
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1736837.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Character:
      Severus_Snape, Harry_Potter, Hermione_Granger, Ron_Weasley, Draco_Malfoy,
      Albus_Dumbledore, Minerva_McGonagall, Quirinus_Quirrell, Rubeus_Hagrid,
      Tracey_Davis, Daphne_Greengrass, Pansy_Parkinson, Sorting_Hat
  Additional Tags:
      OC, Child_Abuse, Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, It_Gets_Better, Learning_how_to
      be_a_real_child, Snape_is_a_good_man, Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-
      PTSD, Nightmares, Flashbacks
  Series:
      Part 1 of Valentine's_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-03 Updated: 2015-04-11 Chapters: 3/? Words: 13002
****** Warmth Finds Reality ******
by Elzbun
Summary
     Valentine had accepted at a young age that she probably wouldn't live
     to become a teenager. She didn't even know how she'd survived as long
     as she had.
     But her whole world and her expectations are thrown upside down when
     she is rescued by a man claiming to be a wizard and teacher at a
     magical school, and that she herself is a witch.
     Now Valentine has to not only learn about this magical world she's
     been shoved face first into, but has to learn, and quickly, how to be
     a normal child, a task proven more difficult than it seems.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     Okay, this first chapter….well it's not very nice, and I will put a
     warning sign like this:
     ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
     For, you know. Safety. Although I DID tag it so....if you're shocked
     you clearly have not been paying attention.
     This is probably the most....scarring chapter. So don't think the
     mental screaming carries on because it doesn't. Although dreams are
     an excuse to be as fucked up as possible but those don't count okay
     they don't!
     Un-beta'd. So you know. Its always a gamble with a dyslexic writing
     so say if you notice mistakes!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                                        
Ground drained of colour and warmth. As far as the sky can see. White against
black overhead, never ending. The frozen winding trail of what should normally
have been a river seems to have carved its way through the never ending white,
like a snake in the sand. Along the trail of this snake in the snow you’d be
able to see various spots of light. Lights of a civilization, no matter how
small it seemed, it certainly was a change from the surrounding landscape. It
was Warmth. Alive.
On the edge of one of the many small villages, on the little the banks of the
river, was a popular tavern. In fact, it was the only one for miles around. Of
course it was popular. What’s second best to a fire to warm you? Liquor. On
this night, the occupants of the bar where particularly rowdy, their drunken
songs and jeers almost shaking the small rickety building.
Inside the building, it was a typical alcohol influenced scene, no matter what
country one was in. On the right side of the room was a wooden bar, packed with
men huddled in their dark thick costs, perched quite precariously on bar
stools. The room was filled with the smoke of cigars, the stench being enough
to make ones eyes water upon entering the room.The only thing that was
noticeably different from what would be considered normal from an outsiders
point of view was the occasional glimpse of golden hair from between the large
mass of bodies. The owner of the hair was tiny, even while standing up you
would be lucky to get a glance at the child at which adorned the pale locks.
Her existence was simply a rumour outside of the tavern. She had never been
seen outside of it, only seen by the frequents of the tavern. Some people in
the towns say she’s a myth, others a street child or some…a ghost of a dead
infant. She particularly liked that last rumour. To not been seen…what a joy
that talent would be. As the child was zipping back and forth between the bar
and the faithful customers, delivering drinks and taking orders and
instructions one of the tables took note of the child.
“девушка (Girl)!” One of the two men barked when she was in hearing range, over
the noise in the room. She hurried over to where she was summoned, having
delivered the glasses to their destination on another table.
The two men sat around the round wooden table, both staring at the girl with
keen interest.
“Мой, что мало, что вы есть!” (My, what a little thing you are!) The rugged
looking man on the left said, leaning forward to expect her more closely. As
the girl took in their faces, she realized they were new, which make her
insides cold with worry. Regulars she could handle, but new comers? They where
a different matter entirely. They didn’t know the rules…regulars knew not to
stare at her too closely… not to touch her…these men did not. But she stared at
the floor dutifully. She was a good girl.
She was small thing, even for her age of ten, standing at only 4 foot 7, not to
mention her small under nourished frame. “Посмотрите на меня ребенка.” (Look at
me child.) The man spoke again, taking her jaw into his rough grip. She bit her
lip from crying out in a panic. Both the men’s eyes widened as they got a clear
view of the child’s dirt smudgedface. Large caramel eyes, even in the dim light
seemed to glow, stared back at the man anxiously. The man’s dark eyes studied
her face for a moment, before letting go of her chin.
“Сколько тебе лет девочка??” (How old are you girl?)
“десять…” (Ten…) The man grinned and grabbed her wrist, his whole hand being
able to wrap around her wrist. She dropped the tray that was in her other hand
in surprise. She struggled against the mans grip but it proved pointless, as he
was so much stronger then her.
“Тише ребенок! Там нет необходимости пугаться, мы просто хотим, чтобы играть.”
(Hush child! There's no need to be frightened, we just want to play.)
“Н-нет - п-пожалуйста! Вы с-не могу!” (N-no—p-please! You c-can’t!) She
struggled harder, breath coming out faster and the fear set in. They were in
the dark shaded corner of the tavern, no one was looking. No one would see. The
men both laughed at her feeble struggles.
“Я не могу? Разве так говорить с ценного клиента? Тогда придите. Подавать
меня.” (I can't? Is that any way to talk to a valuable customer? Come now.
Serve me.) His heavy hand rested on her ribcage, trying to tug her closer, and
it was working despite her efforts.
“П-пожалуйста ...” (P-please…) She cried tearfully.
Suddenly a hand came down onto that of the customer, the mans eyes snapping up
to stare at the looming figure over her shoulder. Her senses were drenched in
ice-cold fear, her body suddenly feeling numb.
There was a click and the room fell silent. Master held his weapon in his hand,
the barrel mere inches at the head of the customer. The customers face went
from anger to fear in a second and he scrambled back in his chair. The acid
stench of his and his companions fear reached her nose and she tried not to gag
on it.
“оставлять.“ (Leave.) Master said stiffly, dark eyes hard and unwavering. The
two men couldn’t get out fast enough, the rest of the tavern watching on with
knowing eyes. They knew better.
When the two men had left Master lowered the gun and suddenly the sound talk
and conversations resumed in the tavern as though nothing had ever happened. He
took hold of her upper arm in a bruising grip as he turned and started to drag
her across the room.
“Я-я с-жаль-- “ (I-I’m s-sorry--)
“тихо.“ (Quite.) Her mouth closed with a snap, covering her mouth with her
other had as tears streamed down her face. His grip didn’t loosen, in fact it
tightened even further, and she tried to muffle a whimper in pain. He led her
to the locked storeroom behind the bar, where the stock and various supplies
were kept. He pushed her in there with such force she fell, scraping her hands
and knees. She stayed on the floor, as Master locked the door, and cradled the
bruising print on her forearm, shoulders hunched and eyes on the floor. Master
turned to her, striding over to catch her jaw in his unyielding grip, yanking
her face up to face him.
“До. “ (Up.) Her eyes instantly flew to his, her own teary gaze reflected in
his cold orbs. “Перестань плакать. Вы знаете, как некрасиво это заставляет вас
выглядеть. “ (Stop crying. You know how ugly it makes you look.) She bit her
lip till she tasted blood, trying to stop the stream of salty tears in their
tracks. He studied her face for a moment, before his lip twisted in disgust and
he let go of her jaw roughly.
“Колени. Сейчас.“ (Knees. Now.) She got down stiffly onto her knees on the cold
concrete floor, wincing as a particularly bad bruise on her hip flared with
pain. Master undid his belt, the sharp clacks of metal clanking shockingly loud
in the quite room, the sound of the crowd outside muffled by the heavy concrete
walls. The air was cold and frigid, her breath coming out like white fluffy
clouds.
Master let his trousers drop to the floor. She stared. Hard. Red. Angry.
“---“ (Open.)
He used her mouth until she chocked. 
 
