2. Descent to Darkness (Zambonigirl)

Chapter Two: Descent To Darkness

by Zambonigirl

Zambonigirl here! I know that Goblynn was supposed to take on chapter two, but her phantom fishie is keeping her a little under the weather right now, so we switched. Fear not, Goblynn will take over chapter three.

For those of you looking for actual humor, you're probably not going to find any in this chapter. Sorry. I just couldn't make Snape's childhood humorous. I added a song ala Mich at the end, though, to soften the blow, so to speak. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you like long chapters! Also, thanks for the great reviews of Michmak's chapter, she really appreciated them, as all the SaSSy girls did.

Flying was the only thing he had left that was his, all his, pure freedom. He was his own man on his broom, beholden to no one, only the wind and the sky. He could fly as high or low as his imagination would allow him, and in the stillness of the night, when no one else was around, he could cast off his severe persona and laugh away his pain.

The first time he had ever been on a broom was when he was seven. Sirius Black had been given a Windrider for his birthday, so Snape's father bought him a newer model for Christmas. The animosity between Snape and Black had started long before Hogwarts, long before they were sorted into rival houses.

But the broom represented more to Snape than just a catalyst to make Sirius green with envy. The first moment that he took the broom handle from his father, after a brief demonstration of how to ride one-as if he didn't know already-he could feel the power within his grasp. If he wanted to go somewhere, he would be there almost immediately. He could fly to the moon, he was sure of it.

And so, he took the broom handle and straddled it, then kicked off the ground. It was as if the broom was connected to his mind as he began to ascend towards the heavens, riding as high as he could go in the crisp winter air. Snow began to fall, and he rode towards the clouds to catch the newest, smallest flakes on his tongue as the wind whipped around his cloak and his hair became damp with melting snow. It was a delicious feeling of freedom as he increased his speed by leaning forward lower, and thoughts of somersaults and corkscrews filled his head as he remembered all the Quidditch games he had seen.

Gripping tightly, he held his breath and began to try and imitate his heroes, and was surprised when he righted himself perfectly after performing a simple trick.

He could fly! He could do it! Oh, how the heavens had opened in his mind, and a gale of laughter followed in his wake as he realized his newfound freedom. He was flying!

For the first time in all his seven years, Snape felt joyful.

From there, he went on to Hogwarts where he was forced into a class to 'learn' how to fly. He had protested to his father that he already knew how to fly, and that was when he learned about Mudbloods. Why should he be forced to endure a class to teach him what he already knew just because there were other children that didn't know how to ride a broom, who shouldn't be allowed into Hogwarts in the first place? His father agreed that it was unfair, but what could either of them do? It wasn't as though they could openly fight against these Mudbloods infiltrating their way of life, was it?

Resolutely, Snape had taken the required class and passed, though his first class had been traumatizing. As he attempted to mount his broom, it began to buck uncontrollably, and one of the Gryffindor Mudbloods had the nerve to laugh at him! A Mudblood! And to make things worse, it was all her fault. If the Mudbloods didn't infiltrate Hogwarts and abuse the school brooms with their untalented riding, his broom wouldn't be bucking!

He still wasn't good enough, however, to join the Quidditch team in his second year, and his father regaled him day after day during the Christmas holidays that Black was on the Gryffindor team, and he was tired of hearing about it. Snape diligently worked to make his father's dream come true, and spent all of his spare time in the Quidditch Pitch, working on new moves, attempting to become better. He had to. His father wanted this! He wanted this! After all, he was a Pureblood, and all magical things should come to him far easier than they came to Mudbloods, yet there were Mudbloods playing along with Black on the Gryffindor team.

Lucius Malfoy, the seventh-year captain of the Slytherin team, took Snape under his wing, and they practiced valiantly day after day during the second half of Snape's second year. Malfoy talked about how unfair it was that they were forced to be in school with Mudbloods while they were Purebloods, and Severus found an outlet to vent his frustration, and Lucius was more than sympathetic.

When Malfoy graduated, Snape felt that he had lost his only friend, and when he didn't make the Quidditch team again in his third year, his father continued to plague him. Couldn't he learn to ride better? How dare he disgrace his family in this way? Didn't he understand that there were Mudbloods riding better than he did?

Snape assured his father that he was riding as well as he could. That Christmas, he was told to remain at school. His father and mother had other engagements to attend to, and they could not bring him along.

He knew the truth, though. He knew that his father would not be able to brag about his Quidditch-playing son to his other friends, so what good was he?

