Lost

Disclaimer: They are not mine; I just take them out to play.

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Deep in a rarely explored branch of the forbidden forest, about 37 miles north of Hogwarts, a naked man lay sprawled on the grassy ground of a small clearing. Arms and legs akimbo, as if he'd been carelessly tossed there like a forgotten toy, he slept the deep, dreamless sleep of the unconscious. The forest here was almost primeval. At the edge of the tiny clearing the trees were huge and dark; upper branches entwined together in a canopy more reminiscent of a rainforest than an English wood. From the edge of the trees, lurking in the perpetual twilight under the dense canopy, inhuman eyes regarded the still form with avid interest. Nostrils flared as the creature took long scenting breaths.

The man was not beautiful. He was tall and muscular, but a bit too thin. Pale skin was now kissed for the first time in years by an early spring sun filtering down through the small break in the trees in which he lay. His ebony hair rested in a tangled fan around a face that, though strangely compelling, seemed all angles. Long, black lashes rested on his cheeks, hiding midnight eyes. A cool breeze raised goose bumps over his exposed skin; the man shivered, but did not stir.

The unicorn took slow, cautious steps when it finally left the security of the trees. It crept slowly up to the man, until it could lower its head to a pale, bootless foot and take a long sniff. Nickering in a friendly fashion, it tossed its head, and then lowered it again to nudge the foot. Another shiver was the only result. The unicorn walked gently around the man until it could lower its violet eyes to the man's face. It inhaled the man's breath, sniffing deeply. Warm fuzzy lips nuzzled the man's nose and then nudged his cheek. With a sigh, the unicorn lay down, pressing as close as it could to the sleeping man. After a while, the man did move. He pulled his limbs into a more natural position, rolled to his side and nestled close to the soft, warm creature beside him.

But Severus did not wake.

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Hermione was never as happy to be Head Girl as she was at this moment. Racing to the door of Dumbledore's office she didn't have to shout or recite the name of every sweet she had ever heard of. She paused long enough to shout the password she had already been given, this week it was Canary Cream, and flew, breathless up the stairs with Ron and Harry fast on her heels. It took Albus a good five minutes to hand them mugs of chocolate and get the frantic students to calm down enough to make sense. Completely frustrated by the loss of time, Hermione ungracefully blurted out that Neville's cauldron had exploded and that Professor Snape was missing and perhaps dead. She then further embarrassed herself by beginning to cry again. Albus' merry blue eyes grew more serious, but the twinkle did not entirely disappear. Asking them to wait for just a moment, he excused himself and walked through an arched doorway into his private quarters. When he returned, the twinkle was back in full force. Stepping up to where Hermione sat on the sofa, flanked on either side by her two best friends, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Don't worry, my child," he said soothingly. "Severus is not dead, nor does he seem to be in any particular danger at the moment."

Hermione raised sorrowful eyes up to the man she thought could right any wrong. "But Headmaster, how could you possibly know?"

"Come with me, my dear," Albus said, taking her hand as she stood, then leading her through the archway. "You boys come along, too."

Just inside the archway, against the wall, stood a large grandfather clock. It was comfortably familiar to the three students that followed Albus into the room. Having many hands, each one bore the picture of a person Albus considered family. Around the edge of the face--instead of numbers--were designations ranging from "Teaching Class" to "Hung-over." As Hermione searched for the face she most wanted to see at the moment, she was startled to see her own face giving her a surprised look from a hand set firmly in the designation "In Love."

"I'm just not going to even think about that right now," she thought to herself. "I am not going to think about it. Nimue's panties! I hope the boys don't notice...but where in hell is Seve...Professor Snape?" Finally, she located the stern but cherished face. His picture appeared, at turns, either sneering or seeming mildly embarrassed to be shown on the clock at all. His hand was centered in the designation "Lost."

"You see, my dear," said Albus calmly, "we have not lost your Potions Professor, we've merely misplaced him."

"We've got to find him, Headmaster," she replied firmly. "We simply must find him immediately."

"That will be easier said than done, I'd wager. Dumbledore said smoothly. "But don't worry yourself another moment, Hermione. Severus is a very powerful wizard, and I assure you he won't come upon anything he won't be able to handle. He'll probably turn up in time for tea." Albus was shocked to find his calm words did not have the desired effect. Hermione resumed her quiet weeping and both boys stared at the floor dejectedly.

"Headmaster, you don't understand." Hermione spoke so softly that Albus had to lean in to hear her. "He vanished, but his clothes didn't. He doesn't have his wand."

"What?" Albus barked, much louder than he intended. "You're telling me Severus Snape is lost--Merlin-knows-where--naked AND wandless?"