-----------
 
A week had gone by since the new customers had left. Although a few nights ago
a new customer started coming in the evening. He looked like no one she’d ever
seen before. His eyes watched her all night, every night for the past two days.
From the corner of the room, at one of the few booths in the tavern, he sat. He
wasn’t from around here, that much was obvious. His skin was pale, but that
wasn’t so unusual around here. What was strange was how he was dressed, from
head to toe in black, long robe-like clothes. He had shoulder length black
hair, and crooked hooked nose and nighttime coloured eyes. Whenever she walked
past his table she felt something like…a shiver. He never spoke to her, even
when she asked him what he would like for her to get him. He just stared.
When the time finally came for her to come to his table this night, she felt
nervous, his eyes having a certain intenseness this time that the other nights
lacked. She approached his table slowly, stopping just in front of it, holding
the tray and some kind of shield in front of her body.
“Гм ... вы бы хотели что-нибудь выпить, сэр?” (Um…would you like something to
drink, sir?) She asked in a quiet voice. He was holding himself tensely, and
his mouth seemed to be tightly pinched. She waited a few seconds for his reply
before assuming that, like usual, he didn’t want anything. She turned to leave-
-
“Как тебя зовут?” (What is your name?) She stopped short and turned back around
with wide eyes. His voice seemed to have a strange nasal drawl. It was…gentle,
but his accent was odd. He wasn’t from around here; he’s not even Russian.
Alright. She was confused. No one had ever asked her that before, so why now
was this man, who had before never said a word, asking for her name?
“V-Valentine…” She all but whispered, her eyes wide and searching. He nodded.
“Вам здесь нравится??” (Do you like it here?) Valentine hesitated. Why would he
be asking her this? No one had ever asked her that.
She shook her head in answer, staring at the table in front of her, refusing to
meet his eyes. The man rested his arms on the table and leant forward.
“Если бы вы могли, вы бы покинуть это место??” (If you could, would you leave
this place?) She looked up sharply. His eyes held her gaze steadily, studying
her face. All she had ever known was this. She had never thought about what
she’d do if she could leave.
She nodded.
“Я вернусь.” (I will be back.)
He stood up from the table, and Valentine’s mouth gaped open slightly, wanting
desperately to say something, but nothing came out, words would not form. He
was very tall, taller than Master. With one more glance the strange man left.
 
-----------
 
For the past ten years, she had lived in the storage room behind the bar. The
place she slept was a collection of blankets in the far right hand side of the
room, around some of the more permanent storage boxes. She’d liked the smell of
the wood and cotton, draped the blankets around to form a sort of cocoon of
protection from the rest of the cold room. She was curled up into a ball
against the wall, her arms wrapped around her skinny legs, the filthy brown
dress that resembled a sack more than an article of clothing, did nothing to
keep her warm. The only thing that kept it from falling from her tiny shoulders
was a piece of rope tied around her chest, to keep it supported. She shivered,
a tiny tremor running through her body. Her body ached, and although she was
familiar with the pain, it was sharper then usual. Recently Master had been
beating her harder. It had started about two months ago. His pale face had been
darkened with anger as he raged and roared with anger. On that night, he had
beaten her so hard that she had blacked out for the rest of the day. In the
days that followed, she had not been able to move. Now, ever since then, he had
beaten her or used her nearly every night since. It was always some form of
punishment. She had not known why until three days ago. The first night the
dark haired man started turning up.
She had been disposing of the soot and burned out firewood in the fire place,
when she had noticed a piece of paper not fully burned hidden under the grate
the wood sat on, only slightly charred. It had writing on it. Master had
previously that night thrown a bundle of letters into the fire viciously, puce
with anger.
She was not that good at reading, but she’d been taught the basics when she was
little, but she knew enough to recognize her own name. Some of the kinder
patrons of the bar would purposefully leave material behind for her to study or
read to their companions something they found interesting, loud enough for her
to hear.
‘Valentine’ was what was written on the slither of paper. Someone from the
outside world…knew she existed. But apart from the regulars, who knew about
her? And only one person knew her name, and that was Master.
Oh…but that strange man did too…
Her stomach twisted sharply and a sinking feeling settled in her chest, like
dead weight. Master obviously didn’t like those letters…whoever was writing
these…it was causing her to be punished more than she could ever remember. Of
course they couldn’t know what the effect of sending the letters had on her…but
she wanted them to stop…she hoped they stopped…
If she didn’t reply, surely after a period of time they would just give up? She
would have. Either way the whole thing was making her miserable…well…more so
than usual.
 
