Severus is His Name, Brewing Potions is His Game
Severus Snape grumbles to himself as he strides alongside a few of his fellow Order members down a narrow cobblestone road, positively seething at being dragged into another one of Albus’s mysterious missions with not a single word of what they might encounter. Ever-thickening clouds of ash and smoke as they presumably draw closer to their destination serve as a clear indicator that they are headed for trouble. As if I should expect anything less, Severus huffs internally. The fact that both Kingsley and Alastair were invited on this spontaneous trek also did not bode well in Severus’s mind, making his wand hand tense reflexively.
“I’ve always wanted to visit Italy,” Remus chirps from Severus’s left, breaking the eerie silence. “Such a romantic place.”
Severus rolls his eyes, not deigning to glance in the wolf’s direction. “Yes, nothing sets a mood quite like the stench of burning buildings.”
“Oi, hush it!” Alastair snaps, his glass eye swiveling ahead of them even as he whips his head around to glare at the two.
Severus gives a sharp nod to Alastair in response, but his scowl deepens as he catches Albus’s faint chuckle just up ahead. Batty old man.
They round a bend in the road, coming to a stop just at the edge of a small, empty square. An old stone church smolders before them, tongues of flame having burst from every window and left gaping, black mouths still belching roiling clouds of smoke. Severus scans the scene quietly for a few moments, his wand slipping into his grasp from his sleeve, but nothing save for a faint breeze disturbs the square.
Severus steps closer to the headmaster standing ahead of them. “What are we to do, Albus?” He asks quietly.
The old man continues to survey the scene, seemingly ignoring the inquiry. Severus grits his teeth in attempt to retain his waning patience.
Finally, Albus turns his head to the group, a signature sparkle lighting his blue gaze. “It’ll only be a minute now, I’m certain,” he replies with a wink.
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
Severus glares at the site of ruins, contemplating just apparating the hell out of there when a whining screech of metal pierces the stillness. They each spring into a ready stance, wands before them. Suddenly, the large wooden door of the church bursts from its hinges and scuttles along the cobblestones before landing with a solid thwack across the square. Severus peers into the doorway, his eyes widening as a small figure begins to take shape from the shroud of smoke.
“Wands down, gentlemen.” The headmaster orders, shuffling forward a few paces.
Severus lowers his wand but keeps a tight grip as he watches a young woman stumble forward and stops a few feet before them. A tangled mane of dark hair snakes around her bare shoulders with the breeze, a bloodied and blackened smock one could scarcely tell must have once been white hanging from her shaking form. Her gaze flits around the square unseeing as she grips her wand with surprising steadiness given her current condition.
They wait for Albus’s lead as to how to respond, but the urge to aid the girl slices through the equal measures of apprehension and confusion warring within Severus’s thoughts. He watches as the girl tips her head back, eyes flitting to the sky, and lets out a haunted sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob that snatches the breath from Severus’s lungs. Her eyes slip closed and tears track clean lines through the blood and soot smearing her cheeks.
“Miss Fayne?” Albus questions somberly.
Her gaze snaps down to meet the headmaster’s gaze, alarmingly alert compared to her formerly dazed state. Severus stiffens, readying to draw up his wand as soon as his mind makes up whether the creature before him is a damsel or a demon.
A small smile lifts the corners of her lips, a strange contrast against the anguish in her gaze. “Albus,” she breathes in a relieved tone. “I thought I might be seeing you soon.”
Severus dashes forward as she heaves a gasp and sways backwards, barely catching hold of her arms before she can crumple to the ground. He hefts her up with one arm and sweeps up her legs with the other, cradling her firmly against his chest before turning to Dumbledore with a questioning brow.
The headmaster chuckles, shaking his head. “A strange introduction, to be sure.”
“Well don’t dawdle,” Alistair barks to Kingsley and Remus, leading the way into the church. “Let’s clear the area. Quickly now, before there’s nothing left!”
Albus gives a good-natured smile to Severus as he approaches, whose typical scowl begins to form. As if this is a perfectly normal Sunday afternoon, old man!
“Good work, my boy!” Albus praises, clapping a hand to Severus’s shoulder. “Now I think a visit to Poppy is in order, yes? Off you go!”
Severus barely manages to roll his eyes before the suction of apparation threatens to pluck them from his head.
In an instant, the gates of Hogwarts are looming before him. Breezing through the wards, he sets a quick stride to the hospital wing. He glances down curiously at the yet-to-be-determined creature nestled in his arms. Her eyelids begin to flutter, and he soon meets the gaze of two mossy eyes peering hazily into his own.
“Its alright, Miss Fayne,” he soothes in a low, smooth voice before he can stop himself. “You’re safe here.”
A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth, her eyes blinking languidly as she struggles to keep them open. “Am I?” She murmurs. Her voice is raspy from the fire but distinctly American, he notes. Interesting. “That voice sounds like trouble to me.”
His jaw drops, a shocked expression flitting across his face, before he snaps it closed and jerks his head forward. He presses his lips into a thin line.
Damsel… or demon?