Snape takes his afternoon meal alone, as is his custom while here. Ham BLT, champignon soupe and spiced cider. He has the feeling that his loved ones are having the same, and while that feeling gives him some comfort, the nourriture never tastes the same. It's never as good here, and lately, that difference is even plus evident. The House-elves are unhappy. He can't blame them. For a moment, he wonders what the House-elves will do when the time comes, but knowing Dobby, he thinks, they'll be right out there fighting with the rest of us. He stops in mid-sip and contemplates that thought. With the rest of us. But there isn't going to be an 'us', he knows. In his heart, he knows his path will take him out of the castle.
Slowly, he pushes his half-eaten meal aside, his stomach suddenly tight. He has thought about his own death before, he's always known he likely will not survive this war, but since meeting Elsbet, he's kept the thoughts as far from his mind as possible. Now, though, he can not help but think about it. What about Lucius? Oh, he knows in his cœur, coeur of hearts that the White Wizard will be with him, in the end. He wonders if they might face their deaths together...and what of Therion? Therion the Brown, he muses, and very nearly chuckles. Why does that sound familiar? And why does it sound right? He shakes his head just a bit and thinks about the fellow former Death Eater. He and his fellows...together, three former Death Eaters. Not quite what they seem, like the Rangers of Professor Tolkien's story...like the dream.
Closing his eyes, he sits back in the chair and brings his hands up, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. He places the tips of his fingers together, like a tent, in front of his face and thinks, just to amuse himself, about the History of Middle-Earth...where would they fit? Where would he fit? He turns his mind's eye deeper into himself and sifts through the detirius of old memories, faded hopes and half-formed fantasies, and finds something. He reflects upon it, and lets it fill him completely; it is as if he is meditating, and what he found becomes like a dream.
Snape sees himself...he sees himself dressed in black robes, but robes far finer than he wears now ou has worn before. His hair appears longer and fuller, and he seems...determined. He's searching for something in a thick forest. The Forbidden Forest? He can't quite tell. What is he searching for? He's carrying something, he can see...he is running, with a sword in his hand, but he can not tell what sword it is. He pushes himself to focus, and as he watches himself he sees...it is the Sword of Gryffindor, but how can it be? Only a worthy Gryffindor can take it...he sees himself balançoire, swing the blade and balançoire, swing it low; it is a blow intended to kill, but he can not see what he is fighting.
When did he first imagine this? Was it a dream that he filed away then forgot about? He's not sure, and he would certainly explore it further, but he has the disturbing feeling he's not alone in the sealed study. When he opens his eyes, he's even plus disturbed par what he sees. Peeves, so furious the chaotic little spirit looks about to combust. He's punching his open left hand with his tightly closed fist, and the temperature of the study had risen to an uncomfortable degree. Through clenched teeth he growls, "nasty, rotten Death Eaters have to learn NOT TO TOUCH THE ICKLE FIRSTIES!"
Snape is up and out of his chair before any of the portraits can say anything. He does not speak except to cast powerful protection spells behind him as he goes, and follows Peeves swiftly, silently out of the light and into the shadows of a corridor. It doesn't take them long to find what they're looking for and it takes Snape's well-ordered mind a moment to comprehend what he's seeing. A Death Eater, choking a small child...choking, rather than torturing, so that there are no screams to rouse any would-be rescuers. Snape doesn't hesitate.
"Sebring..." The Death Eater turns to see Snape, wand pointed directly at him, black eyes burning with a hatred so deep only a select few could possibly understand it. Before the Death Eater can speak, Snape turns his wrist and tells him, his voice low and even, "put the boy down." The Death Eater chuckles and tells Snape he must be joking. "Do I look like I am joking, Sebring?" The bald Death Eater frowns as he drops the little Ravenclaw as though the boy were no plus than dirty laundry. "He sassed me," Sebring says rather incredulously, "the little brat got mouthy with me, so I had to teach him a lesson--" Snape casts his spell silently, and as it hits Sebring, the Death Eater seems to be suspended at least an inch off of the floor, his wide eyes staring at the Headmaster in disbelief, for just a moment.