She stayed curled in a ball for what must have been hours, but sleep did not
come. She stared at her hands; curling and uncurling them, trying to get the
blood flow back into the icy digits. Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep she
imagined she was somewhere else. Somewhere warm. Yes. She liked the warmth.
Somewhere not surrounded by the blankets of endless white, somewhere she wasn’t
trapped. Somewhere happy…where she’d be happy. She wouldn’t hurt, and she
wouldn’t cry…
But it was just a dream. She knew that. She would never be free. She’d never
leave this life, as it was the only one she deserved. She had no talents, no
real use except servicing Master. And she wasn’t even good enough at that to
please him…
She bit her lip to try and suppress the tears that threatened to spill over.
Rubbing her eyes harshly she sat up to inspect the new set of bruises on her
knees, an ugly purple, green tinged around the edges. She poked it a few times.
“Hmm…” She frowned. Well that sure did hurt.
A loud crash echoed beyond the metal door of the room and she startled, quickly
pressing herself against the wall at the door burst open, banging against the
wall with a BANG. Master stood in the doorway, paper clutched in one fist, the
other holding a mostly empty alcohol bottle, face red with fury.
“Кто ты разговаривал с вами маленькая сучка!” (Who have you been talking to you
little bitch!!)He was upon her in three strides, grabbing her short hair in his
hand and wrenching her up. She cried out in pain, clutching desperately at his
wrists.
“Н-нет один! Клянусь Master, клянусь!” (N-no one! I swear Master, I swear!)
Pain flared her senses as her hair was pulled viciously from her skull.
“Ты лжешь! Я знаю, что ты лжешь!” (You’re lying! I know you’re lying!) He
snarled, throwing her to the ground roughly. He straddled her stomach, holding
her hands above her head. She stared into the dark eyes of Master, heart
pounding and fear freezing her limbs. “Это было настолько большим носом ублюдок
не так ли? Я видел, как ты говорил с ним!” (It was that big nosed bastard
wasn’t it? I saw you talking to him!) She wailed helplessly, his grip so tight
on her wrist that her bones were creaking under the pressure. “Ваш мое! Ты
слышишь меня? Ваш гребаный принадлежит мне!” (Your mine! Do you hear me? Your
fucking belong to me!!) He roared in her face. She whimpered, turning her face
away from him, trying to hide.
“После всего, что я сделал для вас, и это, как вы отплатить мне? Удалившись
себя вне к первым иностранцем, который идет через эту чертову дверь?” (After
everything I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me? Whoring yourself
out to a the first foreigner that walks through the fucking door?)
“Н-нет! Я--“ (N-no!  I—)
“Шлюхи предназначены для трахал, а не говорить!” (Whores are meant to be
fucked, not talk!) A deafening crack erupted into the quite room as Master’s
fist made contact with her cheek, breaking something. She bit her lip to try
and stifle the scream that erupted from her, knowing she’d be hurt even more if
she made any more noise. But that seemed to spur Master on even more, like it
was a game, trying to draw more and more pained noises out of her.
She closed her eyes as tight as she could, refusing to look at him, and
although she couldn’t see what he was doing, she felt every blow, every crack
of a bone, every sickening crunch. Her face, her rib cage, her legs.
Punch. Kick. Crack. The endless cycle of pain. Never ending. It was always more
painful than she remembered.
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Suddenly he wrenched her dress up over her chest, and she could feel him
shifting on top of  her before the weight of him was abruptly off. She sucked
in a huge breath, panting lightly, not realizing her breathing had been altered
with him no top of her. She peeked one eye open only to let out a pitiful
little whimper seeing  Master undoing his belt buckle and pulling his trousers
down just far enough to reveal his pudgy red member, glaring at her angrily.
Grabbing her calf’s in a bruising grip he forces her legs open and dragged her
to him.
“Маленькие шлюхи, как вы только просят, чтобы быть разорвана,” (Little whores
like you are just begging to be torn open,) He muttered, beading eyes staring
down between her legs with a look of hunger. She thought she might be sick. He
lined himself up and slowly pushed in, letting out a long drawn groan. Pain
blazed up her spine, and wet head (no doubtingly blood) seeped down her thighs
as he forced his way into her. It was like being split in two, and hurt even
worse every time, making her silently beg that one day he’ll hit her head that
extra little bit harder and then it would be sweet oblivion forever more.
Master’s thrusts were brutal and un-yielding. The only sound was the slap of
skin against skin, and the mans grunting and ragged breathing. It seemed to
last forever. As his thrusts became even fast and brutal, the pain slowly
started to ebb away, to leave and stomach churning numbness in its place.
His breath was hot and putrid as he gasped and groaned in her ear, giving her
neck a sharp nip, no doubt to leave a mark. He leant back to look down at her,
pulling her harder and harder down onto his stabbing member. Their eyes met and
she poured all of her hatred and anger and pain into that gaze but he just
grinned at her, a mess of ugly yellow teeth, a few missing. He bent over her,
one hand resting on the stone floor next to her head, the other working around
her throat, pressing slowly until she could barely breath.
“Вы, кажется, забыв свое место, шлюха,” (You seem to be forgetting your place,
whore,) He said quietly. “Вам нужно преподать урок.” (You need to be taught a
lesson.) His pace never stopped, slamming into her time and time again.
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
(not as detailed after this)
“В следующий раз, что большой носом пизда приходит сюда,” (Next time that big
nosed cunt comes in here,) His leant his face close to hers, where she was able
to smell the alcohol on his breath. “Я убью его.” (I’ll kill him.)
Panic flared in her chest, eyes going wide as her air supply was finally cut
off completely. It was a fluttering sensation, making her thoughts erratic and
confusing, but all she could think about was:
He’s my only chance—he cant die—I’ll be left here—I will not die here!
Master was no longer pinning her hands to the floor, and seeing the abandoned
alcohol bottle on the floor next to them, she lurched sideways as Master got
closer to his release, she grabbed the handle before slamming it down onto
Master’s head as hard as she could, the glass shattering upon impact.
There was a moment silence where everything seemed to stand still for minutes
when actually it was probably only a few seconds.
And then he slumped down, arms falling out from under him, 230 pounds of a man
covering her 80 pound small body. The breath whooshed out of her and wept as
she struggled under the unconscious man. She bucked up, trying to dislodge him
from on top of her, his heavy weight putting strain on her ribs. Finally the
man slumped sideways, freeing her torso and she could breathe again, huge
gasping breaths. She frantically tugged and wiggled until her legs were finally
free from under him and then scrambled away as quick as possible until she was
pressed against the crates on the other side of the room.
Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears, thundering away as her chest rose and
fell quickly. Master… wasn’t moving. He was absolutely still… could he be….
…no…
His torso was rising and falling. He was alive…
She crept a little closer on her hands and knees. His head was red with blood,
the bottle having shattered from the impact. Looking down she realised there
were several deep cuts on her hand that were oozing blood sluggishly. Her
vision blurred as she stared down at her battered and freshly bloodied body.
She felt numb, inside and out. Everything she was feeling felt distant, like a
passing breeze.
On shaking legs she stood, using the wall of support, leaving bloody red
handprints on the cold concrete walls in her wake. Slowly she edged her way
outside of the storage room, into the main body of the tavern and towards the
back of the building where there was a door leading out into the courtyard
behind the tavern.
She couldn’t stay here…she wouldn’t.
Opening the metal latch she pulled the heavy wooden door open to be hit with a
sudden blast of cold wind that made her instantly recoil back with a shriek.
Outside was a blur of darkness with pale sheets of ice falling from the sky,
illuminated by the one tiny lamp outside the door. Beyond the small amount of
light emitted was darkness. And in that darkness awaited freedom.
She wasn’t even aware she’d taken the first few steps into the shin high snow
until a violent shiver ran through her whole body. She knew it was cold, she
could feel the ice biting at her exposed skin of her legs arms and face but she
didn’t care.
She didn’t care.
She was going to get as far away from this…this…nightmare. Even if it killed
her.
And so she started to walk.
 
-----------
 
The sound of the wind howling above her had long since become white noise. All
she could hear was the ever-constant groan and whine of the gale curling and
swirling around he, like a kind of dance.
The cold seemed to have burrowed itself so far inside her it was in her bones,
making her joints cry with every move she made through the deep snow. She
didn’t know how long she’d been walking, but she could no longer see the lights
of the town in the distance or the tavern behind her. Above her she’d
occasionally get a glimpse of the moon through the clouds, bright and shinning,
like a beacon, surrounded by bright little specks.  Stars.
Her breathing had become shallower with every step she took, the frigid air
stabbing her lungs with each breath. She’d stopped shivering a few hundred
steps ago, that was when she could feel the cold. Now it was just a… deep
hollow ache inside her that thudded dully.
She walked until she lost count of her steps…until she couldn’t feel her legs
moving anymore.
Her breath puffed out of her chapped lips to form clouds in front of her, which
she could see dimly.
She reached out to grab the little clouds, hoping to catch of of them in her
fist, but…her hand just went straight through them. She frowned at the rapidly
disappearing clouds, swiping at them again but it just made them disappear more
quickly.
Everything was becoming…fuzzy. Her foot caught on the back of her ankle and she
stumbled then fell with a heavy thump into the snow. She tried to get up; to
keep on moving but her…her legs wouldn’t do what she wanted. It was as though
there was no strength left in her body. Stiffly she focused on curling in on
herself, bringing her hands to cup around her mouth to breath what little heat
she had left onto them.
This…this was good. Better even. Well no, death isn’t usually the preferred
option, but it…it was inevitable, really. Honestly she’s surprised she even
managed this far without…without…
 
…it’s so cold...
She was tired…tired of cold…tired of trying…
 
Her fingers twitched and slowly…almost cautiously…a familiar little light
appeared between her palms…glowing softly, like the stars she’d briefly seen.
The little star…made the pain not so bad...
 
