Title: Through it all
By: Zees Muse
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters – Severus Snape, et al a bunch of dead people
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Her! Wish she had taken better care of her characters! I’m simply trying to correct what she didn’t have the guts to finish! So no, I won’t be giving him back. She doesn’t deserve him!
Also – Major serious spoilers. If you’ve not read Deathly Hallows, this will wreck it for you!
Rating: PG for mild language.
Originally Posted – July 2007
‘Lumos’ by Leanin
Through it all, he never lost the feeling in his feet.
That was probably a good thing, Severus thought, his body rapidly becoming paralyzed,
as it should
his mind racing on what to do next. Funny, one plans their *death* as long as he had and now that the moment had arrived, all of his thoughts came bounding in, muddying the waters. Potter’s brat being there was the icing on the cake. He was now released from this damnable vow. The boy wonder had all the information he needed.
And then some.
He closed his eyes when it became quiet. Staring into space was damned difficult. No one should think much if they came upon him; he was supposed to be dead, after all. Dead people kept their eyes closed. So, he waited, waited for the feeling to slowly return to his legs, up his torso, his arms. Severus spent the time congratulating himself, no one else would, having the forethought to imbibe small amounts of serums, potions, over time, to make him immune, to be able to combat many things; including Nagini’s damnable venom.
Never knew it would work… never a guarantee…
No, never knew, but there was hope, and Severus knew all about hope and how it dashed dreams and lied, oh how it lied to you.
Laughter almost bubbled up and it took all of Severus’ control to keep it from spilling forth. I can stopper death and brew glory. Old Voldie forgot about that, the very reason why he wanted me in the first place; he forgot what I could do and have done.
He could feel his feet and torso now. Gently, in case, he flexed his fingers. Not quite, but coming along nicely.
There was a sound, to his left, someone coming through the room, making much noise. Severus steeled himself, waited for the inevitable. The person tripped over his leg, Severus doing everything to keep from wincing, to show no movement.
“Damn him!” He didn’t recognize the voice, couldn’t place it. There was a resounding kick to his shin and again, Severus showed total control in not moving. “Hated that bastard, anyway!”
Ah. Former student.
When it was quiet again, he opened his eyes and looked around, quick to make note of any movement.
There was nothing. Nothing but the noise coming from Hogwarts. War was not silent.
Hurry… hurry… damn you…
Regardless of the outcome, he had no intention of being here when anyone decided to return.
His fingers moved, his arms tingling. Slowly he worked them, his body, all of it asleep, the smell of blood, his blood everywhere, the metal stench of it almost gagging.
Nagini had been too easy. Voldemort had been too easy. The monster had become predictable. Despite watching, he felt Voldemort attempting to enter his mind, the madman not only wanting to watch death, but experience it.
He allowed him to see five bites, not the one he actually received.
The moment his arms were free, his hand delved into the pocket, the deep one and grasped the vial he knew by feel, by shape. Moving caused pain, sweet, blessed, invigorating pain and he moaned in spite of himself. Again, he perused the room from this loathsome position and noting no one there, pulled the vial from his pocket and tipped the contents in his mouth.
He damn near gagged and spit it out.
Pain killer, blood clotter, venom antigen, antibiotic, a bit of firewhiskey for flavor…
For a short moment, he could feel his blood rushing through his veins and while it pained him, it was a good pain, a pain he reveled in and…
Enjoyed. He was enjoying this mad rush!
There was a resounding crash coming from Hogwarts. There wasn’t much time, not much time left…
Snape found his feet, unsteady at first, but he had no time to find his proper balance. Pulling his wand from its casing, he blasted the spot where he laid, all of it and then some, making it look as if whatever, or whoever had been there, had been obliterated.
Let them think that. It was what he wanted.
like a man out of his sick bed, bugger that and damnation
– he made his way through hidden passages, passages forgotten, tunnels never known to anyone but himself. Too long, he had scuttled like the rest of the beetles amongst the tree roots and foundations. Twice, those very foundations rocked, causing dirt and things to fall in his hair, his clothing. He entered the head master’s chambers surreptitiously, taking great pains to make sure the charms, the locks still held against any unwelcome who would enter. He grabbed his satchel, forgotten in a corner, shrinking it to his pocket, grabbing vials, vials, and more vials, potions made up in advance, rare herbs that would be hard, if not impossible to find, where he was going. Once, he thought he heard Molly Weasley calling someone a bitch, her voice echoing through the vents and cracks of the castle. The portraits on the wall were whispering, offering suggestions, suggestions and advice he ignored; after all, they knew the truth, knew who he was and what he had been. It was when he pulled the torn picture of Lily Evans,
that he heard the one voice he didn’t want to hear, what he never hoped to hear…
He never looked up, never stopped his chore. His time was so limited.
“Albus. I am in no mood.” He slung the drawer to the desk open, found several extra quills. He was now stuffing anything, to shut the portrait up.
“I would imagine you aren’t.”
There was a scream, a cheer…
Severus felt a blackness, cold tendrils of iciness remove itself from his body.
It is over…. he is dead…. dead… dead…
The cheering escalated…
“It appears Harry has won.”
Severus returned to his digging. His pockets were now filled to over-flow. It was time to leave.
“Severus.” The former Potions Master stopped in his tracks, turning only an ear to the portrait. “You don’t have to leave, Severus. Harry won.”
“Potter knows the truth,” Severus spat. “I emptied my memories for him.”
“Then more the reason to stay-“
“Then more the reason to go!” Severus interrupted angrily. “I’ll not stay and be the Man who Loved His Mother. I’ll not be kept around as a reminder that I watched him for her sake. I’ll not be an albatross!” He turned to the portrait finally and held a finger up, to stop the rebuke he knew was coming. “I have paid my debt to her, just as I have paid my debt to you. I am free of that old tart and I will be free of Potter and of you. There is a life out there and I am going to find it.” He headed back to the secret passage, hidden in the bookcases.
“Severus. He will want a memorial, a portrait-“
No no and hell no
“- it would be against my wishes.”
Again, Snape turned, his finger in the air as if he thought of a splendid plan. “Tell him to name his second male spawn after me. Middle name. That would be fitting.”
Damn, would the old man ever shut up?
“Will you visit Lily’s grave before you leave?”
Her husband will want to thank me profusely. I could not bear that.
“Do you have money?” That brought him up short. “In America, in Boise Idaho,”
Severus made a face. Boise? BOISE?
“- there is a Wizarding Bank. Go to Greeley’s Bookstore on the East side and ask for Mardel. Tell them you are the heir of Percival Doredump. There will be instructions and I think you will find more than enough to suit your needs. Look behind Nigellus’s portrait. All the papers and identification you will need are there.” He waited for Severus to remove the hidden envelope. “Severus-“
“I must go. I do not want to be here nor do I want to be found.” He looked around the office, that which had been his for such a short time, for one last time, taking in everything, everything he was, everything he had been for over 20 years.
Leaving it… leaving it… you always said you would… never again…
“Severus? What are you going to do?”
Finally, a smile, one that wasn’t a sneer, or filled with loathing. A true smile. He pulled the passage door back and stepped into the dark tunnel.
“Why Albus, I am going to the beach!” He saluted before bringing the door closed and making his way to a quiet corner of the woods.
And as fireworks and other such joyous displays when off, lighting the castle and the grounds, a lone, dark figure disappeared in the dark, like a whisper for one last time.