Sebring drops and Snape walks slowly over to the unconscious child and checks for a pulse. He's alive. Snape rises and stands over Sebring. "There is a difference between discipline and sadism," he says to the bewildered Death Eater, "and there are things I simply will not tolerate. You've discovered one of them." Snape studdies the Death Eater, who has begun to struggle for breath. He could stop his spell now and Obliviate Sebring's memory of the whole incident, but how does Snape know Sebring won't find an excuse to do worse to another child? His black eyes flick to the still boy, then back to the Death Eater. He goes back to the boy and kneels down, touches the boy's dark red hair, then takes the boy carefully into his arms.
Drawing in a deep breath, he opens the boy's blue-green eyes and stares deeply into them, and does for him what he has done for Elsbet in the past, when he's feared she's had too much Absinthe; he carefully checks the boy for any sign of brain damage. He finds none, and as Snape gives a sigh of relief, Sebring breathes his last. "New spell, Professorprotectorness?" Peeves asks and Snape réponses absently, "no, an old one I have...refined." He lifts the boy carefully, knowing he has allies nearby. He walks swiftly to the end of the dark corridor and finds them comming to a stop just around the corner. He's surprised, though of course it doesn't show. He's pleased as well, but that doesn't montrer either.
Luna and Draco.
Snape wants to ask about the girl, but he sees Draco is wearing something yellow and black around his neck; it's just a little braided cord, perhaps she took it from her scarf and made it for him...he sees a slight coloring to Draco's cheeks, and suddenly feels the very slight brush of Luna's mind. Hilda is doing very well, Professor, she thinks dreamily, and Snape glances at her in acknowledgement. He carefully places the boy in Draco's arms, then thinks, Miss Lovegood, I trust toi recall the potion I showed you, and she smiles. Snape watches them disappear into the gloom of the corridor, then turns back to the dead Sebring. "That's two," Peeves hisses, and Snape raises his wand. Expertly, he transfigures the dead Death Eater's body into an innocent-looking little figurine, which Peeves quickly picks up and stuffs into a pocket.
Snape looks up at the chaotic little spirit, and that amazingly loyal chaotic little spirit looks down at Snape. After a moment, they nod to each other, then silently go their separate ways, as if nothing unusual has happened.
Slowly, he pushes his half-eaten meal aside, his stomach suddenly tight. He has thought about his own death before, he's always known he likely will not survive this war, but since meeting Elsbet, he's kept the thoughts as far from his mind as possible. Now, though, he can not help but think about it. What about Lucius? Oh, he knows in his cœur, coeur of hearts that the White Wizard will be with him, in the end. He wonders if they might face their deaths together...and what of Therion? Therion the Brown, he muses, and very nearly chuckles. Why does that sound familiar? And why does it sound right? He shakes his head just a bit and thinks about the fellow former Death Eater. He and his fellows...together, three former Death Eaters. Not quite what they seem, like the Rangers of Professor Tolkien's story...like the dream.
Closing his eyes, he sits back in the chair and brings his hands up, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. He places the tips of his fingers together, like a tent, in front of his face and thinks, just to amuse himself, about the History of Middle-Earth...where would they fit? Where would he fit? He turns his mind's eye deeper into himself and sifts through the detirius of old memories, faded hopes and half-formed fantasies, and finds something. He reflects upon it, and lets it fill him completely; it is as if he is meditating, and what he found becomes like a dream.
Snape sees himself...he sees himself dressed in black robes, but robes far finer than he wears now ou has worn before. His hair appears longer and fuller, and he seems...determined. He's searching for something in a thick forest. The Forbidden Forest? He can't quite tell. What is he searching for? He's carrying something, he can see...he is running, with a sword in his hand, but he can not tell what sword it is. He pushes himself to focus, and as he watches himself he sees...it is the Sword of Gryffindor, but how can it be? Only a worthy Gryffindor can take it...he sees himself balançoire, swing the blade and balançoire, swing it low; it is a blow intended to kill, but he can not see what he is fighting.