…she couldn’t feel the cold anymore…in fact…
 
…it was a little easier to breath…
 
…tired…
 
…soft…
 
 
…warmth enveloped her and she was weightless.
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Well I'd say I hope you liked it but...i suppose the point is
     actually to NOT like it. Because I mean...Come on. That was fucked
     up. But it was on PURPOSE.
     So...it like liking a halloween costume? Thats creepy as SHIT so
     Bravo! ha...or its just fucking creepy....never mind.
     If you have any questions, ask!
     I hope someone will review, but even if you only read, thank you! :
     ) happy readings
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hopefully this one isn't as bad….wait, what do I mean hopefully? I
     wrote the damn thing! Anyway…I don't know, its hard to write, so
     sorry Im just really bad at churning out pages.
     But this chapter is…well I wouldn't use the word happier….more like
     less depressing?
     Aye, so…enjoy?
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
The stars were bright. Brighter then she’d ever seen them. They glowed and
twinkled, so beautiful and yet so distant. The reason she liked looking at the
stars…was because it reminded her that there was beauty out there. Something
other than the torment of her life.
Looking around her, she saw that she was surrounded by not snow, but a field of
grass. She’d never seen so much grass before, only wisps of it in the warmer
months of the year and in pictures from newspapers. She knelt down and ran her
hand across the top of the green blades. They tickled her hand and she couldn’t
help but let a small laugh escape at the feeling of the bright green blades
against her palms.
She paused. Standing up she looked up at the sky…the night sky. Then at the
green ground. The grass was as bright as thought it were daylight but the sky
said it clearly wasn’t. Something was wrong.
Looking down again she gasped. Her hands were covered in blood. Desperately she
tried to wipe it off on her dress but it wouldn’t come off. Suddenly pain hit
her in the chest like a stonewall, making her cry out with the shock. Her
chest…it…it was caving in, sinking lower and lower until there was nothing left
except white brackets of her ribs and spine. And yet she felt no pain, just a
horrible feeling of hollow emptiness.
She sunk down onto the grass, which was now drenched in blood, her arms wrapped
around her chest, hoping that that would somehow keep what remained of her
torso together. A dull thump echoed through her body,.
Thump.
She lifted her head in surprise.
Thump.
Moving her head stiffly, she looked down. On the ground in front of her…was a
heart. A red and bloodied heart. A heart that was still beating. Still alive.
She had a sickening feeling that it was in fact her own. She reached out with
shaky hands and took the bloodied organ in her hands. It was as cold as ice. It
was so cold in fact that she dropped it in shock at the sudden icy pain that
came with touching it. To her horror though, as soon as it hit the ground it
shattered into a hundred tiny little pieces. She screamed.
*****
The sound of her own scream jolted her awake and she shot up, mouth open and
panting as her heart beat thundered in her ears. She buried her face in her
hands, rubbing at her eyes until she saw green spots behind her eyes. Taking
her hands away from her eyes she blinked rapidly at her surroundings.
…where was she?
She was in a room that was unfamiliar. In fact it was like nothing she’d ever
seen before. She was in a large fluffy white sheeted bed with wooden beams on
each corner. On the other side of the room directly in front of her was a large
dark wood fireplace, the fire itself emitting an orange glow to the rest of the
room.
On the left side of the room as a little window, with pink flowered lacy
curtains. On the right was a wardrobe and chest of draws, and right in the
corner a door.
Her brain seemed to be particularly slow to process her surroundings. All she
could seem to focus on was the pink curtains. They had some kind little white
flowers on them, a kind she’d never seen before.
….why pink?
Looking under the thick padded blanket covering her she realised that her body
was covered in an assortment of bandaged, with what felt like some kind of
coolness underneath them. She poked it a particularly large bandage on her
ribs, the pressure of her touch leaving a tingly sensation in its wake. She
poked it again.
Tingly.
She crawled out of the bed, surprised at how her body didn’t protest as much as
she was expecting, and dropped herself lightly onto the hard wooden floor. It
was warm beneath her feet. She then noticed she was wearing a white dress, that
folded in at her ribs and fell around her legs like a wave. She stroked the
material cautiously. It was soft.
Slowly she crept towards the fire, reveling at its warmth. Standing in front of
the fire, she thought about what she last remembered. She’d gone into the
snow…and…and…that was all. Nothing else. She scratched the back of her head as
she looked around the room again. She doubted she was anywhere near Master
anymore…or at least she hoped so. She really hoped so.
Click. She startled at the sound just outside the door in the corner of the
room, and scuttled back to hide behind the bed.
The door clicked open and she tensed, her grip on her knees turning her
knuckles white. The door creaked as it opened and the sound of feet stepping
into the room make her bite her lip. The steps paused for the briefest of
moments before closing the door and moving towards the fire. Something was
placed with a tap tap on the circular table in front of the fire. There was the
creak of springs as one of the armchair in front of the fire was sat in. And
then nothing.
She must have waited there for at least ten minutes before she finally risked
sneaking a peek over the top of the bed.
Her eyes widened as she recognized the owner of the large crooked nose
silhouetted by the glow of the fire.
“Hello, Valentine.” She didn’t move, she didn’t even blink. She didn’t trust
herself not to fall at the shock of the situation she found herself in.
He said he’d come back, didn’t he? And this is what he meant, coming back to
her?
“H-hi…” She whispered back, staring at him with wide eyes. Slowly. Every so
slowly… she shuffled along the side of the bed to stand by the edge, body half
obscured by the thick wooden beam of the bed. It would look as though she was
protecting herself from harm way, hiding her body from direct view, but in
actual fact she was leaning heavily on the beam and gripping it tightly as her
legs seemed to have turned to goop.
Her brain couldn’t quite seem to understand much at the moment, all except the
three words:
He freed me. He freed me. He freed me. He freed me. He freed me. He freed me.
He freed me.
“Woo—“ She cleared her throat. “W-who are you?”
“My name is Severus Snape.” Well… She got his name. But that didn’t really
answer her question very well. But before she could ask more of him he carried
on. “I am a Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” She
blinked at him. And blinked again.
“…w-what?”
“It’s a school. For magically gifted children, who’re all like you.” He
explained, although not successfully. Like her? What did he mean?
“Oh…” She frowned slightly before replying hesitantly. “…I don’t…understand…”
Onyx eyes turned to stare at her, his face cast in shadow.
“Which part?”
“…a-all of it…” She said uneasily.
There was a long stretch of silence where they just stared at each other.
“I brought you something to eat and drink.” The Professor said, gesturing to a
tray on the table in front of her. On the tray was a plate with some crackers,
and a flask of some kind of purple drink that was sweet smelling. She stumbled
towards it and ate one of the three square in two large bites. In was dry and
bland tasting, and it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever tasted.
“Eat it slowly.” She stopped her eating and saw that he was watching her. She
swallowed thickly and backed away with the tray until she was in her previous
spot by the bed against the wall. She munched on her squares more slowly until
she was licking the crumbs off her hands. When she was finished she lowered her
hands onto her lap and stared as the flickering fire. She gnawed at her lip.
“…W-why did you save me..?” She whispered quietly to the silent man in front of
the fire.
“Because you deserved saving.” She stared down at the hardwood floor, reaching
up to tug at her hair. “… and I’m sorry that I hadn’t found you sooner.”
She bit her lip and stared into the purple drink in the cup. She brought the
flask up to her lips and took a sip. It was sweet and tangy and a little slimy
on her tongue.
She watched as the man called Professor Snape stood, and walked over to the
door. She put the now empty flask on the tray on the floor and clambered onto
the tall bed to watch him leave.
“I will be back in the morning, so try to get some rest.” She didn’t reply but
just watched him open the door, glance at her one more time before closing it
softly behind him.
She stared at the fire for a few more minutes before she let herself think
about what she’d just learned. He…he said she was a witch. Witches do…magic…
She opened her palm, concentrating and willing herself to make that familiar
little light. sure enough there was a flicker of light, then a tiny little ball
about the size of her index fingers nail, glowing into reality. For as long as
she can remember she’d been able to do little strange things like this. Nothing
big. Nothing that she’d count as magic.
Sometimes she’d gotten so scared the bottle she’d carry would bubble and boil,
or the glasses at the bar would shatter.
Then there were little things like this. The little light. It was the one thing
she knew how to do and could produce on command, because…because it was a
feeling. All she had to do was think about the warmth she knew existed in the
world, the warmth she’d felt so many years ago. The light shone softly, warming
her hands. She sighed tiredly and lay down onto the cool sheets, the little
light cupper in her hands and fell asleep the minute she closed her eyes.
*****
She didn’t have any bad dreams that night. She didn’t dream of anything. Only
blissful oblivion.
*****
Sunlight flittered through the gaps in the flowery curtains, bright
highlighting strips across the bed. She was surrounded by warmth, from the top
of her head to the tip of her toes. She slowly floated into consciousness, a
light airy feeling unfurling inside her chest as she breathed in the scents
around her. Her eyes shot open as she didn’t detect moldy wood or the sharp
bitter tang of alcohol. She flailed, blanket suddenly turned from a cocoon of
warmth to suffocating her. All she could think as she struggled in her blind
panic was panicescapepanicescaperunrunrun.
She pushed against her fabric confinements until she heard a ripping sound and
suddenly the bed was no longer there and the hit the wooden floor with a
jarring whack.
She lay there for ten hurried heart beats before she peaked out from the sheet
hanging over her face, half of it still on the bed. The room looked different
in the daytime. Not as dark and…scary.
She sat up slowly, tugging the rest of the blanket off and using the bed as
support she got to her feet. She felt…sort of drowsy. A little dizzy.
She could faintly hear the sound of birds from outside, so she went to the
little window to peek out through the flowery curtains. Her mouth fell open
upon what she saw. Hundreds of building tops stretched out in front of her, and
behind that in the far distance was tall looming structures, the kind she’d
never seen before. She closed the curtain quickly, turning away from the
window.
Where was she?
That was something the man, Snape, hadn’t answered yesterday. Although granted
she didn’t ask….But it was still something she felt she should know.
In the daylight she realised there was another door in the room. On the
opposite side of the room to the door Professor Snape had come through, on the
wall with the fire. She approached the door hesitantly, and turned the
doorknob—it opened. She peered inside. It was a bathroom. She’d never been in
one, but she’d deep them in the newspaper. It was all white tiles and soft dark
wood. It smelt flowery. She frowned and closed the door again.
She made her way over to the other door, running her hands over the soft fabric
of the arm chairs as she went. When she tried this door handled, it didn’t
open. She felt like she’d been drenched in cold water. It was locked.
Suddenly there was a noise from the other side of the door and before she had a
chance to process it the door had started to open. She scrambled backward as
fast as she could, stumbling as she got her foot caught on the rug. She tumbled
against the wooden floor but quickly crawled to hide behind one of the arm
chairs, the furthest one away from the door. She peeked around the armchair as
Professor Snape, who was standing in the doorway, watching her.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He said softly. He didn’t move from the
doorframe. “May I come in?” She didn’t know why he was asking her permission,
why he didn’t just come in and sit down. Why’d he need to have permission from
her? He was the one in charge, he held all the power.
So she just stared at him in confusing, waiting for him to step in. He didn’t.
He wasn’t going to move unless she answered him.
“Y-you can…” she said quietly, watching him with wide cautious eyes. He stepped
