What Else Is There?

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I am the storm and I am the wonder

And the flashlights, nightmares

Sudden explosions.

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When she had been quite sure that all but she had fallen asleep, her feet had found herself at the old coat closet, now thankfully free of rats. She withdrew a feminine powder blue winter coat and pulled it around herself, smelling the remnants of jasmine and rose from the fabric. It must have been her mother’s. Something about that seemed extremely appropriate.



Stepping over the threshold into the still night, Bridget half-expected some sort of alarm to sound, alerting all inside that someone was leaving the protection of the house… But none came. She took a slow but steady pace up the small hill that led into the town square where she could see somewhere in the distance the familiar church, its lights extinguished.



Rain from earlier on had now gone icy, turning the roads slick as she trudged through the slosh. Her boots held fast and she was able to keep her footing, navigating the slips and turns without much effort. She felt almost dream like in the way she moved.



Since she could remember, graveyards never scared her. The feeling racing through her gut was indeed, miles away from fear. Sensations she couldn’t describe, even in her mind, pumped through her veins as she pushed open the tall Iron Gate in the quietest way she could manage.



It had been an entirely different experience to have been here at midday, surrounded by a handful of adults than it was now, bordering on the wee hours of the morning, all alone. Yet she had known from the moment the service had ended that she needed to return and do this on her own. She had never been very good at disclosing her true emotions to herself amongst the company of others.



Clutching her mother’s coat more tightly around herself, as if to find comfort in it’s snugness, she strode into the yard and purposefully headed for where she knew her destination was. Though she had made mental notes in her mind the first time she had been here, the heavy darkness made it more difficult to be sure she was on the right path. With the church lights out and the street some distance behind, only one night lamp from the road pierced the deep and misty graveyard.



The ice had begun to turn to snow and her eyes caught the familiar willow to her left, knowing her parent’s graves were near. She busied herself to focus on her footing after this, trying her best not to slip on her backside, as a particularly slick patch of frost now covered the grass.



As she realized how close she must have been, she squinted in the direction of the plots where her mother and father’s bodies now lay deep beneath freshly dug earth.



But she was not alone.



Bridget stopped dead, her eyes widening like a deer in the headlights of the stranger now before her, their wand aloft, a bright light now blinding her in surprise.



“Hello?” She squeaked, raising her hand to shield her eyes.



The figure brought their wand down and the light disappeared.



What she could now see as a man stood before her, not a few steps ahead of her, standing directly in front of the place she herself had come to find… Two small stone epitaphs with her parent’s names carved into them. This left no room for error in guessing what reasons he had come here for. Now able to make out his face, she realized he was almost as surprised to have been discovered, as she had been to discover him.



Black eyes looked upon, but not directly at her, his oily black hair framing the edges of the shock of white skin of his face, which was almost completely concealed to her by the lack of light. The hems of his black robes seemed to droop with the weight of rain and melted ice, and she wondered how long he must have been standing there to become so soaked.



As if afraid he might make a run for it, she blurted out, “It’s ok… They all told me what you did for me. I know you helped me yesterday. Thanks.”



He seemed unchanged, still poised to disappear at any moment. “I am aware you have been informed of my aid…” He avoided looking at her directly like before and took a few steps to the side away from her. “Surely you would wish to be alone. You must forgive me for my intrusion. Only I didn’t expect any other visitors here, especially at such an hour.” His words seemed to be carefully formulated, like a defensive action rather than really speaking to her.



“No… that’s ok.” Her voice was low, her eyes grazing over the tombstones thoughtfully. “I probably shouldn’t have come. I know you all risked your necks for me. I just needed…” She trailed off.



“Excuse me, Miss Evans.” He had raised his wand again, preparing to vanish into the night.



“Wait. Please.” This seemed to surprise him further and he lowered his wand hand down to his side as if to wait to hear what she had to say, but not completely convinced to remain. She took a few tentative steps in his direction and he looked as though he was mentally drawing away, yet not physically moving at all.