When did he first imagine this? Was it a dream that he filed away then forgot about? He's not sure, and he would certainly explore it further, but he has the disturbing feeling he's not alone in the sealed study. When he opens his eyes, he's even plus disturbed par what he sees. Peeves, so furious the chaotic little spirit looks about to combust. He's punching his open left hand with his tightly closed fist, and the temperature of the study had risen to an uncomfortable degree. Through clenched teeth he growls, "nasty, rotten Death Eaters have to learn NOT TO TOUCH THE ICKLE FIRSTIES!"
Snape is up and out of his chair before any of the portraits can say anything. He does not speak except to cast powerful protection spells behind him as he goes, and follows Peeves swiftly, silently out of the light and into the shadows of a corridor. It doesn't take them long to find what they're looking for and it takes Snape's well-ordered mind a moment to comprehend what he's seeing. A Death Eater, choking a small child...choking, rather than torturing, so that there are no screams to rouse any would-be rescuers. Snape doesn't hesitate.
"Sebring..." The Death Eater turns to see Snape, wand pointed directly at him, black eyes burning with a hatred so deep only a select few could possibly understand it. Before the Death Eater can speak, Snape turns his wrist and tells him, his voice low and even, "put the boy down." The Death Eater chuckles and tells Snape he must be joking. "Do I look like I am joking, Sebring?" The bald Death Eater frowns as he drops the little Ravenclaw as though the boy were no plus than dirty laundry. "He sassed me," Sebring says rather incredulously, "the little brat got mouthy with me, so I had to teach him a lesson--" Snape casts his spell silently, and as it hits Sebring, the Death Eater seems to be suspended at least an inch off of the floor, his wide eyes staring at the Headmaster in disbelief, for just a moment.
Sebring drops and Snape walks slowly over to the unconscious child and checks for a pulse. He's alive. Snape rises and stands over Sebring. "There is a difference between discipline and sadism," he says to the bewildered Death Eater, "and there are things I simply will not tolerate. You've discovered one of them." Snape studdies the Death Eater, who has begun to struggle for breath. He could stop his spell now and Obliviate Sebring's memory of the whole incident, but how does Snape know Sebring won't find an excuse to do worse to another child? His black eyes flick to the still boy, then back to the Death Eater. He goes back to the boy and kneels down, touches the boy's dark red hair, then takes the boy carefully into his arms.
Drawing in a deep breath, he opens the boy's blue-green eyes and stares deeply into them, and does for him what he has done for Elsbet in the past, when he's feared she's had too much Absinthe; he carefully checks the boy for any sign of brain damage. He finds none, and as Snape gives a sigh of relief, Sebring breathes his last. "New spell, Professorprotectorness?" Peeves asks and Snape réponses absently, "no, an old one I have...refined." He lifts the boy carefully, knowing he has allies nearby. He walks swiftly to the end of the dark corridor and finds them comming to a stop just around the corner. He's surprised, though of course it doesn't show. He's pleased as well, but that doesn't montrer either.
Luna and Draco.
Snape wants to ask about the girl, but he sees Draco is wearing something yellow and black around his neck; it's just a little braided cord, perhaps she took it from her scarf and made it for him...he sees a slight coloring to Draco's cheeks, and suddenly feels the very slight brush of Luna's mind. Hilda is doing very well, Professor, she thinks dreamily, and Snape glances at her in acknowledgement. He carefully places the boy in Draco's arms, then thinks, Miss Lovegood, I trust toi recall the potion I showed you, and she smiles. Snape watches them disappear into the gloom of the corridor, then turns back to the dead Sebring. "That's two," Peeves hisses, and Snape raises his wand. Expertly, he transfigures the dead Death Eater's body into an innocent-looking little figurine, which Peeves quickly picks up and stuffs into a pocket.
Snape looks up at the chaotic little spirit, and that amazingly loyal chaotic little spirit looks down at Snape. After a moment, they nod to each other, then silently go their separate ways, as if nothing unusual has happened.