him? And was it better for the other students?
They all had become very silent since Harry was so restless und yet unresponsive at the same time, more sleeping than anything else – weak and close to death, and they all turned worried faces towards them, holding their breathes, whenever he, Severus hurried over to the child to check his vital signs whenever Harry became so still.
So – his more restless sleep definitely reassured the other children just as well as him, Severus, were they yet able to see that their friend was still alive. But was it better for the child himself as well?
No – for the child himself a peaceful sleep surely would be better, and it only was selfish of them to wait for signs of distress just to ease their own fears.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
Once again Harry stirred on his mattress and this time he actually struggled to open his eyes, slowly, squinting them despite that the light of the two candles and the fireplace was not really bright. It nevertheless seemed to hurt his eyes and the low moan that escaped his lips made Severus hurry over to him.
"Sorry." He immediately mumbled, trying to sit up.
Of course Severus knew why the boy apologized. It wasn't the first time since the past few days that the boy apologized upon his, Severus', quick approach and he knew that the child felt guilty for causing him to give so much attention.
"Do not be, and remain laying for a moment, you are too tired." Snape said, avoiding the word weak and placing a firm hand on Harry's shoulder to prevent the boy from getting up.
It had been the Dursleys that had planted this into the child's mind, that he didn't deserve any attention, that he had to apologize for being ill and needing care – not that he ever had gotten any at his relatives. Blasted bastards!
Softly starting to run a wet cloth over the child's face he made sure to clean the boy's eyes carefully to get rid of the remnants of sleep before getting the potion for his eyes out of the pocket of his shirt.
"Look at me, Harry." Severus softly demanded and Harry quickly complied, amazed at the softness he found in Snape's voice as well as in his eyes that was nearly startling if compared to just a few weeks ago when they would have seemed like a sheet of ice. The moment his vision cleared somewhat after Snape had applied drops of the potion to his eyes he however was startled at the fact that the Potions Master's eyes were red, as if …
"Dad?" He softly asked, his eyes wide.
"Yes, Harry?" The man asked while he wrung the cloth above the bowl of warm water and then took one of the boy's small and thin hands, running the cloth over the palm and the skeletal fingers.
"What … what's wrong, dad?" The boy asked and Severus could hear the worry in his son's voice – a voice that sounded as weak as the child looked like.
"Nothing." The Potions Master said while opening the boy's shirt, slipping it off the bony body and then running the wet cloth over the thin chest. "Nothing is wrong, child."
"But … but you … you look as if you've been crying." Harry said and Severus sighed at seeing the startled and frightened look on the child's face, at hearing the frightened tone in the child's voice.
"I have." He quietly admitted, running his hand over his son's face before cupping the bony cheek. "It has been a long time down here and it is taking a toll on all of us. I am worried about you and your imbecilic friends, and so – yes, even your evil git of a Potions Master has his times of weakness once in a while."
"That's scary." Harry whispered and Severus had to admit that – yes, most likely it was. They were used to him being harsh and hard, being tough and sarcastic, being strong and leading them, not being weak and admitting that he had been crying earlier.
"Yes, I can imagine." He answered, quietly, while he ran his hand beneath the child's shoulders, easily lifting the boy's upper body off the mattress so he could wash his back. "But I told you – no hiding our weaknesses, and that goes for me as well as it goes for you. I am no exception here. Drink."
A cup of warm water was thrust before his eyes and Harry gratefully took it, if only to have something to hold in order to steady his trembling hands – or at least trying to steady them.
The older wizard that had become his father lifted a hand to caress his face, once again cupping his cheek before running his hand down his face in affection and love and Harry leaned into the warm and caring touch, realizing that as much as they had detested each other in the past – now Snape was one of the few people he ever would let touch him in any sort of manner. Closing his eyes for a moment he enjoyed the feeling of his father's love washing over him along the bond they had been forming with each other throughout the past few days and he realized that the man was the only adult that really cared for him, that cared for him like any father would for a son.
After several minutes Severus turned him and slowly, almost carefully picked him up into his lap, allowing him to simply lean on his chest and shoulder, and even if the knowledge that he was too old for being held like that, that he was a fourteen year old teenager and not a four year old toddler anymore, he couldn't bring himself to mind, relaxed back against the man holding him, enjoying the feeling of being held for once.