Lucius Malfoy sent him a Christmas letter-an invitation to a party at his family home, and Snape sought permission from his parents to go. His father sent him back a permission letter, and a personal note to make every effort to become better acquainted with Lucius. His father stressed that the alliance could be the most important of his life.

His broom now hopelessly outdated, and with any chance for fame as a Quidditch player remote, Severus gave up on flying for any reason other than transportation, an issue that remained in great contention in his family. His father insisted that with Malfoy's influence on his other teammates, coupled with constant practice, he was sure to make the team.

Severus was invited to Malfoy's house over the summer holiday after spending only a few days in his family house. His father was invited to dinner often, and Lucius and his father often alluded to happenings among the Pureblood wizards to work out the Mudbloods from their society. It was disgraceful! They would argue at dinners, Severus looking on and absorbing all of what was said. How could their children possibly learn properly if there were so many Mudbloods around? Mudbloods had to be taught basic wand use, basic spells, basic potions! Any Pureblood child would be aware of these techniques from watching his parents. Why, Purebloods were given practice wands as children!

A list was made of the Purebloods currently residing in Hogwarts. Severus snorted when Potter, Black and Pettigrew were brought up.

"Potter is ever after a Mudblood called Lily Evans, and Black has been disowned by his family."

"And Pettigrew?" Mr. Malfoy prodded.

"He's so busy worshiping Black and Potter and Lupin that he cares not for anything else. He's a useless boy, if you ask me. Hardly good at charms or potions."

It was the first time he had spoken at one of these dinners, and he almost regretted it at first. But then, all eyes moved to him, and he found that what he had to say was considered important to them. Even to his father!

Feeling encouraged, Severus continued to weigh the merits of his other classmates, and by the end of the evening, they had a list compiled of students and parents, and unknowingly, Severus contributed to the rise of Lord Voldemort by supplying names for followers.

None of that would have made a different to him at any rate, for he spent the summer with Lucius Malfoy, riding Lucius's brand-new Cleansweep and learning new tricks. Between making friends with a man that his father obviously respected and the fact that he would now have an even better chance at making the Quidditch team since Lucius was teaching him again, Snape spent the summer in bliss.

In August, just before he was to take a trip to Diagon Alley and buy his new school things, Lucius brought Snape into his bedroom with a cryptic smile.

"Now I'm going to show you why being a Pureblood is truly so grand, my friend."

With a flourish, he opened the door, revealing two beautiful blondes in skimpy clothing lounging on the floor and listening to phonograph records. They immediately stood and went to Lucius, placing kisses on his cheeks at the same time. He kissed them back, and then indicated Snape, who at nearly fifteen was already experienced with his own arousal. He was not prepared for the feelings he felt when both women turned to him and kissed him in the same way.

"My friend Severus is a virgin," Lucius said. "Do either of you think you can help him with that?"

One of the girls put her hand directly on his arousal and smirked. "Oh, from the feel of things, it would be a pleasure."

"A pleasure," the other one purred while biting his ear.

At first, Severus had felt self-conscious as Lucius watched, sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed and an unreadable smirk on his lips, but then one of the girls knelt down and pulled his robe apart, and he found that he couldn't even bring himself to care if his own mother walked in at that moment.

When Severus had been divested of his virginity and felt sated, Lucius took the prettier of the two girls and told Severus that he would show him how to give pleasure to a lady in the proper way. Severus then watched in rapture as Lucius brought the girl to climax four times before he finally came. Severus was then encouraged to do the same to the other girl, right on the bed where Lucius was now laying, kissing his conquest.

Severus managed to bring the girl to climax twice, once with his hand, and once with his mouth, but came too quickly inside of her. Far from discouraged, the girl simply laughed and held him to her, her hands working on herself while Severus grew hard once more inside of her. Beside him, Lucius moved his face to Severus's ear and began to whisper words of encouragement and direction as Severus began to move again. He told Severus to keep going, no matter how it felt, to not give in to the urge to climax. He had to think about the girl, think about her pleasure, about how she must enjoy what he was doing to her. If he could make her enjoy it, she would give him the world, she would tell him anything, she would love him and worship him.

With those words, Severus felt the girl beneath him begin to twitch around him, though he was unsure at the time what it meant. She scratched into his back and arched her breasts against his chest and bit his shoulder. She screamed and exulted him, begged him to never stop, begged him to love her, begged him to want her. Severus felt the power he held over the girl. If he stopped, he knew that she would do anything to keep him from leaving her. Lucius affirmed that in one ear while the girl whispered similar words in his other ear. He felt powerful and strong and magnificent. He had discovered the secrets of the universe, and he would never let go. The girls at Hogwarts would be gagging for him!