“I think you should return.” He spoke quickly, managing not to look at her straight on yet again. “You are correct in saying you should not have come here. This is not prudent to put your life in danger after the trouble you’ve caused.” It was apparent that he had tried to sound chastising, but there was something else in his voice…



She simply stood there, now close to him, unmoving against his order. “Why were you here?” She braved the question that had been threatening to come for some time. “Did you know them?”



Though he was visibly trying to hide it, he had obviously been dreading this. “We were in the same year in our school days. That is all.” He drew up to his full height and motioned to the gate. “Now really, you must return. I can tell you’re not a complete idiot. Now is surely not the time to start acting like one.”



Bridget came forward very slowly, but did not walk towards the gate. Instead she closed the distance between them, trying to catch his gaze. At first he stared through her, trying to seem busy studying the sky, but she made it impossible not to look at her without seeming too obvious. What was coming over her? Was it curiosity? Or was it just annoyance that he had always seemed to refuse to look at her?



And then it happened. His dark eyes came down upon hers… He seemed more human than ever, yet terribly ghost like at the same time against the fresh white of snow that now surrounded them. The moments that passed as they met each other’s gaze felt timeless and there was no end of it in sight. It didn’t seem so strange to her now, how he had kept from looking at her since the moment they had met, for now that his eyes were locked into hers, it was impossible for him to look away.









An indefinite strangeness was etched in his face, full of placidity, yet raging just underneath the surface in silent tempests of feeling. They spoke volumes just beneath his skin, hidden and unwanted. A lump began forming in the confines of her throat, as if something about the intensity of the way he now looked on her was instilling her with secrets of silent tragedy.



So many questions were begging to be spoken; yet she couldn’t. There was something so powerful about this moment, too intangible to understand, but too clear to question. The only sound was the storm overhead, growing in momentum as snow began to fall in earnest, gathering in their hair and melting on the skin of their faces.



Her vision had finished adjusting to the darkness, and she could put a word to his now visible expression. Pain.



But then it was over. He wrenched his gaze away and she almost thought she could hear the invisible force that kept them there rip away from her. He had looked into the darkness and she followed his eyes to see Remus running towards them, a paternal resolve emanating in her direction.



“Bridget, what-“ He stopped and glanced at both of them. “Ah, Severus.” He looked confused. “I… I suppose I’m glad to see you.” Remus motioned in Bridget’s direction, panting a little, hinting that he had sprinted all the way there from the house.



“Remus. Forgive me if the feeling is far from mutual.” Bridget looked up at Severus, seeing clearly that any trace of the humanity she had seen before had vanished, replaced by a truly unmistakable contempt. “I was just about to return Miss Evans to the allegedly incompetent care of Black and yourself. However, seeing how you have made it here, as late as you may be, I shall take my leave. I trust you can handle it from here.”



Remus seemed as if he might retort, but had chosen against it, smiled sadly and said. “Of course.”



“Of course.” Severus repeated, and without hesitation, he disapparated with a pop into the unknown.



“You must forgive him… One can’t help but be oneself after all.”



Bridget had been staring into the space where Snape had vanished, but looked up as Remus approached her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as if to console her for some horrible experience he thought she might have had.



“He was… well not really mean to me.” She almost laughed, grinning up at him.



“Well I wouldn’t expect so…” He started pushing her forward, guiding her to the gate. “You really put me through a scare there. I knew you’d be here when you weren’t in your bed. If you thought I wasn’t going to check on you, you were wrong.”



She ignored this and stopped, turning to face him. “Why do you think he was here? I mean he told me he was in the same year as them or something, but that doesn’t really justify it, does it?”



Remus chuckled and nudged her forward. “You’re just as inquisitive as your dear mother. Bridget, it’s freezing out here. And more importantly it’s not exactly safe. We can continue when we get inside, alright?” Bridget nodded in response, feeling rather childish. They marched back, his hand on her shoulder the entire time as if to keep her from attempting to postpone again with any more questions.

















