The Man Who Came In From The Cold
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
1,915
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
1,915
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
2. Fallen
Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask. JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers.
Summary: Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.
Alternate Universe. This story is rated T.
The Man Who Came In from the Cold
Chapter 002: Fallen
He was surprised at how quickly it had taken. With no money, and no realistic opportunity to secure funds in any way, he’d had no choice. And that’s how it began – the improbable was rendered excusable and that was that.
His descent into the hell that was living rough was now absolute; the deprivation of basic necessities so overwhelmed him that he very nearly lost his mind before giving in to his needs. There was no point in being so proud if his innate stubbornness brought about his death prematurely. He found himself scouring the garbage left to rot behind eating establishments and bakeries.
Snape, who had been so peculiarly particular about his food and how it was prepared, now found that his discerning palate tolerated anything and everything as long as there was no cost to him. Even the vermin that populated some areas began to look appealing as his desperation increased.
He could sink no lower than this.
xxxOOOxxx
Snape’s instincts told him that the likelihood of being captured had significantly increased. He slept fitfully by day well hidden from any chance discovery – but only for the moment. He moved through undeniable exhaustion at night from town to town, village to village. If he remained on the British Mainland he would surely be caught. With that realization the reality of needing to head offshore had become more and more obvious.
Going to Continental Europe was the most sensible solution as it would take him well outside of the Dark Lord’s grasp and Ministerial interest. With his looks, Eastern Europe provided the best possible cover. On the other hand, he would never have the opportunity to right the wrongs against his name – and that was not something his pride would allow. And Dumbledore was still clinging to life, albeit feebly from the last snatch of news he’d managed to catch. Given the entirety of the situation, he could not leave the British Isles altogether. Had he been stereotypically Slytherin to his magical core, Snape would not have hesitated to leave by any means necessary.
That was the way of cowards; and not being anything near typical, Severus Snape was anything but.
There was one option that could be quite useful indeed; and the more Snape thought it over, the more it made sense. Nothing was known about his family; in particular no one knew that his mother had been born in Jersey and spoke fluent French along with Jerais, the local tongue. He had spent time there occasionally growing up and had reasonable enough memories of the place.
Jersey was 100 miles from mainland Britain but only 14 miles from the Northern coast of France, the island Crown Dependency was considered to be part of the British Isles, but it was not part of the United Kingdom – and therefore outside of its governance. It had close governance ties with Basse-Normandie; something that could be quite useful. How fortunate it was that like his mother, Snape also knew French and Jerais. No one else was aware of this, not even the Headmaster. All things being equal, most reasonable outcome was that he should endeavour to get himself to Jersey as soon as possible.
Snape couldn’t use magic to get himself there; as there was no doubt that the British Ministry of Magic was tracking him. That was the one thing that always caught wizards and witches on the run – the limited capacity for logic and reasoning for most of them almost assuredly let to them using magic for some manner of foolishness. Being a Half-Blood he knew his way around Muggles as well as any Muggle with non-magical ties.
He would make his way to the Jersey ferry terminal in Poole and then let fate dictate how he would get himself on one undetected to cross Channel.
xxxOOOxxx
His luck was holding out and yet he found himself praying silently; willing whatever it was that was up there rolling the die to give him Snake Eyes. It had taken three weeks of ducking and dodging – but at last he’d made it to the outskirts of Poole in Dorset after one of the worst snowfalls in recent memories. Again he slept fitfully during the day in a hidey-hole he’d secured and then came out at night to finally make his way to the Ferry.
Snape had just rounded the corner from the ruins of an old abandoned factory when he felt it. A cold that was unlike any other washed over him as the stars flickered off as if from the click of a light switch. His insides curled up into themselves.
‘NO!’ he screamed in his mind. ‘NO!’
The Dementors – a full detail of guards from Azkaban, the wizarding prison – were swarming the town. The Muggle inhabitants of Poole couldn’t see them, but the unseasonable cold forced them behind cold doors where it was warm and they felt…good. Something about this latest snowstorm made everyone positively miserable – as if the sun would never shine again. They just wanted the eerie mist that had settled over everything to lift…
Snape could see the Dementors gliding in and out of the shadows. They didn’t like bright light particularly so avoided it where possible. This was impossible – against one or two at the most he might be alright; but not against a horde of them.
He forced himself to calm down and to empty his mind and being of all emotion. It would be the only thing that could save him; using the Patronus Charm against them was out of the question. But his hiding place was far safer than being out here in the open. Jersey would just have to wait.
The former professor moved back towards the old factory, watching his steps carefully. Minutes felt like hours as he out-manoeuvred his would-be guards and made it back to relative safety. He had just placed the last brick back in the wall that concealed his whereabouts when the ungodly cold washed over him again followed by a freakish glowing fog.
The Dementors were checking the old factory and were making their way towards the area that he was in. Snape half-closed his eyes and shut down emotionally – more so than was usual. He hadn’t come this close to only to have it all go belly-up at the moment of his deliverance from absolute evil.
Merlin help him, he needed to make it through this.
