The Man Who Came In From The Cold

JK Rowling's characters and Wizarding Universe are all uniquely hers. Plot, new characters, new magical terms and abilities etc. are my intellectual property. If you want to borrow then please kindly ask.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE. This story is rated T.

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.

The Man Who Came In from the Cold

Chapter 003: Out of Darkness

Two days.

Snape estimated that his entombment had been at least that: Two days without food; two days of relieving himself in his pants; two days of an unholy nightmare that seemed to have no end. He hadn’t dared think of anything, lest it drew the Dementors to him.

He had not thought of the unbearable smell of feces and urine that obliterated whatever lasting vestige of his dignity and the sandalwood scent that might have lingered on his filth encrusted skin. He would not think of the hunger that overwhelmed him and threatened his focused emptiness. He refused to contemplate the rats and parasites that had lay siege to his form and claimed it as their own. Nor did he ponder the possibility that the longer the Dementors overran the town, the more likely it was that he would be discovered. He sat motionless and devoid of any semblance of sentience as though he were a man of tin or scarecrow of straw.

Finally the eerie fog lifted from the factory and he could get himself out of his hiding place. It took over an hour before the feeling came back into his legs and he could move without pain. Being in the presence of the Dementors sapped the strength from a magical being; Chocolate was the most effective remedy and was sorely needed now; but a hot shower and clean clothes were far more important. He needed to get off the mainland sooner rather than later and travel on the ferry was impossible in his current vagrant state.

He would have to lower himself to another level of hell and secure both the means by which to cleanse himself and the clothes he needed. With any luck chocolate would be in the immediate vicinity. His principles be damned – this was survival.

xxxOOOxxx

Snape stood on the hill where the factory was located; a hill that enjoyed a scenic panorama of the historic town. The Dementors had moved on and were heading deep into the countryside.

Thank Merlin (he didn’t believe in God, actually).

It was time to get to work. He knew exactly what he was looking for. Nothing too ostentatious (he was not one to call attention to himself and it would be suicidal given his predicament); nothing outrageous (as he himself most definitely was not); and nothing that was bright (as neither most definitely were not attributes which he had ever been in possession or capable of). Persons who veered towards his own peculiar idiosyncrasies were not likely to live in the most opulent of homes, he thought; fortunately for him the old factory was situated in a rather salubrious part of town, far off the beaten tourist track. This was where he would find the accoutrements for the way forward.

He detested taking anything from anyone, especially the less fortunate; but his drive to survive outweighed the guilt that plagued him about what must be done.

xxxOOOxxx

The old house had seen better days, that much was certain.

It was ideally situated, being detached and set back from the road. He had tried seven houses on different roads without success. The inhabitants were clearly present in five of them and that would never do. The other two had clothes far too small and large for him so there was little point to bothering with cleaning up to only have to put back on his foul, soiled clothing. He walked further on, away from the factory until he found a section of town not quite as bad as the last, but definitely a rung up the ladder. The houses were all detached surrounded by ample greenery on somewhat spacious ground to the front and rear. The streets themselves were thick with trees – a blessing if there ever was one.

It was the perfect cover for the plunge into his new life as a criminal.

He knew that this house was the one after a tour around the perimeter which revealed post that had not been collected for several days. There was several filled milk bottles to the rear of the building, outside what must be the kitchen door. Whoever lived here had left in a hurry and had given no thought to the finer details as they prepared to leave and whilst they were gone.

Fletcher would have creamed his pants with such golden opportunities as this provided.

The old kitchen door had been easily forced and Snape eased his way in soundlessly. A quick and careful check revealed neither owner nor Dementor. Good; but he would not linger longer than necessary. He quickly found his way to the main bedroom, complete with en-suite bathroom; whoever lived here liked modern conveniences. En-suites were not remotely possible in the less than salubrious environs of his former home in Spinner’s End.

This house was a castle compared to his old one.

The built-in wardrobes and chests of drawers revealed that a man did indeed live here, a man not too far off in stature from his own. Further investigation revealed a storage room filled with clothes in rubbish bags, tagged for a charity of some sort. He would take just enough to see him through and only what he could reasonably carry. There was an ample selection to choose from, but he did not want to touch them until he was thoroughly clean.

It had been so long since he’d been thoroughly clean from his hair to his toenails; he couldn’t remember when hot water had felt this good next to his skin. It had pained him to see his reflection in the mirror over the sink. Grimy and unkempt; a full beard when he had always detested facial hair; dark shadows and bags ringed his eyes. He had two hot-showers that took an hour in total. He shaved meticulously so that there was no hint of the fluffiness left on his face. It had taken far longer than getting clean should have, but these were extraordinary circumstances which called for unusual measures he would not normally have considered.

The storage room also revealed a large rucksack and carry-all that could be carried across the shoulders. He did not dare turn on the lights and instead made due with the bright moonlight streaming in the windows. The clothes had not yet acquired the musty scent that came from being packed away for too long. Whoever lived here was having a good clear-out which had been undertaken recently.

Snape could not bear to contemplate putting on used underwear even if it was newly laundered, but he took them all the same. Beggars could not be choosers, he reminded himself as he put on a pair. Next were a white shirt, black jumper and jeans. There were several good pairs of jeans along with some which were decidedly worn. He took them along with several jumpers and shirts. The clothes were a bit large on his skeletal frame, but now was not the time to be pernickety. There were two pairs of construction boots and a pair of black loafers. They were slightly larger than he would have liked, but given the weather and need for, they would serve him well – especially with the two layers he was wearing to protect himself from the cold.