into the room slowly, catching him watching her.
He came and sat down on the arm chair in front of her.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Valentine.” She didn’t reply. “You don’t have to be
afraid of me.”
“I-I'm not afraid!” She whispered quickly. She couldn’t show any weakness…even
if he did save her, she didn’t fully understand his intentions. “…I just…I d-
don’t trust you.” Snape blinked at her before nodding in understanding.
“And you are right not to.” Valentine looked at him in surprise and stood up,
still hidden behind the arm chair.
“I s-shouldn’t?” He leant forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“No. Trust is a dangerous thing and should not be easily given.” Glanced at the
door behind him before turning her gaze back to him.
Then she slowly shuffled around the arm chair to sit, not fully though so that
she could make a quick escape to the other side of the room in a moments
notice. She rested her skinny little arms on the armrests.
“…you said I’m m-magic…” She looked at the burning ambers in the fire, barely
glowing. “What did you mean…b-by that?” Professor Snape sat back in the chair.
“You are a witch.” She stared at him. “You can do magic, and are of magical
heritage.” She carried on staring. “I, myself, am a wizard.” Finally she
stopped staring at him and looked down at the floor for a moment. When she
looked up again her jaw was set and she had a determined look in her eye.
“Prove it.” She said stubbornly. Professor Snape stared at her, nodded once and
pulled something out of his sleeve. A stick. No…a wand?
He flicked the tip in the direction of the table a few feet away. To her
astonishment the table lifted into the air and bobbed towards them quite
casually before plopping down in between herself and Professor Snape. She gaped
at the table.
“More?” He asked, and didn’t wait for an answer before he waved the wand over
the table and the tray from last night materialized out of nowhere, with a
plate of food on it.
Valentine pressed herself against the back of the armchair in alarm.
“W-where did that come from?!” She yelped, staring wide eyed at Professor
Snape.
“Downstairs. I simply brought it here, with this,” he nodded to his wand.
“…with magic…” He nodded. “You’re magical. A wizard.” Another nod. “And I’m a
witch…” another nod. “…o----k…” She said slowly, deciding to believe him. For
now.
A few beats of silence.
“You should eat.” He said. She only really just noticed how hungry she actually
was, the deep gnawing ache in her stomach demanding sustenance. It wasn’t a new
feeling. She snatched the plate up quickly, munching on the bread as quickly as
she could, all the while not taking her eyes off of him.
“You will live here for now, this will be your home.” She stopped eating. “You
never have to go back to that place and that…man ever again.”
Her mind seemed to stutter to a halt when he said those words. She never…never
had to go back…? Was he telling the truth? How did she know he wasn’t lying?
He told me not to trust him…she thought to herself, tearing the bread in front
of her into tiny little pieces that she ate at a more sedated pace. Why would
he tell her not to trust him? What did he gain from telling her this? But as
she kept his unwavering gaze she couldn’t help but…believe the man. This
stranger.
“He was a bad man.” He told her calmly. She bit her lip.
“A-am I…bad?” She asked quietly. Master always told her she was. That she was
scum. She was filth that didn’t even deserve to be on the bottom of his boots.
She tried not to listen when he said those words. She’d tried to block him out.
It never worked…
Snape leaned forwards in the chair, making her instantly stiffen. He paused
when he noticed this, but didn’t break eye contact with her.
“No.” He said firmly, and the conviction that he said it with took her aback.
“You are not. What he…what he did to you was bad, it was evil. He is a
monster.” She flinched as he spat out that word like it was poison. “But
you…Valentine it is not your fault. Never, not for one second think it is. You
are a victim of his cruelty, nearly your whole life. And that is no ones fault
but his, and mine for not finding you sooner. You did not deserve how you were
treated, and you will never be treated like that again. Ever.” Tears stung her
eyes, making her vision blurry. She sucked in a shuddering breath, the air
catching in her throat. She couldn’t swallow.
“R-really?” she whispered brokenly, so quietly Snape barely just caught the
word. Valentine couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let the tears roll down her
face, salty taste of them seeping into the crease of her lips and falling onto
her white dress. Her breaths came in choked out sobs and she tried to prevent
herself from simply wailing the misery and relief twisting a battle for
dominance inside her chest, making it feel tight. Like she couldn’t get enough
air. She felt like she couldn’t breath for a few minutes, each breath a
struggle against the onslaught of tears running down her cheeks and stinging
her eyes. She kept trying to suck in a breath, but it was hard to get her lungs
to work, it felt like a heavy weight was pressed on her chest. Her throat felt
tight and sore, like she’d been strangled. She reached into her hair to tug at
it, a method she used often to calm herself down. The dull tug and small amount
of pain usually made her get out of her head but it didn’t seem to be working.
She couldn’t stop crying. She used her other hand to cover her face and curled
in on herself, trying to hide the tears from Snape. Tears were weakness.
Only then did she realise he was talking.
“Its okay…you’re fine…you’re safe,” He was speaking softly, making these tiny
little shushing sound, little hums of noise from the back of his throat. She
let the rhythmic sound of his attempt at comfort calm her breathing until her
panicked gasping was nothing more than little whimpers and sniffs. Her face was
streaked in tears and she had a runny nose. She wiped it on her dress sleeve.
Valentine stared at him watching her in concern, his eyes looking pinched and
tight around the edges.
With another wave of his wand a big metal tanker appeared in front of her on
the table.
“This might make you feel better.” He said softly, the tanker inching a bit
towards her. She eyed it wearily, sniffing loudly before reaching out with
shaking hands. It was warm to the touch, and when she looked inside she saw
some kind of white foam covering the top.
“That’s whipped cream. It’s made from milk. Try it.” He encouraged gently. She
poked in hesitantly, until she had some on her finger, before putting it in her
mouth. It was quite a bright taste, but soft. She dipped her finger in it
again, licking it off. Underneath there was brown liquid.
“Its hot chocolate.” She glanced at him before carefully taking a sip. The heat
of the drink was what first struck her. The taste seemed to coat her while
mouth, almost overwhelmingly so; it was deep and velvety in taste, with a
constant flow of sweetness laced in. She drank it quickly.
She honestly didn’t think she had any more tears left inside her. She felt
alarmingly hollow. She wheezed out a breath, sitting up a little straighter.
With shaking hands she placed the tanker back on the table, and wrapped her
arms around her torso.
Professor Snape was watching her closely, as if waiting for something to
happen. She didn’t know what he wanted her to do. She couldn’t find it in
herself to cry, he was right, the ‘hot chocolate’ had made her feel better. Or
at least less like she couldn’t breath and that her head was going to explode.
She ran her tongue over her teeth, chasing the taste.
“How do you feel?” Valentine shrugged one shoulder. She didn’t really know how
she felt. Warm. Yes, she felt warm. That was really all she could think of at
the moment.
“Do you want to know where you are?” She sat up a little straighter and nodded
her head vigorously.
“Y-yes!”
“You are in London.” She blinked at him owlishly. “England?” She nodded her
head slowly, slightly more aware of the countries existence then London. She’d
seen it in newspapers.
“You are at a place called the Leaky Cauldron. It sells drinks and food to
people, with rooms people can stay in.” The grip on her gown tightened.
“L-like—“ She started to say, thinking this Leaky Cauldron sounded like the
tavern.
“No.” He reassured her quickly. “Nothing like before. No one will hurt you
here.” She relaxed just a fraction. It could be seen in the way her eyes seemed
less pinched, mouth relaxing from the grimace it had turned into, her body
slightly less curled in on itself.
“This place is for people of the wizarding world. It’s hidden from Muggles.”
“M-muggles?” She said in confusion.
“Non-magical people are called Muggles. Muggles do not know of the existence of
the magical world, except in fiction and myth.”
“Oh…” She murmured dully, taking the information in but not really knowing what
was the appropriate response. So that’d be why she’d never heard of wizards and
witches actually being a real thing.
Everything felt very surreal, she wasn’t really sure of anything at the moment.
They stared at each other, almost daring the other to make the first move.
Finally Snape sighed, waving his wand and the table moved from in between them
to beside her armchair. She tenses, suddenly feeling exposed again. He stood
up.
“Would you allow me to check your wounds, Valentine?” She stiffened even
further as he kneeled in front of her. “I need to make sure that they’re
healing.” He reached out slowly, as though she were a wounded animal. In a way
she was.
Mere inches away from touching her arm, crossed in front of her. “Please?” He
asked quietly. She stared at him with large, wary eyes before, slowly, so
slowly, pressed her arm into his grasp.
His hand was large with spindly knobbly fingers, and could easily enclose her
fragile wrist but his grip was steady and sure as he grasped her lightly. She’d
never been handled with so much care.
He slowly unwrapped the bandages on her arms, one after the other. There were
bruises, a smattering of green and yellow, scatter all along her arms. He
gripped her arms one at a time with both hand, flexing his fingers against the
arm, almost assessing them. She winced slightly, her bones feeling brittle and
sore.
“W-what…” She started to say, unsure of how to ask what it is he was doing. He
glanced at her, dark eyes reflecting the glow from the window and morning sun.
“I’m checking your bones. To see if they’re still as fragile as I last examined
them, some of the bones in your arms were fractured, as well as two being
shattered.” He flexed his grip on her arms a few more times before slowly
trailing his wand across the length of each of her arms, the end of it glowing
faintly. She watched as he also trailed it over her torso and hips and alone
one of her legs. Then he sat back and put his wand in his cloak. “Well it seems
as though you have healed well, albeit quicker then I expected.”
“R-really?” She asked worriedly.
“I used magic to heal the damage, but it takes almost a week for the bones to
fully fuse and mend itself, as well as for the swelling to go down. You seem to
be quite lucky, you healed quicker then most would do with injuries such as
your own.”
“M-my injuries?” She couldn’t really remember anything specific of where she
was hurt. Just pain.
Professor Snape looked at her thoughtfully.
“…I think it’s best you not know.” He decided. “Now is a time for you to heal
and rest.” She nodded slightly. She’d rather not remember. “I have some
business to see to, but I’ll be back this evening to talk to you about
Hogwarts, the school you will be attending.”
“Oh…” She said quietly, and although she still felt a knot of anxiety being in
close proximity to him, there was a little part of her that didn’t want him to
go. To leave her. She didn’t understand that part of her.
Professor Snape seemed to notice her reaction though, and he paused in his
departure.
“You…” She could hear him swallowing all the way from where she was. “You’re
safe, Valentine. Do you understand that?” He asked, his voice taking on an even
softer note. She nodded after a moment of hesitation, watching his face closely
for any sign of a lie. With one more concerned look directed at her Snape left
the room. The locking of the door seeming to echo and bounce off the walls.
She hugged her legs to her chest, her cheek resting on her knees and stared at
the low smoky ambers still in the fireplace, the inside of her head quiet for
the first time in a long time.
Chapter End Notes
     If there are spelling mistakes, like maaaajor big ones please tell
     me, but if they're tiny…..hm, i suppose still tell me anyway.
     Bit less depressing maybe? Who knows.
     I would LOVE the hear any thoughts.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     omg whaaaat?
     I updated?! I know right! Shocker!
     I feel so bad its just 85% of the time writing for me is like
     'UAAAAAAAAARGHWORDSGETOUTWTFLEAVENODONTDOTHATJHBKNLM!!!!'
     So...you know...it makes this whole writing a fan fiction a little
     harder then I think it should be.
     Lets just put it that I have a lot of thoughts and ideas but not a
     lot of motivation.
     Also, university work is in the way so HA! Thats a legit excuse!
     ....not really.
     This is....idk. it just is. I really liked writing the end though. I
     almost made MYSELF CRY! that how much FEELS i was feeling.
     for realsies
See the end of the chapter for more notes
  