When she came, he came, and they ground against each other for a moment until Lucius pulled Severus off.

"Not too much, friend," Lucius whispered. "She'll come back for you if you don't give her too much."

What Lucius had said proved to be true. What made matters better was that the prettier of the girls-Bellatrix Black- was a seventh-year Slytherin, and word of his prowress quickly spread through the Slytherin ranks like wildfire, causing the girls to love him and the boys to hate him. He actually found that he didn't mind it too much. Unfortunately, it kept him off the Quidditch team, as none of the members would even let him try out. The team captain had even laughed in his face and told him to go back to his harem.

That was precisely what Severus did. He walked back into the common room, grabbed a random third-year by the hand, and showed her that she didn't need to date the captain of the Quidditch team with him around. After that, he was given a wide berth by the other males in Slytherin, unless Potter and Black decided to torment him. Then the Slytherin boys would suddenly appear out of nowhere and egg them on.

In retaliation, Severus took pictures of himself and Bellatrix and sent them to Black. Bella started to teach him how to defend himself. In front of Bella, Severus performed his first Unforgivable on a second-year Mudblood while she praised him for his form.

She had performed fellatio on him while he watched the boy suffer from Cruciatus, pain meeting pleasure in the same room. Afterward, Bella taught Severus how to use an Obliviate on the boy, and they left him on a grassy knoll to be found whenever someone wandered out that way. Severus felt safe. After all, who would suspect a skinny fourth-year of performing an Unforgivable?

The only thing that ruined that day was when he received a letter from his father berating him for not making the Quidditch team again. Now he had to deal with both Sirius and Regulus playing for their respective houses without a Snape representing in the game! Severus was told to practice even harder, for at least an hour every day. He would make the team the following year if only he would practice more!

Severus decided that he no longer cared for flying or Quidditch. In fact, it would not be until he became head of Slytherin house that Quidditch would hold any meaning for him again. During the matches in his school years, he could be found under the bleachers with at least one Pureblood bird, finding out the information that Lucius had requested.

Yes, Lucius had become his closest confidante. Lucius would Owl Severus with the name of a bird, and the information that he would need to find out about her family. Severus did not understand for a few more years what Lucius was gathering information for, but at the time, he really didn't worry too much about it. He possessed a power over the girls of the school that no other wizard possessed.

And while he worked on the girls, Bellatrix worked on the boys.

Flying was certainly his first pleasure, but it had disappointed him. He decided that there were more ways to gain fame than by playing for the British Quidditch team, and if the reaction from the girls at Hogwarts was any indication, he was on the right track to becoming immortal.

Of course, pleasing a teenage girl was a lot different than a full-grown woman, as Snape would come to find out. But that would not be for many more years.

In the mean time, he found his third greatest passion: potion making. It was something that he found he was good at, at first, but at the urging of Lucius and Lucius's father, Snape had delved into the study even deeper, learning concoctions by heart that Lucius said would be pertinent very soon.

When Severus graduated from Hogwarts, he was ready to apprentice under the greatest Potions Master of the time, but he was also ready for something else. Lucius and his own father had been keeping him apprised of a fellow named Lord Voldemort, a man who sought to purge the Wizarding World of impurity by waging a war against the Mudbloods. Severus was incapable of saying no, after all that Lucius had done for him, and after letting his father down year after year by not making the Quidditch team. Lord Voldemort would need a great Potions Master on his side, Lucius had said. It was an honor to be invited, his father had said. The Dark Lord had spoken Severus's name to Lucius personally, and wished to meet the young man who had found so many followers by making friends with their daughters. Voldemort, according to his father, had been very impressed by Severus.

Severus was pleased at the attention, and was brought before Lord Voldemort himself, bowing lowly before the great man. The Dark Lord began his speech by complimenting Severus on fortifying his ranks with Purebloods who would vanquish the impurities in the Wizarding World. They were loyal followers, and he was sure that Severus would be as well.

How could he say no to such an offer? Acceptance. Family. Friendship. They would all be all of those things to each other. As one force, they would unite and conquer the world!

Severus was never quite sure when exactly it was that he grew tired of his decision. Perhaps it was the seven hundred and thirtieth time that Voldemort reminded him that he could not go and fight, that his hands were too valuable to put into danger. Perhaps it was the eight thousandth potion he was told to brew without so much as a thank you or a well done when it was finished.

