Chapter Five: The Storm
"Rowan, sweetie, you have to get up now," said my mom's voice, gentle and melodic. "It's going to be okay. I promise you. You have more power than you know. Please don't give up yet, darling. You will find a way. Use your strength, Rowan. Use your strength…"
"Mom?" I groaned, feeling very dazed. When I opened my eyes, I came to the dispiriting realization that my mom was not really at my side. I had not joined her in the afterlife. And what was equally disappointing was the instant recognition of the sight I'd woken up to. I was back in Arawn's basement. Back in the confinement of the cell. My tongue felt thick as I tried to blink away the tears that teetered at my lashes.
The aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse left me feeling weaker than ever as I strained myself upright. My muscles were tight and tender, my forehead throbbing with a searing headache that made me sway on my feet while I reestablished my equilibrium. Most painful of all though was the knife that was still firmly lodged in my heart from Snape's betrayal, and I found myself wishing for what may have been the thousandth time that my uncle would have followed through on his threat to murder me.
Each of my steps was shaky and careful as I ambled over to collect a fresh offering of food. Why were they so determined to keep me alive just barely? Surely it would have been much easier to simply get rid of me. Still, my insides ached for sustenance, and a hunger strike would have served little purpose other than adding to my own misery.
Once again, the small tan package contained nothing more than a rather ungenerous supply of fruit and saltines that stung my dry, cracking lips when I bit into them. By the time I had swallowed the last of a third cracker, my uncle materialized in the frame of the doorway. His black hood was drawn up, causing a mask-like shadow to obscure his eyes, and his lips screwed into a frown as he entered the cell. I guessed he had been hoping to find me dead on the cot. I ignored him, thoughtfully breaking off pinches of the cracker between my index finger and thumb and trying to hide the fact that my joints were shaking uncontrollably. I slowly considered each nibble rather than give him the satisfaction of my suffering, though even he was unaware of just how deeply it was rooted.
"It seems that, for the time being, I have been instructed to keep you alive," he said testily, clamping his teeth together. "Your alliance with Potter has spared you. Evidently, the Dark Lord believes you may be of some use to us yet."
"You really ought to just kill me now then," I said with a shrug, making an exaggerated display of chewing and swallowing the last bite before looking him square in the face. "I'm not going to help you."
"I would gladly, if the Dark Lord permitted it. But make no mistake, niece," Arawn said, his tone glacial. "The instant he gives the word… the instant he decides that you have outlived your usefulness… I will put an end to your pathetic existence. Fortunately, he did not specify how much alive I must keep you, only that I am to put forth my very best efforts in encouraging your compliance." His threatening smile was overflowing with eagerness as he drew his wand, igniting the tip with a flick and edging his way towards me.
"No! Stay away!" I panted, false bravado vanishing as I backed away into a corner so forcefully it was as though I hoped to meld into it and disappear. Unable to do anything else, I balled my fist and threw a punch into the hollow of his sallow-skinned cheek, sending him staggering backwards so that his hood fell to his shoulders. His face became a shade of purple which rivaled that of an overripe eggplant.
Arawn let out a savage noise of outrage, and, with one enormous hand, grabbed me by the throat. I gagged and thrashed as he threw me out of the corner and down to the very solid floor. Stars danced in between us when my head met the concrete. I screamed and clawed at him until he restrained one of my hands with his and raised up his wand, which was buzzing and fizzing with energy. He pressed a knee into my shoulder and the other into my stomach, pinning me supine, and I felt my collarbone crack and my intestines contract and cramp and distort.
"Give me valuable information to bring to the Dark Lord and I may consider requesting permission to put you out of your misery," he said, licking his lips as he touched the tip of his sparking wand to the nape of my neck. Excruciating jolts of electricity pulsated through my body. Tears poured from my eyes into my hair as I spasmed with the current, and over and over my howls of pain echoed through the chamber, until, eventually, my skin and bones and spirit crumbled apart. It seemed to go on forever. When he finally left me alone in the cell, sprawled and dangling on comatose, I was too far gone to pick myself up again.