 
TheDreamstarted just as it always had done, the slow drumming of a heartbeat
that was not her own, covering her like a calming balm. Next came smell, the
musk of warm skin, old worn cotton and burnt wood. Then touch, gentle strokes
upon her hair, hand in hand with the heartbeat against her ear, and the gently
humming of a hushed voice lulling her further and further into a deep sleep.
 
Her eyes snapped opened at the abrupt loss of heat, a hollow chill that made
her teeth chatter had replaced it and her body stiffened. She was lying upon
something that felt like a mixture of leather and cloth. She pushed herself up
awkwardly up into a sitting position, to inspect what the hard knobbly thing
she was sitting on was…
A scream gurgled out of her throat, and she threw herself away from what she
realised was a decomposing body, its bare yellow teeth grinning at her panic.
Her body trembled violently as she took in the rest of the body, the clothes it
was wearing. It looked like—
“…n-nooooo…” A whine bubbled out of her throat as she covered her face with her
hands, trying to cover up what was in front of her, to un-see it somehow. But
she couldn’t. Even when her eyes were shut she could still see the black pits
for eyes that it had.You have,her mind whispered. Which made her shudder even
more, her body trying to curl in on itself, to cease existing.
--I’m sorry please forgive me I’m sorry please forgive me I’m sorry please
forgive me I’m sorry please forgive me I’m sorry please forgive me I’m sorry
please forgive me I’m sorry please forgive me--
She was so consumed by her distressing and guilty mantra inside her head that
she didn’t notice the familiar corpse twitched in her direction until a cold
skin peeling hand grabbed her ankle. She jerked back, shriek stuck in her
throat, her hair hitting the wall with a CRACK—
 