A heavy woolen slate-coloured coat and battered old hat completed his new ensemble. His old things were chucked into a rubbish bag; he could easily get rid of them when the opportunity presented itself in Jersey.

He moved quickly to the kitchen after dressing. He needed some chocolate badly. A quick rummage through the cupboards revealed drinking chocolate – not ideal but useful. He spied the refrigerator and had a quick look through its contents. There on the bottom shelf was a thick slab of Green & Black’s – a superior Muggle brand because of its high level of purity. He grabbed it and wolfed down half immediately. Warm returned to his body and a newfound strength. His mind was crystal clear again and the world of the living was no longer closed off to him.

Snape surveyed the fridge and cupboards and took enough food to see him through for a few days with careful rationing: bread, cheese, squeezable peanut butter and jam, more chocolate and a small parcel of cook meats. He packed these things neatly in his rucksack along with the shaving things, toothbrush and toothpaste he’d taken from the other houses and prepared to leave after having a quick sandwich. The rubbish bag with his old clothes was tucked in a sturdy tote that he found in the kitchen. Anyone seeing him would think he was off on a holiday, skiing perhaps in the Alps.

Whoever lived here was well off enough to be throwing away perfectly good clothes. He had poked around further and found a bit of Muggle money in a basket on top of a bookcase. Not a very smart move, but one that delighted him just the same. He put the basket back exactly as he’d found it and then picked up his bags.

He was so careful that no one would ever know that he’d even been there, even if for some strange reason they started doing a house-to house search of Muggle homes.

xxxOOOxxx

The new day had not yet dawned by the time Snape set off for the ferry. After a short walk he came to a bus stop that indicated the next bus was due momentarily. It was headed towards the docks – perfect. It was better to take a chance with Muggle transport than to spend half a day wearing himself out with walking, weighed down by his bags. Besides, he did not want to have to take an even bigger risk and go back into hiding. Using the advantages of traveling in such dismal weather he pulled his hat lower, wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck and face so that only his black eyes showed; black eyes not entirely clear because of the glasses he was wearing.

Glasses – something else that no one knew anything about.

The tired bus driver could care less anyway.

‘One, to town,’ Snape said in his oily voice.

He deposited his money on a little tray the hung off the driver’s door and then took the paper ticket that appeared from a machine after the man pushed a couple of buttons. He resisted a smirk as he took his seat and counted the minutes as the bus rolled along.

He was almost free.

xxxOOOxxx

Snape alighted several blocks away from the ferry with two other passengers. It had surprised him that even in the dead of night it was full on the Night Bus in a provincial town like Poole. However, should enquiries to ever be made he didn’t want to provide any leads. There may have been others getting off for the Ferry later, but he was not to be counted among them.

Fortunately his stop was a major construction site and with his attire it made perfectly good sense. He walked over to the site and walked abound the perimeter fence that had a large arrow pointing to the Builder’s Entrance. Hearing the bus leave, he kept on walking to the next street over, following the scent of the English Channel.

He looked up at the signage on the nearest corner and sure enough, the way was being pointed to Ferry Terminal. Inwardly he let out a sigh of relief, but he had a long way to go before Jersey became a reality.

xxxOOOxxx

The terminal was heaving with people scrambling to book passage on the next this-or-that out of here. There were ferries to France, Belgium, the Netherlands and all of the Channel Islands, including Jersey. Identification was not required to get to his destination; just the means to get himself there. What little money he had needed to be conserved, he thought. But he did have enough for a ticket. Fortunately tickets were checked at the barrier rather than on board. With the number of passengers, freight and cars on board there was little time for that. He reached the barrier and found the ferry beyond would be the only one to Jersey that day due to the inclement weather. There was not enough room on board for all who wanted to travel. Priority was to be given to island residents first but only with verification of residency, the transport worker shouted out.

The ever-increasing mass of humanity was on the verge of falling apart. Snape didn’t care about anyone else and he was resolved that he would be one to make aboard. There was shouting now and a heavy pushing forward as people fought each other for a place. The barrier gave way and the sea of humanity surged forward as the last call was sounded. Snape wasted no time – he pushed forward at a hard run and didn’t stop once he made it on board. He moved quickly up several flights of stairs to one of the cruiser cabins where he secured a seat away from prying eyes. There was a slight shudder and with a faint sigh of relief his mind engaged his senses in the feeling of moving forward. He peered out the window to his left and would not feel for the people stranded in England; screaming parents with crying children; old people wanting to be home surrounded by warmth and familiarity; those embarking on a new life of togetherness.

Or perhaps even those like him running towards unknown future with the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse that was their past riding hard at their backs.

He looked further down the coastline as the ferry moved out to sea. The Dementors were taking hold of yet another seaside town, suffering under the illusion that their prey would be sniffed out. Sniffed out like vermin on the scent of a few crumbs…and then snuffed out completely as though he had never even existed….

He forced himself to look ahead at the lights of Jersey glittering tantalisingly ahead.

For the first time in days, Severus Snape began to think of the future he had not prepared himself for. His would have to be a solitary life of complete anonymity. There would be no friends, no intimacies. He would neither seek out company nor be the sort that others sort out to ease their own solitude.

It would be no different to the life he’d always led, minus the magic and the destructiveness of the wizarding world.

Survival was the only thing that mattered. He needed to establish himself discreetly in some fashion and then find a way to secure news of what was happening in Britain. His damnable pride – and the art of self-preservation would not allow him to settle for anything less.

He needed to clear his name, somehow…and stay alive in the process.