It wasn’t long before they found themselves dressed out of their coats, and he had insisted that she should defrost and wait for him to make some hot cocoa before they continued the conversation. Indeed, she hadn’t realized how cold she become outside until the warmth of the fireplace Remus had rekindled with his wand touched her hands and face. The change in temperature stung her cheeks, but not unpleasantly. She sat on the floor, reaching out to the flames, glancing impatiently at the kitchen until he returned.



The chocolate’s warmth was not an unwelcome sensation as it slid down her throat, heating her insides. Remus had taken a plush old reading chair by the fire, sipping at his own mug, staring thoughtfully out the window.



“So… why was he there?”



He laughed and she had the distinct impression that he had been waiting for her to ask.



“I know I told you we would continue when we got back but… I’m beginning to wonder if it’s even my place to tell you.” He tossed his head to the side to get a strand of loose graying blond hair out of his face, smiling at her in some weird amusement.



She pouted, almost comically, shifting to face him dead-on, her eyes looking on him with annoyance



He nodded wisely in her direction. “Then again… I’m sure if I don’t tell you you’ll ask Sirius first thing tomorrow and he’ll be more than happy to give you a far more cruel version of the story.” He sighed, taking another drink and leaned far back into his chair, now looking at Bridget.



“Go on. Please.” She looked at him imploringly. It didn’t matter if she knew she was being terribly nosey. Her parents’ lives were surrounded in mystery, and every detail was like pure gold. At first she had wondered if she should tell Remus about what had conspired between her and the strange man with the black eyes, but thought against it.



“Remember, I told you that your father James, Sirius, myself and a boy named Peter had all been good friends back at Hogwarts? Well we were all in the house of Gryffindor, one of the four houses all students were sorted into in their first year. Severus was in Slytherin and according to social politics our houses were in competition against each other. Slytherin and Gryffindor didn’t get along, to put it in far more simple terms. But even more than that, Sirius and James seemed to take it upon themselves to be especially cruel to Severus.” He took a long pause to drink yet again, this time taking a moment to glance up at the moving portrait that sat on the mantle, four boys grinning and waving silently at them.



“But then why would he have been there tonight? To spit on my dad’s grave or something?”



“It wasn’t James’ grave he was visiting, I am quite sure.” He gave another knowing nod, leaning forward a little before he continued, his elbows resting on his knees. “You see, Severus and Lily had been good friends towards the beginning of our school days. She was in Gryffindor but they had managed to remain on good terms. However… Severus began making friends within the Slytherin house whom by their own admissions, favored purebloods and took it upon themselves to insult and discredit any muggle-borns they could manage to.



“And this, more than anything else, burned the bridge between your mother and Severus. Slowly and quite painfully, I’m sure.”



Bridget squinted down at her feet, hugging her legs to her chest. This still didn’t explain everything. What happened back there had hinted at something more than just regret for a lost friendship. Yet she knew she shouldn’t tell him about the strange moment she and the man had shared. It was almost as if she knew she would betray his trust… though just how, she wasn’t sure.



“So…” She spoke carefully. “Is that, uhm, all?”



Remus took a deep breath and looked ruefully in her direction. “There’s only so much I could speculate without being unfair. I don’t like gossip, it’s never healthy for any party involved.”



“But what do you mean?” She perked up, wondering if he might say something to make it all form a sensible explanation.



“Too many questions in one night… Besides I wouldn’t tell you even if I could.” He put a hand on his head and looked at the clock by the front door. “You ought to be getting some sleep now, Bridget. It’s half passed four already. If you’d like I can take you back to the graveyard tomorrow.”



At first she had protested that falling asleep would be too difficult, but as her head hit the pillow not five minutes later did she fall into slumber. Her dreams were dark and cryptic, scenes flashing before her eyes of forests and people arguing, running lucidly through thick crowds of laughing faces, impossibly black eyes gazing at her from somewhere hidden.