"No, you are not too old for being held by your father and I am here, Harry, whenever you need me." The older wizard said as if he had read his thoughts. "Never mind if for simply talking or for just being held. I am here and I am not going anywhere, child. Alright?"
"Hardly." Harry whispered. "You're locked down here with us after all." And yet – it was amazing how much of a comfort that knowledge was.
Snape would be there. Snape of all people, but Snape would be there. Snape was always there. Even when he had been weak and recovering from the Dursleys' beatings, he had been busy consoling his fears that Harry hadn't even dared voicing aloud. He had been here, and he would be here – until the end. It was a comforting knowledge. He would not have to die alone. Snape would he here with him, his father would be here with him.
And Snape didn't mind physical contact, didn't mind touching him, didn't mind holding him like a small child. He even had his father holding him in his arms when he was trying to get him to sleep. He didn't know what it was, but it probably was just the fact that he had a warm breathing body protecting him from the world, that made him falling asleep much quicker then. The older wizard wrapped his arms around him once more, pulling him closer, and Harry closed his eyes, trying to go back to sleep.
And even though Severus pretended to do the same, Harry knew he wouldn't fall asleep before him. He never did.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
"Seventeen little potions students,
were working on a potion,
one forgot it was a teen,
and left were only sixteen."
Neville murmured, more to himself than to anyone in particular before he chuckled lightly, causing the Potions Master to lift his eyebrow at him while the other children were looking over at the boy, startled for a moment.
"You do know, Neville, that even a teen is able to brew a potion correctly if following simple instructions?" He drawled, his dark eyes piercing the child.
"I do, Si- … Severus." The boy stammered, large eyes blinking in shock over his own daring to actually call the Potions Master, their Professor, their most strict and harsh Professor even, by his given name. "But I never managed that."
"Only because you are too insecure, Neville." He said, frowning, walking over to the boy and watching him close for a moment.
He knew that he had been as unfair with Neville as he had been with Harry. The boy was more than just capable at herbology, and herbology was a subject that was a basis when it came to potions. He however had seen the boy for the first time, had seen him hesitating, had seen him watching him terrified, and had listened to his nervous stuttering and he had immediately disliked the cowardice the boy had displayed, sneering at the fact that this boy had been sorted into the house of the lions when he had fit better into Hufflepuff.
He had, however, never thought about the fact that Neville had been raised by Augusta Longbottom, a very harsh and demanding woman that looked upon her son and her daughter-in-law with proud, that saw them as heroes, expecting the same from their child, her grandson – from a child that had been a baby only when his parents had been tortured into insanity and then ended up at St. Mungos, a child that of course could not live up to the woman's expectations.
And so – whatever Neville had been doing, it had never been good enough in Augusta Longbottom's eyes. He knew, because he knew Augusta Longbottom.
The no-nonsense woman was one he had always respected and therefore he had visited her once in a while, whenever she had invited him for tea, and so he had witnessed it firsthand, that – in her opinion – the boy was late in learning speaking, was too insecure when learning walking and was too messy when learning eating by himself.
He had never considered it before, but of course he would grow up insecure because too much had been expected of him too early, because he had always been compared to his parents that had been war-heroes – perhaps he should have a word with the woman the moment they were out of these dungeons.
If they ever got out, that was.
"You will see that after this here is over and we are back to brewing potions in a regular class, you will be able doing so, Neville." He quietly said, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I will help you with that, and I will not berate you. I won't be gentle, and I guess we both know that. It is a dangerous subject after all and there is no place for gentleness, not to mention that I am a harsh and strict man to begin with, but I will help you, I promise."
Well, the smile he got from not only Neville, but from Harry as well – it was worth his efforts it would take helping this particular boy brewing a decent potion in future lessons.
"Sixteen little potions students,
were taking out their cauldrons,
one thought the Master was too mean,
and left were only fifteen."
Lifting his eyebrow, the Potions Master looked over at Harry who – smirked at him! And it definitely was a smirk that was worth a Snape! Blasted brat! As weak as he had become over the past few days, he definitely seemed too comfortable in his presence as it seemed, he would have to remedy that the moment they were out of here!
But well – the boy made fun and that was worth being the aim of the fun. The boy made fun and still partook in the other children's actions, even while laying on his mattress, leaning with his back against the pillows he had gathered from the other mats while they were not occupied. The child still made fun – and so his scowl he showed the boy was only a half-hearted scowl. Because if the child still made fun and partook in fun the others made, that still meant that he had some strength left? Didn't it?
