Inside Out
Chapter 1: Inside Out
"As long as hope survive,
..I'll stay alive"
On the creaking floor that once nearly witnessed death, a gloomy dim ray slunk befalling on the silhouette of a head. A hollow shell of flesh seen clasped to its boards. Sprawled on the hard wood in a heap of clothes, but perfecting the sight of a sleeping beauty, mangling its meaning of warmth and relaxation to cold mannequin-ed stiffness. Hauntingly still, the man's head luxuriously lay on a crimsoned flat pillow made from his own puddle of blood.
Dust sprinkled on everything, every furnished piece on the ground was broken, dis-repaired or under debris. Between them, he was a recent intrusion, but just as much discarded as them, he looked like he has been there for centuries. Forgotten unintentionally.
Much to defy the certainty of his perishing, there was a bulb of life hidden deep and parallel to his outer shell of non-existent, sheltered from notice, very alive in the dead looking scene.
Nothing he was doing made his heart beat alive and wild, screeching at the world its joy to be hammering against its owner's chest. He was not intending to kill it or wanted to-- either. Maybe he tried, but not truthfully enough- For it wasn't yet dead, dry or withering.. by his will.
Still.
It was so slow- unnoticeable for the untrained sense of detection. Slow and o so steady, beating with one note, one informative Morse code bearing the only thing he relayed his existence on.
His eyes were opened, looking about him wearily, nothing was fathomable. There were times he almost believed he was staring behind his black eyes, but when he tries to make sure of what he saw; his sight wound forward, back to permit him to detect blurred outlines of things.
A crippling feel of dull throbs in his dry lips rose. Furiously the throbs elevated blood to its greying colour, it crossed him almost painfully, when he barely comprehended it. So vividly throbbing, as if it's about to prompts his lips to crack open and bleed.
Surely, he was in an extremely bad position. Something had happened, but he could not bring himself to be alarmed as he usually would be. Probably because of the absence of any recent memory to help him recollect himself. His body is so numb, it was mortifying. For him to just register every organ and where it was; the effort of it might have torn him apart with pain. They delayed responding to him that it desperately ached in his very soul, stinging the ends where it connected with his limbs.
Sprang to life, his fingers suddenly answered his repeated demand to move; achieving a miracle. His pale fingers shivered as the colour rushed rapidly back to their tips. The rest of his body followed. One by one each part reacting to the sudden life gouging through and in it, every tip shuddered.
With them all alert once more, a storm erupted in his head. Buzzing-- shrieking whistles, mistranslated bounding of pain and violent spasms all shot up like fireworks invading his body, ended to explode in his brain. Every nerve raged to inform him where it was aching.
Consumed, head clouded, overloaded with the striking thunders of agony, he couldn't tell what's hurting him anymore. His inner grip to move has snapped loose, the pulsing ache after it was easing gradually, as his effort to hold on ceased.
He felt his soul return to swim inside him aimlessly, edging nearer to completely drift back to the void of total nothingness.
⚜•⚜•⚜
Incantation reached his hearing, reached his conscious even before he identified it with his ears. It had travelled randomly, came vibrating straight to him, like through liquid. It ripped apart the silent emptiness that was engulfing him, by mere sensible force...
"..Let me rest.." He groaned the words in his mind like a sleeper disturbed from his comfort, but his lips did do nothing... To his dismay, there was another reaction to pain, again, attacking him mercilessly. This time, accompanied by white flashes of light, rippling toward him. So much light it pierced the privacy of his eyelids. It filled him with confusion, sickly overwhelming him. But instead of fading away after few seconds of resistance, it grew hotter-- raising in degree until he felt (at some point) his chest will split open- releasing his insane running heart, fueled with fire. It was as if he was being pulled out forcibly from his state of collapsing.
It didn't stop there; his throat was clenching, suddenly he couldn't breathe-- the air was escaping his lungs on one straight unbreakable exhale.
...He was screaming.
Like he never did or knew he could before, but there was no chance to tell if he could, with no vocal sound to come out. Instead, he heard weak crackling squeeze of a voice, small pitiful squeals escaping with the air that was passing his mouth, and when it finally ended, his lungs were emptied, ghastly making him draw a sharp shaky breath. His eyes shot open wide, stung, and started to water.
Awaken.
Fighting the tears in his eyes; he looked frantically around every corner he can turn his eyes with his inability to move his head. Every blink to clear his vision promising to pull him back to the empty liquidated darkness. His breath racing with his burning heart beats; the world was finally materialising around his physical being. He sensed his head supported, for it was being lifted slightly upward from the freezing ground. He spoke, but his breath got caught in his throat; ragged, uncontrollable and raspy. The hand under his head trembled in response but was firm. He heard its owner's voice shout breathlessly to unseen figures "H- he's alive! He's alive, quick!!" The face of the hand was prodded above him, coming to his view.
