Edge Of Gravity

The soft black velvet rubbed Neville’s neck, a deceptively comforting feeling in robes that caused such dread. He didn’t look at the man, who stood silently by his side. They were waiting for an audience with the Order, informed that the Master would not be seeing anyone.



The summons mean only one thing, they were preparing for uprisings. The last raid by the Evan‘s, nearly killing several members of Voldist had made them apprehensive. Deatheaters had quickly crushed the daring army, killing or capturing all. His only hoped that they would find death quickly, instead of having to endure as he did.



Few would live to have the choice; only a handful would have the sanity left to fight against it. The mind was fleeting with the walls of Pamphilan Dungeons. Pamphila a dark witch, whose power had devastated hundreds, buried on the grounds. She possessed great knowledge of witchcraft, only surpassed by her necromantic wisdom.



Her abilities lending to the earth, seeping into the prisoners like a poison. The limits of life expanded for those tainted, allowing guards the joy of brutal torture on prisoners. The existence within the cells only a shadow of the death, that seemed to be the only escape. Tramped within the walls, the witch’s power feasting on your soul. Nibbling on it until your soul was nothing more then shadows.



“Longbottom.” Severus’s high pitch snarl drew Neville out of his thoughts. “Do not interrupt.” Snape’s voice, even in warning, was comforting after the hours of silence they had shared preparing.



“I know.” He tried to sound detached, even through panic gnawing on him.



Severus mind might have slipped away with age, but his memories were sharp on suffering of the past. “I mean it Longbottom.” He snapped, bony fingers clutching onto his pocketed wand.



Neville gazed through his mask to watching the proud ridged Potion‘s Master. This man had protected him, taught him, and loved him. He would hinder the council, even if it meant he would take the brunt of their power. “Snape…”



“Think of responsibilities.” His voice was aloof, even though he heard pleading behind it. Dobby! The small elf knew that if they did not return, he should find refuge in one of the underground tunnels. He could hide there until he was able to escape and find the Blacks, the closest of the forces.



“Of course, Snape.” From the sharp stare Severus was offered, his voice had not rang true.



Severus glowered at his masked face at length, studying with very snapish wisdom. “Or I will kill you myself.” He growled, turning his attention to several Deatheaters shuffling down the hall.



Neville forced away the smile that edged at his lips, before lowering his head. A threat he would no doubt follow through with, if they both lived. “Of course, Severus.”



“Snape.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes on the disappearing group. Neville did not bother to hide the grin, feeling the uncomfortable shifting of his former potions professor. The pleasure of it bubbled in his stomach, until he vibrated with it.



Neville squashed down his humor, seeing an unmasked man striding towards them. “Severus Snape.” His voice was a deep nasal, matching the rat like appearance. Snape glared at the man, making him shuffle backwards several times before he spoke again. “Follow me.”



The rat man shuffled in front of them, not daring to glance back at the confident stride of Snape. “Remember.”