Perhaps it was when he realized that at the age of twenty, he no longer had an appetite for sexual relationships. All the women looked the same now. All the potions seemed the same now. Every day melted into the next and every hour brought him one step closer to despair.

Always a boy of a melancholy disposition, he had turned into a moody man with moments of great sorrow and depression that would leave him close to suicide.

Then he heard about the attacks. Not the ones on the Mudbloods, but the ones on the Purebloods. He asked Lucius if this was true-weren't they only supposed to kill those who defiled Wizard Blood? Lucius explained that the Purebloods who were being exterminated for standing out against the Dark Lord. Weasleys, Potters, Longbottoms, Bulstrodes, anyone who would not join Voldemort was being "exterminated", as Lucius put it.

But the last straw was when his father, growing old and a bit weak from a long battle, was Crucio'd by the Dark Lord, and died in the middle of his writhing. The Dark Lord stared straight into Severus's eyes as he killed Tetricus Snape. He laughed at the shocked look on the son's face.

"Get used to it, my beautiful Severus," Voldemort hissed. "You have always been the one I was after, anyway. He was standing in your way and my way. He was expendable."

Severus watched, stricken, as the Dark Lord stalked from the room, his black robes billowing behind him.

"See that you're not next," Bella whispered.

Severus returned to his family home and told his mother. He would always contend that the grief killed her.

At twenty years old, Severus found himself an orphan with no future and a searing "Dark Mark" on his arm that he was told would never go away.

Two days after his mother's funeral, Severus received an Owl from Albus Dumbledore, now Headmaster at Hogwarts. He wanted Severus to take the Potions Master position, and be head of Slytherin house.

In a moment of sheer stupidity, weakness, or great wisdom and foresight, Severus went directly to Dumbledore and told him everything, tears flowing down his face as though he were six years old once more.

"As I see it, you have two choices," Albus said quietly, moving his chair closer to Severus. "You can either go on as you have been, and be killed by Riddle-his true name, Severus-or you can come here and make yourself very useful to both Riddle and me."

Severus looked up into a pair of sparkling blue eyes and felt his doom. "How do you mean?"

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and pressed his fingertips together. "Bring Riddle the letter I sent you, and see what he says. If I know him well enough, he will be pleased to have you here, and will expect you to spy on my every day activities."

With a sense of foreboding, Severus listened as Dumbledore outlined his proposal. He knew that he had no choice, and he certainly knew that he could not go back to Voldemort now, after all that had happened, and have everything be the same. He had no choice but to change, no choice but to concede to Dumbledore.

His training to become a spy had been difficult, but he mastered the art of Occlumency quickly, and began his task for Dumbledore, hopeful that he could succeed.

Severus began to give misinformation to the Dark Lord, information that Dumbledore had told him to give. After the second attack against Dumbledore's force, The Order of the Phoenex, as they called themselves, Voldemort had punished Severus severely. Crucio was something that he had given, but not something he had ever experienced. Within seconds, Severus was writhing in the worst pain of his life, begging for death to take him. The Dark Lord had no patience for a sniveling coward who could not take his punishment.

Voldemort did not extend the punishment for too long. Severus's potions were still the best he had ever seen, and he was unwilling to risk nerve damage. Severus was given a warning to bring better information the next time, and Albus, out of pity, feigned a defeat in order to keep Severus in good standing with "Riddle", as he called him.

It did no good. Severus fell into a deep depression, hardly bathing, caring nothing for his appearance or for food. He took no pleasure in life, and teaching potions to half-witted students was greater torture than any Crucio he could feel. Bottling medicinal potions for Madam Pomfrey as well as Voldemort also became a chore. What did he care if a new use was found for thistle milk? It was a routine, it was his life, and he saw no end for himself but death.

And yet he could never quite bring himself to the end he so desired. Realizing that he was too much of a coward to commit suicide caused him to become even more depressed, and he began to take out his frustrations on his silly students. Making them suffer was almost a joy to him, it was almost enough to make his life seem worthwhile.

Almost, but not quite.

Severus was still not allowed to fight for his lord, but he found that he was rather contented over that, especially considering the wounds he would be forced to heal on his fellow Death Eaters, as Voldemort called them. He was also not allowed to attend the meetings that Albus held in a secret location. No one was to know what Severus was, nor his position in the war. This became especially important when Albus discovered a "spring in his well", as he said it. Different information was being taken to Voldemort from someone other than Severus, and Severus was the one who began to suffer for it.