"Fifteen little potions students,
were taking out their books,
over her desk one girl did lean,
And left were only fourteen."
"Hmm." Severus made, watching Pansy with amusement in his dark eyes. "I will have you changing seats with – let me say Hermione, Miss Parkinson, which will prevent you from leaning over your desk to chat with Miss Bulstrode in my class."
"What?" The girl asked him, startled. "But then I would have to pair with Weasley! I do well together with Tracy! You can't …"
"Can I not, Pansy?" The Potions Master smirked. "Try me."
"Fourteen little potions students,
were taking out their things,
one of them did chew a Bertie Bott's Bean,
and left were only thirteen."
Of course, it was Vincent Crabbe who thought about food even when it came to rhymes about potions. He had to admit, however, that up to now they were quite creative in doing those rhymes, and they all seemed to see their own mistakes when it came to potions. Neville having trouble with any potions because of his insecurity, Harry having troubles brewing because he, Severus, had made his potions classes a living hell, Pansy making mistakes because she was chatting with Millicent in front of her and Vincent – well, as it seemed thinking of food while brewing. Maybe he should provide the boy with something to eat before potions?
"Thirteen little potions students,
were gathering ingredients,
One took the wrong jar from the shelf,
and left were only twelve."
Yes, that did sound like Seamus, he mused, the boy not simply adding the ingredients in the wrong order but taking the wrong jars from the cupboard in the first place. At least they all seemed to enjoy their newest game and even Harry smiled, a fact that made him happy somehow. The boy had little enough to smile about right now and if this rhyming made him happy, then be it, even if some of those rhymes were rater … forced into rhyming. But well, perhaps they all even learned something about it, as they seemed to really see their own mistakes when it came to brewing.
"Twelve little potions students,
were crushing on some leaves,
one dreamed a bit too much of heaven,
and left were just eleven."
Lavender Brown, definitely, yes! If there was a girl – hell, if there were any student that was dreaming as much as this particular girl, then he would resign. Honestly!
Harry leaned close to him, leaned with his back against his side while giving away a content sigh, and he draped his arm around the child's upper body, his lower arm resting above the child's thin and bony chest, pulling him close.
"Eleven little potions students,
were heating up their potions,
one that let fall in his pen,
and left were only ten."
"That might teach you to use your quill instead of a muggle pen in classes, Dean." Severus said, smirking at the boy. He remembered, and he knew that the boy indeed had let fall a pen into his potion once when he had been leaning over the cauldron, the pen slipping out of the pocket of his shirt. Aside from that it had been a pencil once, a rubber and a MP3-player. That one had actually gotten a very interesting reaction – not only from the potion that had exploded violently, but from the boy as well as this device had been very important to him, the boy ending up in detention for not only being so careless, but for cursing strongly as well.
"I can't write with a quill, sir." The boy argued, looking at him with a shaking of his head. "You wouldn't be able to read what I've written."
"Did no one ever show you how it is done properly?" He asked with a frown.
"Uhm … not really, no." The boy frowned at himself now.
"Minerva does not hold writing classes for the first year muggle born, or muggle raised students?" He asked, his voice incredulous now.
"No … not really:" Dean said, still frowning at him and Severus looked over at Harry, suddenly understanding the boy's messy handwriting. Harry, too, had never learned how to write with a quill – and neither had Seamus Finnigan, as it seemed, this boy's handwriting, too, drove him mad sometimes.
"We will have to remedy that." He said and it was clear that it was not a suggestion but an order. "The moment we are out of here, you – as well as Seamus, Harry and Ronald – will visit my office each Saturday morning for writing lessons until you have improved your handwriting." He then added, causing the mentioned boys to groan in frustration and he smirked.
"I'm not muggle born, or muggle raised." Ronald immediately protested.
"No, Mr. Weasley, but your handwriting is worse than that of a muggle born, or muggle raised student even." He answered back with a smirk still on his face.
"Why can't I just write with a pen?" Dean asked, rather unhappy.
"Because muggle items do not well together with potions – or transfiguration … or charms – with magic, actually, especially those muggle items that work with electricity, and it is a miracle that not more did happen already."
"Ten little potions students,
added a bit water,
one forgot to add the wine,
and left were only nine."
