Be My Escape | By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3626 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, nor am I making any money off of it. It's called FANfiction because I DON'T own it, right? Right. Good that we're clear. |
II.
Severus picked up the wand he'd left beside the sink to
defog the mirror, shave, and dry his hair. His eyes were drawn to
the side of his neck where Nagini's bite should have killed him.
There wasn't a single mark on the flesh. It wasn't that he had
wanted to die, but he'd been ready to, and he felt somehow cheated
that he had nothing to show for his most noble act, not even a scar.
Dumbledore had been an exceptional wizard, after all.
Not perfect - he'd made his mistakes in life and not all of them
small, but they didn't really matter in the end. Severus had never
really thought of the man as a friend, but in retrospect, he supposed
he should have. The fact that he was standing here now, preparing
himself to welcome a new flood of students, and Dumbledore was not
seemed like a rather cruel joke.
And the fact that he was alive at all? Well, that had
been Albus Dumbledore's doing as well. He knew Snape better than the
man could have ever guessed. Knowing and trusting him so had been
the only thing that saved the potions master from an early grave.
Dumbldeore may not have been able to undo Voldemort's various curses,
but he found very creative, advanced magics that could work around
them. In Snape's case, he'd secretly added a manner of curse to his
person that Snape had never even noticed. It was so simple now, so
obvious, and Severus couldn't help but find himself awed by the man's
genius. To live you must give your life away. It was
virtually undetectable. Dumbledore knew what Severus had known –
that there was little to no chance he would survive spying on
Voldemort – but he also knew Severus Snape, and quite well, and
so he knew that when all was said and done, Severus would put Harry's
life, and the life of all of the students at Hogwarts, before his
own. It was only in sacrificing himself that he could be saved. He'd
played his part exactly as Dumbledore had intended, and now he found
himself staring at the bare flesh of his throat as if he half-wished
he hadn't.
He was alive. He should be grateful, but the bitterness
hadn't left him. The loneliness still stung. The only person he had
ever loved was still dead. And he still found himself teaching at
this bloody institution for the simple reason that he had not yet
found a good reason not to. He loved Hogwarts. That had
never been up for debate, but in coming back from the dead he
realized he loved it in the way a person loves a favored childhood
toy – it was precious to him and always would be, but he had
outgrown it. The longer he spent pacing its halls, the more it
seemed to stagnate. Without Albus, Hogwarts just wasn't the same.
Minerva made a splendid headmistress, but she often
lacked Dumbledore's jovial wit. It had been one of the wizard's more
infuriating qualities, but Severus found he missed it terribly.
He turned back to his reflection and combed his hair as
neatly as possible (though he was never quite satisfied with how it
ended up) and moved into the bedroom to pull on his robes, which he
had laid out on the bed. He would have his usual responsibilities as
head of house as well as responsibilities as deputy headmaster to
attend to this year. And on top of that, Minerva had only just
informed him over breakfast that Madam Hooch's position had been
given to a Weasley. He'd noted the youngest of the Weasley
troupe was Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain this year and expressed a
subtle degree of concern over the possible bias, but it had been
quickly and casually dismissed on the grounds that 'we are all
adults, surely we can behave in a professional manner.' He didn't
expect the argument to hold much water, but he'd had to try.
Severus gave himself a final once over in the floor
length mirror before heading toward the castle gates to face the
madness that the beginning of term always brought. He didn't
consider it vanity (someone with his looks couldn't possibly be vain,
as far as he was concerned), but an effort to put his best foot
forward. Just because he should have died was really no excuse to
let himself go. He was a bit depressed, but that in and of itself
didn't make him suicidal. He was confident that getting back to his
normal routine after a summer of interviews, arguments, and repairs
to the castle would somehow be enough to pull him out of the
emotional funk he'd been stuck in since the final battle. It would
have to be; it was all he had.
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