Her body jolted off the edge of the bed, hitting the corner of the side
table—hard. She gasped wetly curling in on herself at the pain, her vision
blurred with the resulting tears.  She clawed at her chest, desperately trying
to breath through the pain in her ribcage, a cold numbing throbbing gnawing at
her insides making her limbs cease up.
Her body twisted trying to escape the agony, to desperately distance itself
from the excruciating shudders that rock her frame, but the only thing she
managed to do was role onto her stomach and scrabble at the floor, trying to
find purchase, something to press against.
She felt the sting of bile at the back of her throat, her eyes running as she
choked on a cough, and her stomach emptying its content against her consent.
She retched until all she was just dry heaving with the occasional wet sob.
Valentine felt like she’d surely shiver out of her skin, she couldn’t stop
shaking, although yet at the same time she didn’t think that was possible, she
felt like her body was too small for her insides, she felt pinched, trapped and
unable to breath.
Her vision was topsy-turvy as she looked around the still alien room, all dark
spaces, unfamiliar smells and shapes, she needed something--something she knew,
something she recognized—
Despite the haziness of her thoughts she noticed a thin slither of light out of
her peripheral vision. She grasped feebly at the blankets, trying to hoist
herself up from her fetal position on the floor. She whimpered as her muscles
screamed at her in protest, but she ignored it all in attempts to get towards
the light. When she realised she wasn’t going to be able to pull herself up she
tried for dragging herself across the floor, fingertips going numb at the pain
of using them as her only source of leverage. When she got to the wall she
lunged upwards with a grunt, only barely grabbing the windowsill, fumbling to
find a grip. She bit her lip until she felt blood, straining to pull herself up
to a something resembling standing.
She couldn’t stay here. She had to run. She wouldnotbe trapped. Not again. If
she stayed here he would find her again. She had to run.
She flung away the curtains obscuring her view, to be greeted by moonlight;
pouring onto her face and suddenly her pain was almost unoticeable. No longer
was she hidden from the moons shining light. She could see.
She stretched to reach the latch of the window, the old wooden frame of the
window screeching as she shoved it open, a blast of cool air hitting her in the
face, making her shiver. Valentine glanced behind her at the dark room, and all
the shadows in there.
Everything in her mind was screaming at her to run run run from here he’ll find
you you’re not safe he can still get to you you’ll must RUN GO NOW!
She only just managed to hoist herself up onto the windows ledge, looking out
at rooftops, which she could only tell were rooftops because of the light the
moon provided. There was a sloping edge just bellow her window, and about a
meter after that empty air until the next flat surface of another building top.
She eyed the challenge before her warily, her hearth thumping heavily in her
chest. Although her pain had lessened, she still found herself breathing
heavily in order to cope with it, a headache blaring angrily behind her eyes.
She blinked fiercely, trying to rid herself of the fuzziness she hadn’t seemed
to shake since she woke up.
She hesitantly toed the cool but dry shingles on the roof under the window,
before easing herself off the ledge, still keeping a tight grip of the frame as
she crept closer to the edge until she had to let go.
Her white nightie swayed slightly in the summer breeze. Valentine felt like her
heart was in her throat, looking longingly at the other roof only a meter and a
half in front of her. But with a 20 ft. drop in between. She can’t forget about
that.
She clenched her jaw, stepped as far back as she could without going back
through the window and ran. Well it was more five purposeful strides before she
was flying, nothing underneath to support her. Weightless.
Except that she was and she landed on her stomach and rolled on the other roof
with an ‘oof’, the wind thoroughly knocked out of her. She scrabbled to safety
further onto the roof before crawling to her hands and knees, then stumbling to
her feet and setting off quickly, as though the devil was at her heel.
Beyond the buildings she sees lights, white, red, blue and gold. But she
doesn’t stop to look at them. She just runs, individual buildings passing under
her, all joined into one long stretch. When she comes to another gap, this time
a foot larger, she doesn’t stop she just leaps, skidding to a stop on the other
side. She’d panting hard, and when she looks back she could barely see the
small window in the wall she just come from.
At the very edge of the hard graveled roof she currently stood on was an iron
ladder, which she hoped led down to the ground. She clambered down it as fast
as possible, missing some of the steps in her haste on the way down. But to her
horror the ladder didn’t reach all the way to the ground. It ran half way down
the building and then stopped, the rusty iron must have corroded and fallen
away. She felt a desperate whine bubbling up at the back of her throat. She was
at the back of the building, where it was just concrete, bricks and dirt. There
was about 3 ½ meters below her before the ground. She had no choice, she had to
jump. So she let go of the bars.
As soon as her feet hit the ground her legs crumpled as the rest of her body
tried to land with just as much force. She toppled over, her forehead bashing
harshly on the dirty cold floor. Pain flashed behind her eyes and she groans,
rolling up into a sitting position. She touched the soon to be big angry bump
on her temple and felt wetness there. She swallowed thickly and clambered to
her feet and walked on unsteadily towards the gold light at the end of the
alley, using the brick wall as support.
Valentine could faintly hear the sounds of an animal shuffling about, sniffing
things. The high pitched sound of a bat flew overhead. But there was also the
sound of…voices. Which became louder the closer to the end of the alley she
got. Her ears strained to pick out what they were saying but for all she could
tell they were talking gibberish
She gasped as she got the threshold of the alley. Bright tangy orange lights
glared at her from overhead, and a stream of bright obnoxious lights covered
the buildings in front of her, blaring at her eyes even when she closed her
eyes.
What she thought was supposed to be a road, although she’d never seen one as
big as this, lay in front of her, strange markings painted onto it, yellow
arrows and white lines. There was even some kind of mini road raised up on
either side of the painted one. It looked to be a road for people.
And there were lots of people.
Some walking fast, others slow, and some just standing around in groups,
talking, laughing and shouting so loud it made her ears ring.
She stepped into the crowd, although she was reluctant to do so. It was her
only way to escape. She had to bear with it, despite all the strange smells and
noises. She hunched her shoulders and ducked her head down low, her feet
becoming numb against the cold ground.
Valentine had to breath through her mouth, the scents all around her were
dizzying. She didn’t know how long she walked in the crowd, trying to weave in
and around people, avoid touching them at all costs and yet not be noticed. She
couldn’t see anything past the masses.
Because she couldn’t see anything except the ground beneath her feet it’s
really no surprise when she end up tripping on something, or lack of something
for a better word. She lands harshly on her hands and knees, scraping the first
layer of skin of and biting her tongue. A bight light blinded her as a high
screech could be heard. A loud blaring sound pieced her head and she howled in
pain. Something gripped her shoulder tightly and turned her around. She heard
gasps, and murmurs but no words. None that she could understand. The one who
gripped her shoulder was saying something to her urgently, concern on the
womans face.
“I-I don’t understand what you’re s-saying,” She stuttered out, looking at all
the faces trained on her. The one talking to her blinked, confusing sweeping
over her expression. More people started to crowd around her, all talking at
once, getting louder and louder. The woman grabbed hold of her wrist and she
bolted.
She just ran, ran past lights, people, buildings, she ran until her lungs felt
like they were on fire and her legs felt like they were going to fall off until
finally she collapsed behind what appeared to be a mostly abandoned building,
behind some bins. Her heart was hammering in her head, her breathing loud in
the quietness of the backstreet where she could barely make out the sound of
the people on the streets anymore. She couldn’t feel the rough grit underneath
her curled up legs, she couldn’t feel the light drizzle that had started, all
she could feel was the tight knot in her chest, making it even harder for her
to breath. She hugged herself, a pitiful whine escaping through her clenched
teeth. She tried to blink away the stinging tears but she was powerless to stop
them from running down her face, barely noticeable against the rain.
Valentine shouldn’t have left the room she should never have run away, she
didn’t know—she didn’t know, it’s so much worse out here. Her senses were
overwhelmed with the smells that were foreign and scary. Not to mention the
sounds, everything was so noisy and she couldn’t think she could barely even
breath, she felt like her chest was too tight for her lungs, which were
straining, gasping trying to expand enough to just breath. The world was
spinning, she couldn’t tell what she was seeing so she squeezed her eyes shut
to try and dispel the dizziness falling over her, her stomach churning
sickeningly.
Darkness started to creep in; she could see it around the edge of her vision,
waiting, ready to pounce when she wasn’t paying attention.
And then it pounced.
But…wait, no. She wasn’t unconscious. She blinked blearily as she was
unexpectedly enveloped in warmth, softness draped over her bruised and icy
skin, suddenly aware of the shivers running through her body. Someone was
stroking her hair, murmuring soft nothings in her ear.
Her breathing evened out at the rhythmic strokes through her sodden hair, the
gentle swaying of her body as the cold slowly ebbed out of her. She curled into
the heat, nuzzling her head against warm material, too tired to be unnerved by
such close contact with another person. The stroking stopped momentarily before
her face was pressed against something warmer, like skin, a pulse different
from her own loud in her ears as she burrowed closer to the calming rhythm. She
was able to breath if she timed her exhales with the beat, and the pain in her
chest lifting and she finally sagged into oblivion.
 
                                     *** 
                                        
A flickering light glowed beyond her eyelids. There was a line of heat
alongside her body, keeping her warm, until the source shifted carefully away.
She whined softly in objection, and the heat soon returned, a soft shift of
fabric at her side, disturbing her position, but before she had time to grunt
in protest a soothing caress smoothed down her back, and Valentine felt safe,
relaxed like she’d never been, and let herself succumb to the dark again.
 
