Enduring Survival
Prologue
This story is based upon the characters and situations written by the
incomparable JKR. The rights to these belong to her and others and
I am using them only for my own personal amusement and receive absolutely
no monetary reward for doing so.
Author\'s note: For those of you who enjoyed (if that word can be
used in this context) my \"A Day in the Life of a Houseslave\", here is both
the prequel and continuation of that story. I would suggest that you
read that story first before beginning this one.
Enduring Survival
That which can not be changed, must be endured.
Prologue
Severus Snape was a notoriously light sleeper. His bouts of insomnia,
which was first appeared during his school years, guaranteed that the amount
of time that he spent sleeping in his bed was scant. He had long ago
given up as useless the attempts to remain upon the mattress, tossing and
turning until his body and mind finally surrendered reluctantly to the weariness
that was weighing heavily upon them. Instead, he preferred to use his
pent-up energy to prowl the halls, prepare potions or sit, absorbed in a
book while the rest of Hogwarts appeared to snooze peacefully around him.
This, of course, had presented some difficulties when he was a student
and forced to observe the curfew rules and the heckling of his fellow dormitory
mates, who rather objected to their own sleep being disturbed by his restless
nocturnal activities.
But his cur pos position as a teacher and his solitary living arrangements
ensured that few people took note of his sleeping (or rather, nonsleeping)
habits now. And, since it was the Christmas holiday and most of the
students dawdled in their beds past breakfast, it would mean that his own
failure to appear in the Great Hall for that meal would not arose any notice.
It was with some satisfaction that he had reluctantly crawled between
his bedcovers at five o\'clock in the morning, anticipating that he might
end up sleeping until mid-afternoon with no one remarking upon his absence
or disturbing his well-earned rest.
Not to say that he was ever anything but the lightest of sleepers. He
knew from past experience that even the faint buzzing of an insect, or the
slight rustle engendered by a single piece of parchment falling upon the
floor was enough to rouse him. So when he found himself sitting up
in bed, the sound of the blast still reverberating in the air, he was certain
that there had been no warning of the attack.