Yes, once again it had been an incident that really had happened, Tracy – obviously – thinking the wine on the list of ingredients he had written on the board had been a joke – as if he ever made jokes when it concerned potions – and not adding the glass of wine. Well, she hadn't been so wrong actually, as the confusing and befuddlement draught that required the glass of wine – aside from the lovage, sneezewort and scurvy-grass – indeed had been invented from a few Potions Masters that had been not really sober anymore and out of a joke. And yet – the wine in the potion was part of it and so it had been listed.
"Nine little potions students,
were stirring 'round a cauldron,
one forgot to stir once right,
and left were only eight."
Again, it was correct, Daphne mostly having problems with the stirring. Her potions were nearly perfect for the most time, a sign that the ingredients – all of them – had been added in the correct order, and only the slightly wrong colour of the potion proof of incorrect stirring, missing one or two right stirs – or left stirs – between.
"Eight little potions students,
were careful with their steps,
one did miss a tiny event,
and left were only seven."
"Not quite a rhyme Ronald, but correct nevertheless." Severus fixed the red haired boy with his dark eyes. "You definitely know where your mistake lies, so you should be able to prevent it in future."
"I just can't remember which step I have completed and then I'm mixing them up." The boy quietly said, averting his eyes.
Weasley had changed, he had to admit that. The boisterous boy had become rather silent, often thinking, watching Harry, Draco, Theodore and Neville, as if he wanted being a part of the quad.
"Then perhaps, in future, you should copy the formula from your book before potions classes, Ronald, as I always announce the potion that will be brewed in the next class – because I expect you reading through the next chapter so you can be prepared for my class. That way you will be able to cross out each step you have completed already."
"Yes, sir." The boy mumbled. "I'll do that."
"See that you do, Ronald." He nodded at the boy.
He didn't quite like the downcast behaviour the boy showed for the past few days, it was not Weasley's way acting like a shy and silent child, it was neither Weasleys' way. The Weasleys were loud and boisterous, all of them, and especially Ronald and the twins. Even if he had to admit that the twins could be very quiet if they wished to. But Ronald Weasley? Well, he guessed that as the youngest boy in the rather large family, he had to be loud and boisterous to get enough attention from their parents that had all their hands full with his older brothers – and the youngest and only girl in the family.
"Seven little potions students,
had troubles with the moonstone,
one took the moonstone as a mix,
and left were only six."
Again – definitely a Patil. Parvati as well as her sister Padma having troubles with preparing some ingredients and using already prepared mixes – what did not mess up their potions but got them a mark down as he expected his students to actually prepare their own ingredients instead of using the already prepared mixes.
"Six little potions students,
were cutting on some roots,
one held wrong his sharpened knife,
and left were only five."
Watching Theodore closely he lowered his head to one side. He knew exactly why Theodore held his knife the wrong way, but he had not thought that the boy would admit this here in front of the class where the others might ask questions. He had rather thought that Theodore might comment on his – ability – to add the ingredients in the wrong order, but not this. He looked over at Harry for a moment, knowing that Harry, too, held the knife in a strange way, even if he handled the knife more securely and more skilled than any of his seventh year students would ever do. Not so Theodore, the boy often cutting his fingers in the attempt to cut the ingredients while barely daring to touch the knife.
Well, Harry was already beyond those experiences, he thought for a moment, all the tiny scars on his fingers proof of how often he had cut his fingers while using a knife to cook for his relatives, but it seemed a long time ago, and he had learned out of it, it seemed.
"Five little potions students,
were mixing on some powders,
one mistook the salt for flour,
and left were only four."
Frowning he looked over at the girl.
"I do not remember a potion in which you would need flour, Millicent." He said.
"No, but once I wanted to bake a cake for mum, and I accidentally took salt instead of floor." The girl answered. "Of course, it was a rather slobbery mess instead of a cake in the end, but mum said we could eat it nevertheless, we only had to use spoons. Well, she did, and her face was really funny after tasting the – well, cake, which held about 250 grams of salt."
"I can imagine." Severus gave away a long suffering sigh while the other children laughed at the imagination.
"And well – I do mistake ingredients that look similar." The girl shrugged.
"What in future will cause you to look closely and maybe to test the ingredient before you use it – within reason however, as some of them are poisonous if used separately. If need be – ask."
"Four little potions students,
were stirring five times left,
one of them that had to pee,
and left were only three."