                                      ***
                                        
 She waked up to the sharp sound of china clinking together and sunlight
streaming in through the open windows, the faint sound of birds and streets
pouring in. She blinks against the sun, and rubbed her eyes as she sits up, her
joints aching with the movement. Fresh bandages on her hands scratch at her
face and she sees she’s littered in them. She can’t remember how she got them
and suddenly the night before comes rushing back to her. She shudders at the
memory of out there. She rubbed her arms.
“Don’t disturb the bandages. I don’t want to have to re-do them.” A voice said
from behind her. She gasped in surprise and turned in the large armchair to
look at Snape, whom she hadn’t realised was in the room. His expression was
unreadable, his dark eyes watching her intensely. She gulped loudly.
“G-good morning…” She said quietly, looking down at her hands uncomfortably. He
had rescued her. And not for the first time. And she’d still run away.
“You’ve been asleep for a long time, I should think ‘good afternoon’ is more
appropriate.” He said stiffly, going to sit on the armchair opposite her. She
only just noticed the spread that was on the table in front of her. That was
where the smell was coming from, freshly cooked food, bread, meat, eggs and a
drink.
“Is this—”
“You’re very under weight for your age. It’s time I started feeding you
correctly.” He said briskly, opening a newspaper from under his arm. She licked
her lips and looked at the food, but didn’t touch. She rubbed her hands against
the smooth dry wood of the table nervously.
“Eat.” She jumped again. Dark eyes peered at her over the newspaper sternly.
The “please” was said more gently.
She started with the toast, nibbling on it at first before a sudden wave of
hunger overtook her and she stuffed it in, crumbs be damned. Then it was the
sausages and bacon; she’d only ever tasted them a few times. It was better then
she remembered or could have imagined, the deep richness overwhelmed her senses
and she licked her fingers, chasing the taste once she was done. She ate the
eggs with a what she thought was called a spoon, she was a little confused by
the names of so many different things used to eat with, and finally drank an
orange coloured drink that sparked her taste buds and left a tingly sweet
aftertaste in her mouth.
It was all gone in about ten minutes.
She wiped her mouth and leant back into the armchair, not liking how she’d
practically forgotten Snape’s presence while she ate. She’d been distracted and
left herself vulnerable.
He’d stopped reading the newspaper at some point while she was gorging herself;
the paper was now folded in his lap and his full attention was on her. She
wasn’t sure she liked it like that. She prepared herself for the swift scolding
she knew was bound to happen. Where she was told while she was free to a
certain degree, she was still under this mans control, and to disobey had hard
consequences.
“I’m sorry.”
That wasn’t what she was expecting.
“What.” It wasn’t a question. She just…she didn’t understand. “I don’t
understand.”
“That would be where our problem lies,” He set the newspaper on the table. “I
have failed you.”
“…failed?” She asked, still completely lost. He looked down at his joined
hands.
“When I took you from…that place, you became my responsibility, as such it was
not only my responsibility to protect you, but to make you feel protected and
safe.” He glanced at her, but his eyes did not meeting hers, instead settling
on her new bandages. “I didn’t achieve that. Obviously.” Valentine didn’t know
what to say. She stared at her hand, the silence becoming thicker around her.
So thick in fact that it felt as though it was slowly crawling down her throat,
making her feel so uncomfortable that she blurted—
“I had a dream.” She clamped her mouth shut, just as surprised at her outburst
as Snape was.
“A dream?” After a brief moment of hesitation she nodded stiffly.
“…back.” She swallowed thickly. “It why I…He was…b-back…he found m-me—“ She
felt her throat closing up, tears stinging her eyes just thinking about the
dream. She gasped wetly, trying to grasp onto some semblance of control, hands
clasping her hands together against her chest so tight her knuckled were ghost
white. The old sense panic reared its ugly head at the back of her mind, ready
and waiting to strike, to get her, just like him—
“NO.”
Valentines gaze jerked up to Snape’s. His face has morphed into a thunderous
scowl, onyx eyes bright and furious. It’s an expression that would have
frightened her if it weren’t for the words that came out of his mouth after.
“He will NEVER find you Valentine. He will never even see you again let alone
to be able to touch you. You have to understand this Valentine, that I will
never let you be hurt by that man again.” She gaped at him at his fierce
outburst. He wasn’t angry with her, he was angry for her. “I swear I will do
everything in my powers to protect you from feeling pain like that ever again.”
He turned his gaze away to stare at the dying embers in the fire. “I wish I had
been able to protect you from the pain you’ve experienced. I wish…that I had
been able to take you away from that life and that monster earlier in your
life.” No one had ever!—she’d never even dreaming—she’d never even heard
anyone—
“Why would you say that?!” She cried in horror, fresh salty tears streaming
down her face. She clambered down from the over stuffed armchair and stumbled
to stop in front of Snape, an angry little glare on her red and blotchy face.
“Why? WHY? Why would you say something like that?!” Snape’s was staring at her
with a startled expression on his face, as though not comprehending what was
happening. “You have NO Obligation to say any of that so why, WHY WOULD YOU?!”
She shrieked, pulling at her hair viciously. “It doesn’t make any sense, none
of this makes any sense! You don’t make any sense!” She was openly crying/
shouting, her eyes red and puffy, her nose snotty, and she’d never been more
confused while angry at the same time in her life. “Why—w-why would you care?!”
She demanded him incredulously. “I’m—I’m nothing, I’m no one I don’t—I don’t
deserve any of this! I’ve never done anything good to deserve any of this!” She
gestured at the room, her arms flailing wildly. “You shouldn’t be doing any of
this! We don’t know each other so w-why—w-why do you—w-why—“ She hiccoughed,
unable to carry on, having been crying and shouting too loudly for her voice to
handle anymore.
She wiped futilely at the never ending stream of tears she couldn’t seem to
hold back, and was too distracted to notice Snape moving towards her until he
was touching her, lifting her in fact, into his lap. She instantly stiffened,
such close proximity to him sending her panicking. As she was frozen, she
couldn’t do much as Snape guided her head to his shoulder, his body seeming
huge as he wrapped his arms around her small figure.
She didn’t know what she was expecting but it wasn’t…it wasn’t just staying
still. They say in silence for what felt like a very long time but was probably
only five minutes, enough time for her heart rate to calm almost back to
normal, although she hadn’t relaxed bodily.
She tenses further when one of the hands on her back lifted away, but was
surprised to feel it run down her back. Once. Twice. Three times and then she
realised he was effectively petting her. To calm her down. She didn’t want to
fall for it but…but he was warm. And soft, and the reassuring and steady
movement on his large palm, stroking her back in time with the matching rhythm
(his heart beat she realised, the same from last night) in his chest which her
head was laid against was…it was nice. Soothing. She realised hazily that she
felt safe.
“You are not nothing. You don’t need to have done anything, because youdeserve
to be loved Valentine.” He whispered into her hair.
The air in her lungs rushed out in one long exhale, her chest suddenly felt too
tight for what she was feeling. It was a feeling she’d never felt before, but
it felt as though she was going to drown in it. Her eyes watered, but if any
more tears fell she hid them in the soft material covering Snape’s chest. Her
arms, which had been curled against her body, stretched out to reach partially
around his torso, and held on tightly, her little fist griping his robes as
tightly as she could. Tight enough to anchor herself against the emotions
rushing inside her, meaning she was unable to respond as she sobbed mutely into
his chest. Even if she could talk, she wouldn’t know how to say what she felt.
Although she thought he understood, because his arms tightened around her
waist, while the gentle stroked of her back never stopped.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     ooooh. BYTHEWAY. For the..action-y, running away bit, I was listening
     to the track 'The Dragon Boy' by Joe Hisashi from the movie Spirited
     Away. Look it uuuuuup its an awesome soundtrack.
     And I have a LOT of songs that go with moments of this story cos what
     else am I supposed to do on the bus? pfft.
     Thoughts? Questions? Complaints? although actually keep the
     complaints to yourself if they're too rude....who likes rude people
     ugh.
     happy reading!
     Chow my darlings!
      
     (p.s. my foundation group went to harry potter land (not the american
     one no we're too cheap) it was so cool. Although I do see it
     differently in my head so I was going around thinking 'this is all
     too small! it would never work!' I still spent a lot in their shop so
     I think J.K will forgive me. I am now the proud owner of an
     obnoxiously bright yellow Hufflepuff (woo go hufflepuff, lovable
     bastards) backpack, announcing my loyalties to the entire world
     whenever i wear it. Its possible the brightest thing i own. )
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