His eyes widened in recognition.
He tried to steady his choking breath, trying to say something, nothing came out but a dry squeal, his lips quivered the like of a word, but it went unnoticed. He felt the air drawn into him through unnatural way beside his nose and mouth (now his breath is slowed).. It was slashing the right side of his neck; the cool air swept over his skin entering his throat directly, then hot one blowing back out. A powerful jolt arched his spine up as he received the realisation late, it damn hurt, he squinted to the searing pain. " ..stay with me. You'll be alright..! please! " wavered the voice above him with helplessness, he felt the speaker's warm breath wash over his face, and then.. the world snatched itself back from existing around him.
Silence ruled again.
⚜•⚜•⚜
Three hundred million years had passed just in one blink, it seemed. The long-shorted wait did not have any distractions, such as lucid dreams to falter its steady flow of emptiness. However, it offered what he would have dreamt about anyway. Something he desired so much that his mere need had conjured a possibility by its own accords; a glimpse of what he was sure it was the reality-- flashed in front of his mind's eyes.. Or his own eyes, he couldn't tell the difference. But what made him sure it was real, is the way all of his bodily senses seems to be engaged and present in those real moments, unlike in others he was thinking of or wanting to see, he was surreally detached from them.
For a mysterious reason, maybe after spotting the face-- he wanted to know what's going on outside his head at any cost..
...A firm grip on his shoulders.
...Panicked hurried sounds, people's and furniture's movements.
...He was hovering, his clothes wet and icy cold against his skin and was in the face of a rushing breeze.
...Many bony arms plastered underneath his back.
...The ground was trying to pull him downwards to its grasp, he 'weighed a ton'.
...Feet were dangling from the heavens, robes floating around their ankles.
...A reassuring pressing pressure on another living being..
...The sky was glittering back at him then- sprinted sideways.
He closed his eyes, unable to force them open or process anything he was seeing properly. Welcoming warmth drawing into him provided by the chest his head leant on, he heard a heart scattering within it, beating with fright, he would felt it nudging his cheek from how forceful it sounded, he was very familiar with its rhythm.. he pitied it.
Things got fuzzier to be made sense of, now that he can feel the beat in his neck slowing. With it, everything else also played in slow motion-- in his head, only the beat of his own heart was against his ears, deafening him to anything else. It thumped slower, thrillingly terrifying was the silence between the thumps; not hearing the next one until it suddenly sounded for a brief relief.
There's no fighting it anymore, he accepted.
He's going to die any second now, only.. if he wasn't already..
Even with the numbing fatigue swallowing him-- he was able to have a fleeting curiosity. He wondered; why his heart sounded like two sets of drums? One was struggling to pulse, and the other beaten steady if not-- too fast.
So loud, it beat. Huffing on the fog of numbness, bringing back the after taste of pain, sharpening his awareness by an ounce a second. He was becoming irritated. The inconsistency of the sounds was unbearable to his liking of the quite and the calm. It was disturbing the illusion that was protecting him from pain. He tried to block the louder beat but to no avail. It was getting higher in volume still. More, he noticed, when the weak beat lowered and went further into the background.. He summoned it back; when he did- the louder beats dropped significantly. He aimed to match the two sounds with one another and he felt, he had the control over the faded one, speeding it to sidled with the fierce one.
"...Professor! Do you hear me? Professor Snape! Please wake up! We're nearly there!
W- what?
....NO!
WAKE UP!
.... SIR!!
Ajijia!!"
So many shouts directed at him, some carrying his name, popping like stars around and in front of his blinded eyes. 'Till the like of an illuminated feel of a hand surged inside him, pushing back his vision, pushing him.. Into himself.
His eyes were opened, but now fluttering in response, glaring weakly at the tremendous noise someone was making near his ear. Strangely he had the urge to silence them, to scold them harshly on their savage treatment as his usual tendency. The face he saw helped reinforce that urge, but with more of a maternal solace.
".. Potter" he managed to mouth with a little frown. Very aware of his drained state, and of a hand gripping the side of his neck tight enough that, he feels its fast pulse against his slow one. " Professor! " cried Harry breathlessly, ashen faced and distorted. "It's all over professor! He's gone- Voldemort is gone!" The words tumbled out from his lips as he staggered to keep a hold on his neck. Snape blinked, his ragged breath hastened. So many things rushed to surface in his mind, thoughts he didn't or did not have the power to box away, his brain's gears spinning rusty slow. He slowly perceived the possibility of that statement, and what must have taken to achieve it. He was finally impressed; staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. Standing right next to him-- taller than usual. Harry still lives, even with the knowledge that he'll be slaughtered. He rested his eyes shut, his lips twitched into the like of a grimaced half smile, feeling a hint of pride, acknowledging what Harry must have had done- and wondered how he done it, but he was in a panicked state to notice his face.
