𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙽𝚄𝙼 » 𝚂𝚂/𝚁𝙻

𝚇𝚇𝚇𝚅𝙸𝙸𝙸 >> 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙾𝙾𝙳

< 3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK, 3 DAYS >

There was a time when Severus ran away for two days.

It had been in his fifth year, when the entire world beat down over his head, and he had no choice but to take cover from it. He went home for the holidays, and his mother had prepared the most exorbitant dinner she could afford. His father had brought home an even pricier bottle of whiskey, which he downed dry until he passed out, his sleeping and bubbling lips laying against the table as Eileen and Severus ate the chicken and potatoes in a silent daze.

"We may not celebrate Christmas, Sevie, but it gives a good reason to enjoy the food everyone else does," his mother said with a contrived tone of cheer, pointing at his plate with the end of her fork. "Eat up, love. Don't let it go to waste."

He forced himself to eat. "I don't want to live like this." He felt sick.

Her lips quivered. "Pretend he isn't here," she said in a voice that was too airy, too weak. "He's quiet enough where it makes no difference. Enjoy this dinner and then this week we can go into the city."

But they didn't go into the city. The car needed a replacement engine and they hadn't the funds for it, leaving Eileen screaming at Tobias because he had spent the finances they could have used for it on alcohol. Tobias, who had a headache and couldn't think clearly, regorged his stomach lining into the sink and struck her across the nose. Blood poured down her mouth and onto the floor, and she sobbed in pain and fear, neither of the two noticing as their son slipped silently out the door and took a bus into London.

It was cold and there was snow, and he slept outside on a bench for two nights consecutively, using whatever warming spells he could muster to keep him from freezing overnight. He spent his days in libraries and communal spaces, not doing or waiting for anything. The police discovered him on the morning after the second night away, and they brought him back to the doorstep of his home, where Tobias was anticipating his arrival inside.

"You never run away again, boy," said his father, whose eyes were dark without sleep and red around the edges. He did not strike him. He did not raise his voice. He cleared his throat and wiped his eyes and then pretended he hadn't been crying. And then he took some pills and some water and wandered slowly upstairs. Severus didn't see him for the rest of the week, and he never directly spoke to him again.

Severus discovered that even monsters have the capacity for care. He discovered that his father loved him, even though he still isn't fully clear on how much that was.

He thinks about his father now. He thinks about how pusillanimous he was, acting out physically to escape what he was facing in his head and heart, hiding from his suffering and his love and his fear. He thinks of himself now, thinks of how far he has come in terms of escaping what his father taught him. Here he is, facing his fears, living his love, running through the forest in pursuit of all that is good, even with a history of all that is terrible. He had the choice to become his father. He let the opportunity slip away.

The chilled air of early dawn eats at his already-pained skin, turning it painfully numb. His knuckles, grasped strongly around his wand, are bright red in the winter cold. Remus is next to him, running just behind, chasing Peritus as Severus himself goes after Slughorn. They speak no words; as the older wizards ahead shout as many spells as they can shoot while running, Remus and Severus perform them all silently, having learned precisely how to use anything with the mere intention of it.

"You'll only tire yourself if you keep running," Remus calls out to them. "Stop now and we can talk it over!" His voice is strong and full in the dawn. Severus loves him.