Over the next several days, Arawn returned at regular intervals, always eager and beaming with elation. It was clear that, beyond trying to get me to talk, he relished in discovering new and innovative ways to cause me pain. He was sick and twisted, and I could not comprehend how he and my mother could have possibly shared blood. Nevertheless, I managed to stay firm for the sake of my friends – refusing to give him any information I had regarding Harry (which would have been fabricated anyway, probably earning me even greater forms of punishment) and denying his command to write to Harry and trick him into responding.
As the days bled on, my resolve broke alongside my body. And although I never relented in betraying Harry, I had given up on nearly everything else – on trying to rebuild my strength… on standing up for myself and fighting back… on holding onto any hope that I would somehow survive this in the end…
I'd always found the sounds of a thunderstorm soothing. The impulsive rumbles that sometimes intensified to a peak so mighty they shook the ground under your feet… the patter of steady rain droplets lashing against the windows and walls and roofs. Not opposites but complements, ebbing and flowing together to create harmony. Most of the time, the noises from outside my cell could not penetrate the concrete walls surrounding me, but the skies must have been angry tonight, and would not go unheard. It relaxed me a bit, a welcome change in the monotony, and as I closed my eyes and fixated on the melody I could almost imagine being at home in the Gryffindor common room, so warm and comforting. The booms came in rapid succession, one after another after another.
CRACK! The sound blended with the thunder, and I had been so caught up in my daydream that I didn't realize it had actually come from within the cell this time.
"Get up! Now!" said a deep voice in a pointed whisper. A strong hand gripped me by the arm, shaking me into my senses. I startled, sitting bolt upright.
"Wha…" I gasped as I registered my cell's newest inhabitant, and instantly shrank myself into the corner of the cot against the wall. A pair of piercingly black eyes found mine in the dimness. "No! Go away!" I yelped, guarding myself with my arms. He was here to take me to Voldemort, or to torture me more so I would help them find Harry, or… I could not quiet the fearful thoughts that raided my mind.
Snape's finger shot to his lips warningly. "Shh… it's alright…" he reached out his hand and I recoiled, hiding my face in my knees as my heart hammered very fast. I was shivering with terror. I couldn't take any more torture; any more betrayal.
"No… please don't… please don't hurt me anymore…" my feeble voice trembled and broke as he leaned over the cot and, in a singular swift motion, wrapped me in his arms and pulled me into the warmth of his chest. I shoved my hands against him, wriggling and jerking like a rabid dog to free myself, but he held tight. My efforts to resist him detonated fresh pain from the bruises and burns and cuts and breaks that Arawn had branded me with. "Let go, please, let go!"
"Calm yourself down. Stop it, now. Rowan, please… stop." My name carried by the deep timbre of his voice gave me pause, my muscles calming briefly. He brought his lips to my ear. "I will not hurt you. I would have come for you sooner if it had been possible. But we must hurry. You have to trust me. I promise, I will keep you safe now," he whispered.
Trust? How could I trust anything anymore?
"Please, Rowan," he said, his words outlined in sorrow.
Something like hope flickered inside me at his tone; something that wanted so desperately to believe in him. I'd searched and trekked and put myself through hell to find this man… daydreamed about him coming to my rescue… and now, here he was, encircling me in the heat of his body, pleading with me to trust him one more time.
Slowly, cautiously, I raised my head from my hands and looked straight into his dark eyes. I instantly found the place within him that only my eyes could reach; a place brimming with pain and desperation and vulnerability. And, just like that, he pulled my soul from the trenches. Intense relief washed over me in the same way the sea overtakes the sand – in a single, powerful wave. I uncoiled my limbs and let myself curl into him, the sobs now coming in ferocious swells as I clung on to him so tightly it was as though I would fall through the floor if I dared to let go. He felt so vibrantly alive in my arms, so solid and steady.
"We are going somewhere safe. Don't let go," he said in a low voice.
"Never," I choked, clutching fistfuls of his smooth cloak tightly in each hand, and with another CRACK I was knotted and squeezed and yanked through space… away from the musty basement… away from my uncle… and into the fortress of Severus Snape's embrace.