At the end of his conclusion, unfortunately; the informal moment of glory was short-lived, a bitter grief clawed suddenly down on everything that preceded it.
...There is no need for his life to remain.
⚜•⚜•⚜
He was being lowered on a warm surface, Harry's hand still glued to his neck. He was waiting for his hand to be swept away but Madam Pomfrey shakily instructed Harry to keep pressure while she got what she needs to mend him. Snape was uncomfortably aware of Harry's present, so close to him with his warmth, weight and fidgeting movements. He didn't dwell on it very much because soon he was struggling to maintain conscious, he knew the poison must be flowing steadily in him, eating at his inside like lava. Harry's gaze never wavered from his face, his wand was spouting a faint line of curling glow, the end of it connected with Snape.
"Don't die... Stay with us.. Please don't let go.. You can't leave... Not like this... I won't let you die.. Not if I can help it" he heard Harry's words, chanted in a whisper near his ear. Snape's fingers convulsed on the sheets in shock. He opened his heavy eyelids to direct his eyes to meet Harry's. Harry's gaze was fixed on the hand he placed on Snape but was unfocused, his knuckles pale clasped around the handle of his dark wand, from its tip issuing the glow... It propitiously felt like Harry was using his own soul to repel Snape's from seeping out of him. Ramming head first to it, breaking the self-inflicted chains that bonded it from many things– being free to show it for one. Their collision sparked Snape's soul with the raw formless emotions Harry's soul carried; protection, love, nobility, honesty, forgiveness, remorse, empathy, righteousness and bravery. Charged bravery roaring and rung the loudest, shaking his soul to its core.. he was beyond moved- he was beaming inside. Harry's soul matched exactly the one he gave his life to protect, so long ago. The one soul that taught him, guided him and did not recoil away from his. It sewed the splint of unwilling deeds he had to perform, right where their souls touched.
...how much he would give to feel this way a third time.
The weight of his head sagged to the hand supporting it, making it slung lower down his neck. Enabling him to look up directly into Harry's eyes- but now they were closed.
Snape's expression was rigid yet relaxed. He gazed defectively around- only Harry was by his side, two figures had their back to him fumbling, assumingly helping the Mediwitch.
By the looks of it, Harry didn't know he was doing any of it, not even that he was casting a spell on Snape. No one noticed anything– no one even seemed to see the flowing glittering spell smoking out of Harry's wand, or the soft glow it radiated. Which affirmed Snape's theory about what is happening... He was chanting a preservation charm.
..But why?
Empowered enough; Snape tried to speak up, his wheezing voice wasn't high enough to be heard, and not before a sudden loud commotion happened, making Harry look up, distracted. Snape gritted his teeth painfully, half irritated- half enduring the stabbing pain that was stirred by his attempt to speak. This boy has the poorest forms of attention, he thought angrily. But then he spotted darken shapes moving about, tuned to be his colleagues as they drew nearer, swooping down the row of beds to line up around him. Professor McGonagall was clearest in the lead. When she saw him, she gave a soft cry muffled by her hand " Severus ..!" Her eyes started to glow but managed to gain control over them. As she drew tentatively nearer, Snape let his eyelids fall lower seemingly shut, everything was getting misshapen to see, but in sincerity, he couldn't withstand to look at her. If he did, he'll have to feel too much. Too much to be moved by while he's trying to hold on to the life thread that keeps thinning. He didn't know why he was holding on so aggressively, her appearance made him feel he wanted to be smothered and die.
The liquidated darkness swirled drawing itself in front of his vision, and something like hands slid tapping the sides of his face, stifling anything passing his ears.
Harry's hand was the only vibrantly clear sensation he could detect. But now, it was parting with his wound, gently. The cold air resting on his wound after it was gone set his exposed nerves on fire.
Someone was patting it with something, even more burning. And as they did, the hole in his throat was tightening so much he couldn't breathe. He seemed to forget what part of him he used to breathe. The pressure on his chest build tight enough it parted his lips instinctively to drink a gulp of air. But instead of air, something cold gushed to fill his mouth, was tipped into it by a glass vial that clinked when his teeth bit on it. A thick sliding moistness was sloshing down his throat. He couldn't swallow it, it wouldn't down but stayed in there, having the feel of jelly substance-- not at all blocking his airway. Another douse quickly followed it-- tipped into his mouth.
This one shot inside him hotly fast, like a shooting fire-bolt in his veins zigzagging in his bodily corridors, filling him whole. Everything was tingling in him for a moment, then... As if someone turned him off in a flick; he felt nothing, heard nothing, seen or thought or knew anything, anymore.