He was still thirteen, but not for long.
Feeling uncomfortable. Out of place and surrounded by glamour and riches. He had found himself at a posh Yule ball party. Dressed in borrowed robes. The silky wool caressing his skin. He knew he didn't belong here, didn't feel like he belonged anywhere.
Sticking his chin out, squaring his shoulders, he was still grateful. Grateful to his mother for teaching him Occlumency, after he almost had an outburst of wild magic from his father's attack last summer, she had taken her time to teach him. He was talented, naturally because, according to some; Occulumency was not an easy skill to master, but it was a most useful one to have.
There he was, standing in a secluded corner, present yet removed from the crowd. Lucius had spotted him and approached with a tall dark man, a pleasant smile on his face as he neared.
"Severus! Why are you hiding? Let me introduce you to a family friend." He turned to the man. "This is Igor Karkaroff, a professor at Durmstrang Institute. Igor, this is my protégé, a very talented young man – Severus Snape, future Lord Prince."
"Lucius!" He greeted, feeling himself blushing at the admiration. "Pleasure to meet you, Sir." He bowed politely to the dark man.
"Future Lord Prince? As far as I know, the Prince line will die out with the last and quite elderly Lord."
"My mother was disowned, erased from the family tapestry, Sir."
"Ah. Well, in that case, the pleasure is all mine, Lord Prince." The man replied, returning the bow.
"Please, Sir. Severus will suffice. I did not claim my title yet."
"I will respect your wish Severus, as long as you show me the courtesy of returning the favour by calling me by my name, Igor."
"I am honoured." He bowed again, hating every second of this false conversation.
Karkakoff nodded and strolled away, turning to the blonde who leaned against the wall nonchalant as ever, amused in fact.
"I wish that you could stop doing that, Lucius."
"Nonsense, Severus! Once your uncle dies, you will be Lord Prince. The family may decide one, but last living relative is blood and that is the only thing you need."
"I would prefer if you stuck to my skills instead of my future title."
"Now, now, Severus, this is nothing to be ashamed of. You are of the old bloodline, it is something to be proud of." Lucius peers at him "You do not look like you have fun."
"I am, but I will have to return to school soon."
"Don't tell me you are still pinning for that little mudblood of yours?" Lucius ignored him, he held his face impassive as much as he could.
"If you mean Lily, yes."
"She, my friend, is not good for you. Pursue her, kiss her if you must…bed her…get her out of your system. And then, we will find you a nice and decent pureblood, or half-blood if you prefer, to settle with. One of good name and standing."
"I will see what can be done, Lucius. I really should be going now," he replied, hoping that his voice came across as neutral rather than angry because anger is what he was currently feeling. And yet he was angry at himself because he couldn't force himself to be angry at Lucius, not even after those cruelly harsh words.
Lucius had done so much for him. He'd introduced him to the society. And even if he always spoke with disdain about Lily, he made him feel appreciated and recognized. He hoped that Lucius would come around, same as Lily would once he managed to gain the power and respect owed.
Walking to the fireplace, he grabbed a handful of floo powder from the small cauldron and uttered the destination clearly. Arriving shortly thereafter at the Three Broomsticks.
He walked the path to the school alone, as usual. His heart crying out for her presence until he felt a curse hitting him. The pain. A malevolent cackle came from above his head. A female voice, annoyingly familiar.
"Did you think I would forget? Do you think you would get away with it, mongrel?" She taunted.
He scrambled to get his wand. He was stupid. Stupid to let his guard down. And he felt it, for the first time in his life. The pain of fraying nerves. His muscles twitching, constricting. Pain scorching. He gritted his teeth trying his hardest not to scream. Honestly, punches were nothing compared to this. He felt like he was being skinned alive. Pushing against the pain, he curled into a ball as darkness swallowed him.
The pain. Familiar pain, felt so many times in his life that he'd lost count. It was unbearable. It tore through him like an old adverssary. There were no more bones to break and no more flesh that could be mangled. There was only pain.
Hell. His hell.
Would he have to feel every single one he endured while he was alive? It will take an eternity just for that. Lucius, he heard his voice before. Was he here? No, he wasn't. He was alone, so hopelessly alone.
A Soft female voice. Was she here? Mocking him? Laughing at his misery?