He could not argue with the Dark Lord that he only passed on the information that he picked up from Dumbledore, the Dark Lord did not care to hear excuses.

In an act of self-preservation, Severus gave true information to the Dark Lord, and because of it, the Longbottoms were driven to insanity by Bellatrix. She even came to thank him for the chance to perform the experiment when it was over.

The morning that Severus awoke without a Dark Mark marring the white flesh of his arm, he was called to Dumbledore's office, expecting to find a triumphant Albus, full of happy energy and plenty of twinkle. What he found was a dejected man, shaking his head and grieving. The Potters had died, sacrificing themselves to save their son, Harry. Voldemort's curse had backfired, and since there was no love lost between Potter and himself, Severus congratulated himself and Albus for a job well done. The madman was gone, and they could all go back to their normal lives.

For a moment, it was almost like he was seven-years-old again, back on his first broom, riding through the snow and wind. But like all moments, it ended as quickly as it began, and Dumbledore explained that he doubted Voldemort's complete demise. He would return, Albus was sure of it!

When Severus heard that it was Black who had betrayed Potter, it had been both easy to believe and a small triumph in his mind. Bloody Potter and Black, always making his life miserable, thick as thieves, they were. He would smirk when he would think of the look on James's face when he saw that it was Black who had turned on him, his dearest friend who wished him dead.

It would be hard for him to believe, even years after he discovered that it had been Pettigrew, that Black had not been the one to turn coat. He had allowed the balm of Black's treachery soothe his wounded soul for so many years, it was better to continue to believe that Black was exactly who he wanted him to be.

The truth cut like a knife, wounding him freshly, bringing back all of the hated memories he had tried so hard to bury. Harry Potter was loved just as much, if not more, than his father had been, and his friends were just as true and thick as Potter's had been. How dare the boy be happy when he had everything going against him?

At the return of the Dark Lord, Severus had resumed his old job, spying for Dumbledore and feeding misinformation to Voldemort. This time, however, he did not have another spy to counter; he was the only one.

This time, however, he did not hold out any hope that Potter would complete his task. He felt that Voldemort would continue to live, and that he himself would continue to merely exist without living.

When Potter was successful in his seventh year, Severus locked himself in his rooms for days without emerging, afraid that it was all a dream or misinformation. In that time, instead of his sorrow lessening, it increased.

No longer useful as anything but a Potion's Master, Severus was faced with the fact that he had spent his entire life looking for acceptance from others, his father included, that he completely lost himself along the way. He no longer had dreams or aspirations, and the feelings that his seven-year-old self had felt while learning to fly seemed like an imitation of life, a dream and nothing more.

He was unaware of his appearance in the following weeks, but his students kept even farther away from him than usual, as did the other professors. Eventually, Dumbledore called him into his office and held up a mirror.

The face, his face, looked like a ghost. Bloodshot eyes poking out behind a curtain of greasy hair and a white protruding nose were all he could see, the rest of his face had sunken into oblivion, swallowed up by his beard.

"You're killing yourself," Albus said gently.

The reflection twitched a little in acknowledgement to the words, but the corporeal body made no attempt to reply.

"If any man in the world had cause to celebrate, Severus, it is you. I cannot force you to care for yourself, but you must do something, or you will die."

Severus was left to think about his choices. In the morning, he arose from bed and stepped into his shower. The pipes groaned a bit, having not been used for several weeks, and the water at first was a bit rusty. A bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap later, Severus stepped out of the shower and set to work on the tangles and gnarls that had worked themselves into his hair from poor grooming, and ended up removing most of them with his wand. It was still long enough to pull back as he set to work on his beard, trimming it carefully before taking up his straight-edge and cutting the follicles from his face and neck.

In his wardrobe, he found a clean robe and went to the Great Hall for breakfast where Minerva greeted him with a smile, tears in her eyes. She confessed that she thought they had lost him completely. When she squeezed his hand gently under the table, he looked at her in wonder, unable to comprehend that she would be happy to see him again.

After all, he'd outlasted his usefulness. What could she possibly want to see him for if he had nothing else to offer her?

The remainder of the day had been just as baffling. All of the professors, and even a few of the students, had told him how good it was to see him feeling better again.

In the following weeks, he managed to write off most of the compliments and wishes for good health. After all, there was always a chance he would be needed again, wasn't there? He was sure that this was the reason.

