Edge Of Gravity

Okay, just wanted everyone to know that this is the end of part one of Edge, aka I\'m going to be skipping a few hours.

The earth beneath Severus Snape\'s feet felt frigid, breezing up his black clad legs, trapped beneath his robes, warming only to tepid before freezing over with another gust. His sallow cheeks sank deeper into his face, while trying to fight the pain of the lost magic in his skin. The bruise from dispensing such an immense amount of power tugged on his soul, body, and mind making even slouching against Longbottom side bearable as they leaned over the puffing caldron.

Swirls of grainy, clammy steam wafted into the distance, making the icy chill all that more frigid and it clumped to every surface in sharp icicles. The smell of herbs and exotic (not to mention highly deadly) unmentionables steeping made Neville feel queasy. It burned, tickled, and scraped his eyes and throat as he tried his best to allow Snape continue his work uninterrupted.

Severus watched the brewing potion with a wild intensity, his eyes only glancing once or twice during the steeping to see the house-elf currently unconscious on the thick mattress of Longbottom\'s bed. Its softness seemed to suck him deeper into its warm feathery guts, lulling him further into his potion forced coma . Severus\'s face burned from the acids that splashed up on his cheeks from leaning too closely in to see the milky brown that bubbled up in a soapy foam. “Longbottom.”

Neville gulped several times trying to clear the lump formed in his throat, to answer the hunched-over old man. He turned his eyes towards the Potions master, trying to push a breath passed his grainy lump but fell short to stare at the steely haired man. His eyes were more sunken in, ugly red spots dotted his cheeks and chin, and the lines in his already aged face made him look like a relic.

Severus was a man of time; a man who knew what it was to lose himself to the twilight of madness where nothing is certain but pain. He was a man who had taken sorrow in all of its minion sisters, from his very first breath, and probably until his very last. But, in these moments, even though the resignation of it all had settled in his soul, it crashed upon him with a bright bold truth. In one little house-elf, he had lost his sanity once again, and was adrift with only his Potions master exterior to keep a part of him in this world.

“Longbottom.” His voice was a snaky growl, while he dug his extended his claw like fingers out to snatch the spoon from the other side of Neville. The shadow of his old professor was surfaced, stirring with sharp yet elegant jerks before the foaming bubbles popped in unison to a swamp brown that jiggled against the sides. “Did you…you…”

The question hung in the air, almost as tangibly as the steam currently clumped to the post of the bed. “No.” He was not going to try to explain anything further, not with the tiny elf hanging so close to death nearby. Seamus would be dealt with in only a matter of hours, after Neville found out if Dobby would survive. Then he would unleash his fury on the man currently unconscious in the dungeons.

No more mercy for the wizard, he would die in the way he was accustomed to handing out death…the Muggle way. A slow, painful and humiliating way for a wizard to die. This would be his last gift to Seamus, after he dragged every detail from his old roommate\'s mouth.

Neville didn\'t want to think about the time Seamus had outside of Snape\'s Manor before he had literally dragged the man back kicking and screaming. His voice hollering curses that Longbottom had countered without thought or feeling. It was only inside that \'the simpering half wit\', as Finnigan had put it, had lifted him by the hair to slam his head against the stone of the wall. His vision had turned red before simply spelling Finnigan to dungeons for further abuse.

“Where?” Snape voice was sharp while he let the spoon clatter to the table. Its acidic mixture eating away at the enamel on the tabletop, before it grew thick and foaming again.

“Dungeons.” Neville cringed away from the spoon, knowing that the mixture would probably eat away his flesh if he touched it. He shifted himself further away from the table, allowing his nervousness of Potions from childhood to take over. The thoughts of melting cauldrons, and seared skin still made him shiver despite his expertise in Severus\' best subject.

“Fine.” Snape pushed himself straight, lifting all his weight off Neville\'s side. He brushed away the quick reflexes of the young wizard, moving out of arm reach to shuffle towards the door. The pain of his body drifted away with his soul, leaving only a heartless Death Eater in its stead. “Once the potion cools to a chalky white, give it to Dobby. Do not leave his side, Longbottom.”

Longbottom shook his head vigorously, knowing the softened tone with a familiarity that brought a sadistic shiver run up his spine. “Yes.”

“No matter what you hear.” Snape voice was deep, adding an echoing bass to his vocal chords.

“Of course, Severus.” Neville turned in time to see the swirl of Snape\'s robes, knowing he would not see Seamus alive again. A fact that left him cold, and yet oddly exhilarated while he turned back to the cauldron. His eyes squinting passed the burning steam, to watch the potion bleach colorless.

Thanks to Larilee