Beneath

He needed out. He needed air. He needed to bury himself so deeply in Hermione that no one would ever get him out again.

Severus ran down the stairs and out into the snow draped courtyard, his feet pounding out the rhythm of his heart. He ran faster, his mind filled with the agony of what could not, should not, must not be. His body tensed, long fingers fisted tightly, drawing blood from his palms. The blood ran down his forearms and dripped from his elbows into the snow. The forest closed around him.


In a tower window high above, concern creased Albus Dumbledore’s brow. “Poor boy…poor dear boy,\" he muttered, turning back to the flashing green fire.

“Hagrid, I say, Hagrid, are you there…”


Suddenly, Severus’ foot caught in a tree root, lifting his body into the air. He fell with a loud thud, striking his head on the ground. Severus rolled onto his back, cursing himself. He knew better than to allow his blood to piltpilt on the ground, for anyone to gather, especially in the Dark Forest. Damn! Damn! He pounded the words into the ground. “Goddamnit!” he cursed, the sound wrenched from his throat between pants. The sound shot upwards, but went unheard.

He was alone. He would always be alone.

From deep within him, a wave of emotion pulled his stomach muscles tight. He rolled onto his side, clutching himself, trying desperately to hold back the tide of tears that rose in his throat. He pushed the heels of his hands against his eye sockets, vainly trying to stop them from leaking dreaded, dashed tears onto his cheeks. But he was weak...and the misery was overwhelming.

Why? He thought as the tears bled forth, why couldn’t he have been born Harry Potter? Ron Weasley? That bastard Malfoy? They were so stupid, those little boys. Their heads filled with the glories of Quiddich and unobtainable dreams. Didn’t they see that everything a man could want was at the end of their fingertips? All they had to do was reach out. Touch it. Touch her. If Severus were to try…the ugly, old, malicious bastard he had become would frighten her away. She would run. She would be outraged. She would laugh. She would be right.

At that moment, as never before, Severus wanted to die. He was so tired. His work was done. What was left for him but the long slow aging of a Wizard, and years of desperate loneliness? Surely, the cold would kill him eventually. All he had to do was go to sleep…

A loud crack from the direction of the lake, startled him. Damn! Couldn’t a man be left to die in peace without those dunderheaded children getting into trouble. It must be well after midnight! Severus shoved himself to his feet, wiped his eyes, and took off toward the lake. Luckily, he had passed the lake before entering this part of the forest, so it would take only a few seconds to reach the…

Arms were waving wildly from the side of the lake. Some idiot must have forgotten the edge was covered with snow! It was quite deep just there, Severus remembered, as he raced toward the edge of the water, on the opposite bank from the flailing girl.

“Hermi…Miss Granger…I’m…I’m coming,\" he shouted, as recognition struck him. Hermione’s gloved hands slipped across the surface of the ice and disappeared beneath the inky water.