"You are not serious about that, Blaise." Severus frowned, but at the blush that crossed the boy's face he knew – the teen was serious about it, and if he thought about it, then he noticed that the boy was the one student that used the toilet the most since they were down here, even getting up at least three or four times during the night to use the toilet.
"We will have a serious conversation about trusting and informing your head of house of any maladies, diseases or other troubles." He growled, piercing the boy with a sharp look. "You, as a student of my house should know very well to not keep such information from me. Before you go to bed tonight, you will come to me so I might provide you with a potion that will help, and the moment we are out of here and able to run diagnostics I will do just that. Idiot child! We could have found a solution years ago!"
"Yes, sir." Came the soft reply, the boy hanging his head.
He wasn't really angry at him. There were more than just this one student in his house that – despite his threat of punishment if they hid their troubles from him – did just that. And upon finding out he worked on a solution and then – and just then – gave them detention or an essay to write, mostly about trust, playing with their own health, or disobeying his orders, regarding on what exactly had caused their disobedience on this particular rule.
And in Blaise's case – it had been simple thoughtlessness, he knew. So, he would have him in detention as soon as they were out of here and the children – all of them – were better, were healthier, had had some sleep and food, and fresh air and sunlight.
Which they, perhaps, would never have, he thought with another sigh.
"Three little potions students,
were reading in their books,
one had not the slightest clue,
and left were only two."
He wasn't sure if Gregory was going on to safe Blaise from further threats or if he just went on because he had thought of a rhyme himself, but the boy did and again it fit the situation, as Gregory never had any clue when it came to potions and again Severus Snape let out a long and suffering sigh at the thought that there were actually some students in his – in his house, that were as idiotic when it came to potions as were some …
Alright, this wasn't fair. He already had realized that Neville and Harry had troubles in his class with a reason.
"Two little potions students,
were turning down the heat,
one thought of those that were now gone,
and left was only one."
Leave it to Hermione to be so Gryffindor and to suffer over her missing friends to a point where even she would mess up with a potion, he huffed, and he looked down at one of her friends that – right now – was leaning against his side. Sleeping. Harry had fallen asleep at one point or another while all of them had done their rhymes, and he smiled.
If he liked it or not, but he had to admit – at least to himself – that, yes, it felt good having the child leaning against his side, seeking a bit of comfort, cradling his arm he had draped over the boy's chest to hold him close in his arms. If only he got his arm back later.
"One little potions student,
felt so very lonely,
so, it called back the others keen,
and left were once more fourteen."
"Why would you want all those imbeciles back, Mr. Malfoy?" He asked with a scowl, knowing that the Malfoy heir liked working alone rather than in a group.
"I've grown close to them over the days, uncle Severus." The blond shrugged.
"Have you now?" He asked, lifting his eyebrow and with a smirk he watched them all for a moment. "Well, in this case –
One little potions student,
The last one in the classroom,
The Master asked what they had done,
And then there were left – none."
Smirking he looked back at Draco who rolled his eyes before leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs in front of him.
There weren't many chairs left, barely enough for all of them to sit down at the table and most of them simply stayed at the mattresses. They had burned the chairs, one by one, as they had burnt the desks and even parts of the shelves. Those who had held the books that now were stacked on the floor beside the shelves that held ingredients.
So – there were only the two tables left they had put together, and his desk, and there were only eight chairs left around their table and the one behind his desk. Nothing else and the classroom looked nearly bare. Soon there wouldn't be any wood left at all, at least if he still would manage chipping the remaining furniture with the small hand axe he kept in his private store room, Snape realized and he carded his hand through Harry's hair, knowing that it would get really cold then, knowing that October was nearing and with it cold nights down here in the dungeons.
And yet – this wasn't their main problem. Because still there was nothing else left either, no food, not enough potions or potions ingredients to brew what they needed and the only thing they had plenty of, was water. And that wouldn't be enough in the long run, that alone would not keep them alive, he knew. So – in the end, they most likely would not survive long enough to die of the freezing temperatures down here anyway, they would die of lack of food long before that.
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
To be continued
Next time in "twenty-one days"
this is the end
Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you
also, like on ff, I'll install the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get a point. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …
House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:
Slytherin 85
Gryffindor 44
Ravenclaw 27
Hufflepuff 14
Hogwarts 21
Durmstrang 04
Tennessee Institute of Magic & Technomancy 01