In reply, Hermione slid her hand into the pocket of her robes, pulled out a wand longer and much darker than her own, and offered it to the Headmaster. Albus looked at it for a long moment before reaching out to gently remove it from the stricken young woman's hand. As he gazed at it, the ever present twinkle in his blue eyes dimmed and died. Placing the wand in his own pocket absently, as if he suddenly couldn't bear to look at it another second, he then gathered the three students and led them back to their seats in his office. Sitting back down at his desk, he took a long sip of his tea and looked at Hermione, his face serious and determined. "I think, Hermione, that you had best start at the beginning and tell me everything that happened."

His seriousness calmed Hermione where his previous kind words could not. She was at last able to put her tears on hold, and, in a low but steady voice, began.

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Severus woke. Had anyone other than the unicorn been there, they probably wouldn't have noticed. The Dark Lord might finally be dead, but the habits of years as a spy do not die easily, if at all. Severus awoke, but didn't open his eyes; his breathing remained slow and steady. He knew immediately he wasn't in his chambers at Hogwarts, the smell was all wrong. Instead of the comforting smell of books, candle wax, and leather upholstery, he smelled mostly grass and something vaguely equine. Merlin's brass balls! Where the devil was he and how did he get here? Remaining on his back, eyes still closed and breath even, he continued the ruse of sleep while exploring his reluctant memory. It came back in pieces. A curvy woman pressed intimately against him. Frightened chocolate eyes staring into his own. Flashes of green light. Longbottom! With sudden clarity he remembered the horrifyingly mismanaged events that caused his blackout. That took care of the how, now on to the where. Before he could continue investigating his surrounding with ears and nose, he felt warm breath on his face--and something licked him right across the mouth. All pretense fled, his eyes snapped open to stare in disbelief at the face of the unicorn whose nose was almost touching his own. Its pink tongue appeared again, licking his nose.

"That's it," he snapped, "I must be dead. That infuriating twit of a Longbottom has finally succeeded in killing me and I'm obviously in hell."

The unicorn was not dismayed in the least by the man's bitter tone and preceded to nibble on Severus' chin.

"Oh for Merlin's sake stop it," he said in a much softer tone. "That hurts. Those teeth are made for nibbling grass, not chins." Showing an amazing ease, not to mention lack of respect for the sharply horned creature, he raised his hands and literally pushed the furry, inquisitive head away. "Let me up you damned silly beast, and mind the horn! If I have to be alive then I'd rather not be immediately impaled."

The unicorn stepped back with reluctance and nickered encouragingly. Severus sat up, his eyes taking in the pastoral surroundings before making his second unpleasant discovery, followed quickly by his third. He was naked as a newly hatched Hippogriff! At first he thought this only a minor annoyance--until he reached for his wand, thinking to easily rectify the situation. One half hour, one fruitless search, and an unending stream of profanities ranging from "Merlin's pink g-string!" to "JesusMaryMotherFUCK!" later he gave up the search, sat back down, and rested his head in his hands. The unicorn had aided his search by prancing about, nickering gleefully, and occasionally touching a cold, wet nose to assorted bits of his bare anatomy. "I absolutely detest unicorns," he said tiredly.

That statement was completely untrue. Only those with the blackest of hearts hated unicorns. In truth, Severus thought unicorns were graceful and almost painfully beautiful. However, though he never tired of looking at them, he avoided them like the Goblin plague. It wasn't because he detested them, it was because he was completely embarrassed by the way unicorns treated him. Apparently something about him was the unicorn equivalent of catnip. Here he was--a nasty, unpleasant, unattractive, ex-Death Eater--and apparently all unicornkind thought he was the most fascinating thing since the invention of Floo powder. Hagrid warned him ahead of time when unicorns were in the corrals so he could be certain to stay far away--for if Severus passed close enough for them to get a good whiff, they would escape the corrals to gambol around him, nuzzling his robes, following him around until he managed to escape their attentions. Anyone who saw the unicorns following the dour Potions Master around like ducklings after their mother would collapse on the ground howling with glee. Not a sight to instill in others fear of his dark, Death Eater persona. (Not to mention the fact that it embarrassed the hell out of him.) He had tried in vain to determine what exactly it was about him that caused such an inexplicable reaction in the violet eyed creatures. He'd tried glamours, invisibility cloaks, masking his scent, but nothing worked. Dumbledore had patiently tried to explain to him that the unicorns didn't care about his lack of virginity, or the deeds in his past, but only in the true state of his heart; it was that alone which drew them. Severus found that as ridiculous as Arthur Weasley's electric plug collection.

He regarded the unicorn through narrowed eyes. "Why don't you stop sniggering at me and do something useful--like finding me something to eat?" To his utter astonishment, the unicorn trotted off into the forest with a whinny that rang out like a peal of bells.