~ S ~ S ~ S ~
Frantic from fear because something was most definitely happening, only she wasn't sure what. She watched the man like a hawk, Malfoy hadn't even touched the professor. And she definitely hadn't felt the presence of magic being cast. What had he done to the professor?
"Poppy! Poppy!" Her voice breaking, highly pitched with fear.
Watching, helpless, as the body in front of her began shaking. His limbs were twitching and it was so similar as to how someone would look if they were touching some high voltage cable. His mouth had opened in a silent pained scream, like in the old movies that depicited demonic posession. Arching his back, Snape slammed back down into the hospital bed.
"Poppy!"
"Why are you yelling, girl?" Matron entered the room, seeing for herself. "Oh dear."
"What's wrong with him Poppy? What did Malfoy do to him?"
She was silent, Looking over her patient with due care and attention to detail. "Malfoy? Did he cast a spell?" Poppy enquired.
"No, I was watching him all the time. What is wrong?"
"Calm yourself down girl! Watch carefully, what do you think it's going on."
She took a long, steadying breath and cast a glance at the bed. Her eyes were glued to her professor and his twitching limbs. Tears were filling her eyes and then she noticed it.
"Cruciatus. These are post-cruciatus tremors. But none cast the spell." She said, anxiety creeping into the pit of her stomach.
"The mind is a funny thing, dear. Oh dear, help me…"
"I can manage it, now that I know what is it."
"Are you sure?" Poppy asked.
"Absolutely positive." She said, nodding. Watching from the corner of her eye as the Matron leaves them alone again.
She couldn't understand, why he looked like this. Why he was deteriorating in front of her eyes. Sure, she knew that he was terribly underweight and frail when they brought him in. He was just skin, bone and a small amount of muscle that barely defined him. The dark circles under his eyes were almost as noticeable as his prominent cheekbones, all made horrifically worse by his emaciated state.
What kind of evil magic was working now? His shoulders had tilted back to the mattress, while skeletal hands grabbed the sheets, fisting them tightly as tremors continued to shake his form.
"No, no, no. Don't harm yourself, professor." She pleaded.
But she knew, from her own experience, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Not even if he could hear her, not even if he wanted to. His body bucked off the bed and she tried in vain to press him back with her hands. Remarkably, for someone who was only skin and bones, he was deceptively strong in his malaise. He would have fallen off the bed if she didn't do something, and fast.
In desperation, she threw herself over him, praying she wouldn't break any of his bones. Specifically, the ones that were sticking from his skin at disturbingly sharp angles.
This was one anatomy lesson she didn't want, not in this way. She pressed his head with hers, pushing his forehead down. Arms sliding down his. Fingers waved, his grip was strong and painful and she grit her teeth in response. Typically, her legs were shorter than his, but what surprised her was that didn't seem that tall and intimidating anymore. In her mind, he had always been as tall as a tower, but as her feet pressed his legs in the middle of his calves, his body shook beneath hers. She realised he wasn't so tall, like this.
Unconscious, lost, separated from his mind, or maybe too much in his mind. His tremors stopped, only to start again moments later.
How long was this going to last? She was so tired.
But he was strong and it took all that she had to pin him down, to hold him so he wouldn't injure himself. Because, honestly, if he got injured now, even the slightest he might not survive it. Hermione wanted to keep him out of harm's way because Snape had been under too much stress recently.
She wouldn't allow further harm.
And, she wasn't really caring all that much that Snape was a hero, it was additional motivation for sure, but not the reason behind her actions. It was just, he couldn't die, just. . .His death was not an option she was willing to discuss.
So tired, her strength was slowly slipping away. Sweat beading on her forehead, coating her body and soaking his skin with the fierce tremors fought. Tiredly, her head slipped from his and she hid her face in the pillow as the silkiness of his hair began tickling her nose and lips. She soon realised that she was sobbing in his ear.
"Please, please, professor. Calm down." She said, crying softly, not knowing why.
Suddenly, she became aware that he had stopped shaking. Cautiously, she raised her head and looked in his face for signs of anything. All she could see was the same dark circles, and his sunken eyes pulled into the sockets.
He was still at least, so still that she could feel the sharp contours of his body against hers.
All of him. All! Of! Him! Panic rose in her and she rolled over, as fast as she could without harming him in the process. Her tears fell on his face and she sighed, panicked, uncertain, ashamed, but relieved.
Still, his movements had faltered for the time being and he was barely alive, but he was breathing and for now, it was enough.