Minerva and Miss Granger, however, still puzzled him. He could see no duplicity in either of them, simply a hope for good health. Minerva gave him a pudding for Christmas. Miss Granger knitted him a brand-new Slytherin scarf without tassels, as she noted that his old one looked a bit worn, and not quite sufficient to keep him well in the cold winter months.

The pudding was eaten in due course, but the scarf remained in his wardrobe, to be worn only in the safety of his rooms where no one could see it, especially not her.

Spring came with a breath of fresh air, and Snape ordered a new set of robes as his old ones were growing a bit too tight in the midriff. It was an occurrence that Albus particularly remarked on when the package from Gladrags, the robe maker in Hogsmeade arrived one morning. Severus said nothing, merely took his package and went to change in his dungeon before his first class.

But it was all a façade. Albus expected him to take better care of his appearance and eat more. He did. That did not mean that his life had a purpose or meaning.

"You want me to do what?"

"I want you to go see Madam Rosmerta in Hogsmeade."

Severus was baffled. "Why?" Inwardly, a voice was telling him that he should simply be happy to be useful once more. Another voice began to argue that he was just being used again, and that Severus would fall into even more of a depression at the end of it. The first voice was that of a small boy, eager for acceptance. The second was that of a bitter old mad, aware of his own redundancy.

Which one was he?

"Severus, were it not a matter of supreme importance, I would never ask it of you, but I do not trust owls at this moment, and the Floo network is still being watched. If you take a broom, you shouldn't be gone more than five minutes or so."

That was how he found himself on Xiamora Hooch's broom, flying through the night sky, the wind whipping at his hair and stinging his eyes. Having delivered the package to Madam Rosmerta, he found himself enjoying the freedom he suddenly felt. All of the Quidditch games from his childhood came back to his remembrance, the moves he would watch his heroes make, and the first time he ever tried one. It was a basic move, just a simple spin, but he had done it.

Severus looked down to make sure that no one was lurking around the grounds, and began to pick up speed, racing to catch the moon and bypassing it before directing his broom upward, ascending towards the stars, eager to catch them in his hands.

He was at one with his broom, he could feel it vibrate between his legs as he pushed it to perform even more, and a laugh escaped his throat, a sound that was so incredibly foreign to him that he pushed on even faster to escape the sounds of his own joy.

Rising high into the atmosphere, Severus saw the castle below him looking small and toy-like. He wondered if he could still dive and then pull up at the last minute, just like that famous Quidditch player. What was his name? Severus decided that he didn't care, and went plummeting towards the earth at breakneck speed, only to avoid crashing at the last second.

Oh! It was marvelous! The years melted away as he lifted once again towards the Astronomy Tower, where he would land and then go directly to Dumbledore's office. That would have been exactly what he would have done, too, had not he spied a bushy-haired student standing in a crevasse in the tower.

"Miss Granger," He demanded. "What in all the circles of Dante's Hell are you doing crawling through the wall at the top of the Astronomy Tower at midnight!" Her surprised look was priceless. She had been watching him, he knew, but until this second, he did not know that she had been unaware that it was him she was watching.

Snape smirked when Miss Granger jerked upwards, as if to stand at attention, but his smile faded when her head made hard enough contact with the stone above her to send out a resounding "Crack" in the windy night.

It was inevitable that her hand would move to her injury, but he was not prepared for her to let go of the castle all together. He wondered for a moment if she was truly hurt or only superficially. "Professor Snape, you fly beautifully," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear it before she toppled over and began to fall down the tower.

In a trice, Snape pulled out his wand and shouted, "Immobulus!" as he swooped down to intercept her lifeless body.

TBC

What? It's not an evil cliffie! Sort of.

Hello, good morning, how ya do?

What makes your rising sun so new?

I could use a fresh beginning too

All of my regrets are nothing new

So this is the way

that I say that I need You

This is the way

This is the way

That I'm learning to breathe

I'm learning to crawl

I'm finding that You and

You alone can break my fall

I'm living again, awake and alive

I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies

Hello, good morning, how ya been?

Yesterday left my head kicked in

I never thought I could fall like that

Never knew that I could hurt this bad

I'm learning to breathe

I'm learning to crawl

I'm finding that You and

You alone can break my fall

I'm living again, awake and alive

I'm dying to breathe in these abundant skies

So this is the way

that I say that I need You

This is the way

That I say I love You

This is the way

That I say I'm Yours

This is the way

This is the way

~Learning To Breathe-Switchfoot