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This is how it starts.
Say you’ve had a bad dream, blood rushing in your ears, dementors hovering overhead. Of course, it doesn’t really matter what it was about. But just say –
Say that Lily’s lying dead and cold. Not Lily Potter, polluted by another man's seed – but Lily Evans at 10, before you could imagine doing anything to her, aside from carrying her books for her, and holding out doors for her, and telling her all about magic. Say there’s blood at her crushed temple, dribbling out slowly but inexorably, and somehow, it’s your fault. Except…
You’re no boy, but a grown man, a dark wizard, of 20. 'The nastiest little worm we’ve dealt with in a while', said the Warlock.
And somehow, nonsensically, you know you at 20 is the reason that that tiny girl’s lying dead. She’s an innocent, a Cruciatus victim, a muggle-hunt casualty, and still your best friend, somehow combined into a single, incongruous, but at this moment utterly convincing whole.
And say that you can hear a voice, coming from afar. But why should it matter what anyone else says, when Lily, sweet, blameless Lily, is dead?
‘On your feet, Snape. Stand for inspection. Hands on your head and facing the door’.
I can’t turn away, there’s blood on the wall.
‘Last warning. Get up. And do as instructed’.
‘But all I can see is the blood on the wall’.
‘I didn’t say talk. I said fucking inspection!’
‘Insubordination and cheek. Duly noted’.
The magic hits, and your clothes suddenly vanish. Your hands make their way up to rest on your head. Your back straightens, your legs spread apart. Beneath your feet, the floor is damp and filthy.
‘It’s an interesting fact that the curse you just used is a sub-segment of the Imperius Curse. Dissect the parts, disassemble the spell, and suddenly it’s no longer illegal, but clever’.
‘What in the fuck?’
Did I…say that out loud?
‘Cheek twice, now, Snape. You know what that means’.
‘…do I know? Have I done it before?’
‘And again. Fucking hell. He clearly wants more’.
No I don’t. I was fine, without you in here, you absolute morons. Just leave me alone.
…more of what?
‘Eyes front, Snape, and on me. See these?’
Oh, Merlin, yes. *Of course* I can see them…
‘Know how many you’ve earned?’
How many. A number. Arithmancy.
‘Three’.
‘Very good Snape. So now will you show us some more of your smarts? Look at these and tell me how they work’.
‘They’re punishment shackles, enchanted to burn. Without leaving marks’.
‘And when do you get them?’
‘When you speak out of turn’.
‘And how long?’
‘for 12 hours each’.
Oh, sweet Merlin. Now I’m here. Now I’ve caught up. *12 hours*.
That’s the last thing you think as they enter the cell. When clamp your left hand, your left leg, and your right leg to the wall with the shackles that never stop burning…
The only good part is – you’re no longer standing.
You huddle backwards in a ball, on the floor, against the wall. You can’t move. You can’t think…
‘Insubordination, Taylor. What do we do?’
Sweet Merlin, no. I didn’t even refuse…
Head backwards, mouth open, clamp in, tube down.
‘There now. Good boy’.
I’d rather just look at the bricks in the wall…
‘Well, what have we got. Soup, right?’
‘Looks a bit like sick, though…’
‘Yeah, well. Plenty of fluids. You know what they tell us…’
Fourty-two, fourty-three, fourty-four, fourty-five…
Yes, I *know* I’m not going to get out alive.
‘Hey, Professor?’
Don’t answer.
’Professor?’
Don’t move.
Please. Just tell me what you want from me. How am I to do as I am told if you won’t *say*…
You hear a frustrated sigh. That’s not good.
‘Hey, look at me’.
Yes, sir.
Green eyes. Short, messy hair.
‘Weren’t you just here?’
Strike 1. Cheek. You really need to remember to stop doing that…
A rueful smile. ‘Yeah. I have been, for a while now’.
...
Another sigh. ‘Professor? Do you know where you are?’
...
No.
Ohgod.
No.
‘Oh… I see. Hey hey, it’s ok then. Just drink this. It’ll…knock you out, ok? Until we can figure out what’s going on’.
Oh thank Merlin.
‘Thank you, sir’.
‘…my name’s Harry, Professor’.
…
‘Lily’s son?’
‘Yeah. You remember? That’s great. Well done, sir’.
‘What?’
‘I mean…er. Just go to sleep. You’ll be better soon’.
…
‘This seems nice. But you aren't supposed to be in here on your own, are you. Where are the others?’
‘They’re not here, Professor. They’re not coming back’.
‘What?’
‘It’s er…just us. You’re safe here. I promise’.
The room starts to waver. The lights start to blur.
‘Don’t leave me’.
‘Nah, ‘course I won’t. Sleep well, sir’.
‘You seem like a good boy. I like you’.
…
‘Thanks sir. That means a lot. Really.’
And then you’re gone. Yet again.