Summary: Snape is on the run from Voldemort and the Ministry of Magic, both of whom will stop at nothing to silence him. He finds unexpected refuge in the most unlikely of places.
Alternate Universe. This story is rated T.
The Man Who Came In from the Cold
Chapter 002: Fallen
He was surprised at how quickly it had taken. With no money, and no realistic opportunity to secure funds in any way, he’d had no choice. And that’s how it began – the improbable was rendered excusable and that was that.
His descent into the hell that was living rough was now absolute; the deprivation of basic necessities so overwhelmed him that he very nearly lost his mind before giving in to his needs. There was no point in being so proud if his innate stubbornness brought about his death prematurely. He found himself scouring the garbage left to rot behind eating establishments and bakeries.
Snape, who had been so peculiarly particular about his food and how it was prepared, now found that his discerning palate tolerated anything and everything as long as there was no cost to him. Even the vermin that populated some areas began to look appealing as his desperation increased.
He could sink no lower than this.
xxxOOOxxx
Snape’s instincts told him that the likelihood of being captured had significantly increased. He slept fitfully by day well hidden from any chance discovery – but only for the moment. He moved through undeniable exhaustion at night from town to town, village to village. If he remained on the British Mainland he would surely be caught. With that realization the reality of needing to head offshore had become more and more obvious.
Going to Continental Europe was the most sensible solution as it would take him well outside of the Dark Lord’s grasp and Ministerial interest. With his looks, Eastern Europe provided the best possible cover. On the other hand, he would never have the opportunity to right the wrongs against his name – and that was not something his pride would allow. And Dumbledore was still clinging to life, albeit feebly from the last snatch of news he’d managed to catch. Given the entirety of the situation, he could not leave the British Isles altogether. Had he been stereotypically Slytherin to his magical core, Snape would not have hesitated to leave by any means necessary.
That was the way of cowards; and not being anything near typical, Severus Snape was anything but.
There was one option that could be quite useful indeed; and the more Snape thought it over, the more it made sense. Nothing was known about his family; in particular no one knew that his mother had been born in Jersey and spoke fluent French along with Jerais, the local tongue. He had spent time there occasionally growing up and had reasonable enough memories of the place.
Jersey was 100 miles from mainland Britain but only 14 miles from the Northern coast of France, the island Crown Dependency was considered to be part of the British Isles, but it was not part of the United Kingdom – and therefore outside of its governance. It had close governance ties with Basse-Normandie; something that could be quite useful. How fortunate it was that like his mother, Snape also knew French and Jerais. No one else was aware of this, not even the Headmaster. All things being equal, most reasonable outcome was that he should endeavour to get himself to Jersey as soon as possible.
Snape couldn’t use magic to get himself there; as there was no doubt that the British Ministry of Magic was tracking him. That was the one thing that always caught wizards and witches on the run – the limited capacity for logic and reasoning for most of them almost assuredly let to them using magic for some manner of foolishness. Being a Half-Blood he knew his way around Muggles as well as any Muggle with non-magical ties.
He would make his way to the Jersey ferry terminal in Poole and then let fate dictate how he would get himself on one undetected to cross Channel.
xxxOOOxxx
His luck was holding out and yet he found himself praying silently; willing whatever it was that was up there rolling the die to give him Snake Eyes. It had taken three weeks of ducking and dodging – but at last he’d made it to the outskirts of Poole in Dorset after one of the worst snowfalls in recent memories. Again he slept fitfully during the day in a hidey-hole he’d secured and then came out at night to finally make his way to the Ferry.
Snape had just rounded the corner from the ruins of an old abandoned factory when he felt it. A cold that was unlike any other washed over him as the stars flickered off as if from the click of a light switch. His insides curled up into themselves.
‘NO!’ he screamed in his mind. ‘NO!’
The Dementors – a full detail of guards from Azkaban, the wizarding prison – were swarming the town. The Muggle inhabitants of Poole couldn’t see them, but the unseasonable cold forced them behind cold doors where it was warm and they felt…good. Something about this latest snowstorm made everyone positively miserable – as if the sun would never shine again. They just wanted the eerie mist that had settled over everything to lift…
Snape could see the Dementors gliding in and out of the shadows. They didn’t like bright light particularly so avoided it where possible. This was impossible – against one or two at the most he might be alright; but not against a horde of them.
He forced himself to calm down and to empty his mind and being of all emotion. It would be the only thing that could save him; using the Patronus Charm against them was out of the question. But his hiding place was far safer than being out here in the open. Jersey would just have to wait.
The former professor moved back towards the old factory, watching his steps carefully. Minutes felt like hours as he out-manoeuvred his would-be guards and made it back to relative safety. He had just placed the last brick back in the wall that concealed his whereabouts when the ungodly cold washed over him again followed by a freakish glowing fog.
The Dementors were checking the old factory and were making their way towards the area that he was in. Snape half-closed his eyes and shut down emotionally – more so than was usual. He hadn’t come this close to only to have it all go belly-up at the moment of his deliverance from absolute evil.
Merlin help him, he needed to make it through this.