Isn't He Lovely-Professor Snape

Summer Pt 2

In the early morning light, with the sun gradually painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, the task of rousing my friends from sleep fell upon me. My first stop was Ginny's room, where Hermione was crashing for the night. As I stepped in, I caught my reflection in a mirror, and the sight horrified me. A black eye and numerous cuts marred my face, rendering me unrecognizable. Choking back tears, I steeled myself and gently woke Hermione.

Her eyes flickered open immediately, registering a mix of surprise and concern as she saw me. Without uttering a word, she sat up, pulling me into a tight hug in a fraction of a second. We lingered there for a while, the weight of unspoken pain palpable in the air, tears silently streaming down our faces. Though Hermione undoubtedly had questions, we left Ginny's room in a shared understanding, seeking solace in Ron's room, where Harry also slept.

I settled into a corner chair, needing a moment to catch my breath. The pain in my head and stomach persisted, a harsh reminder of the ordeal. The room was cloaked in a heavy silence as we navigated the delicate dance of comforting one another amid the unspoken shadows that lingered in the early morning glow.

The urgency in Hermione's voice cut through the morning haze as she practically screamed at them to wake up. "Get up, you two! Niamh's back!" she hollered, the intensity of her words piercing the drowsy atmosphere.

In response, both Harry and Ron jolted upright, scanning the room in search of me. Harry was the first to spot me, his eyes widening in shock. Without hesitation, he leaped out of bed, rushing over to envelop me in a tight hug. "Oh my gosh, Niamh, are you okay?" he exclaimed, genuine concern etched across his face.

"I'm fine now. You don't know how much I missed you all," I replied, my voice choked with emotion as Harry reluctantly let go.

"Bloody hell, Niamh, you don't look okay. Tell us what happened," Ron interjected, sitting up in bed and joining us.

Hermione shot him a stern look before nodding at me, silently urging me to share my story. "Well, first, I want to apologize for leaving without telling you guys. But I left to go find Snape and confront him. I know it was stupid, but it felt right at the time," I confessed, the weight of my actions hanging in the air as I began to recount the events that led to this unexpected reunion.

Pausing to catch my breath, I continued, "Anyways, I found him in his private room, but the Death Eaters were with him. Bellatrix kidnapped me and took me to Malfoy Manor. I was tor—" My voice wavered, and tears streamed down my face. "I was tortured to give information about you, Harry, but I didn't tell them anything. I was able to escape because they didn't chain me up, and Severus—Snape found me somewhere and saved my life. He brought me here this morning," I quavered, my nerves evident in my shaky words.

Bringing up Snape was a daunting task, but I had promised to be open with my friends.

"I'm so sorry, Niamh," Harry sniffled, his eyes filled with remorse. "It's all my fault."

Reaching out, I grabbed his arm. "No, it's not. It's mine. I was stupid, Harry. I would do anything to protect you."

"What about Snape? Did he try to save you any other time?" Hermione questioned, her curiosity and skepticism evident.

"No, he checked up on me when we were alone, but other than when I escaped, he didn't," I responded.

"I still don't trust that git," Ron hissed, his suspicion evident.

"But he didn't do anything to you, right?" Hermione pressed.

"No, of course not! He simply healed me and then sent me here. I made it clear that I was supporting Harry."

"Everyone was so worried about you when you were gone. People were overwhelmed with grief," Hermione commented, her words revealing a side of the situation I hadn't considered.

The weight of the concern others had felt for me added another layer to the complex emotions surrounding Dumbledore's death, making me hope that my absence hadn't overshadowed their need to grieve.

        𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼

As we continued our conversation, catching up on the time I'd been absent, my friends delved into their plans. The weight of the conversation intensified as Hermione shared the necessity of Obliviating her parents, a task I knew too well, having not seen my own parents for over a year, burdened by the constant worry for their safety.

"I think I need to do that as well," I whispered, a heaviness settling in my chest.

"Let me do it," Hermione pleaded, her eyes reflecting empathy and understanding.

Secretly grateful, I admitted, "I don't think I would be mentally strong enough to do it myself. Are you sure? I think it's too much to ask."

"Don't worry, I'll do it tonight. You need your rest, Niamh," she reassured, guiding me out of Ron's room and leading me to Ginny's. I laid down on the bed, exhaustion creeping over me, and almost immediately succumbed to the pull of sleep. The events of the day had taken a toll on my body and mind, and the prospect of Hermione handling the delicate task of altering my parents' memories brought a sense of relief amid the lingering turmoil.

        𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼

The remainder of the summer unfolded in a whirlwind of planning and research, with Harry unveiling crucial information about Horcruxes and their pivotal role in the battle against Voldemort.

As my physical strength gradually returned, I embraced a rigorous workout routine, determined to fortify myself in every possible way. The stark reality of being kidnapped had been a wake-up call, motivating me to become stronger and more resilient.

Wary of potential threats, I remained in close proximity to the Burrow, a decision supported by Mrs. Weasley for my safety. Unsure if the Death Eaters even considered me a significant target, the precautionary measures seemed necessary. However, as the weeks passed, the confined safety began to feel claustrophobic, an overwhelming sense of restlessness creeping in.

Amidst the tension, the arrival of the twins provided much-needed reprieve. Their infectious humor and innate ability to make me laugh acted as a balm for the accumulating stress. In those moments, surrounded by their light-hearted banter, the weight of the impending battle momentarily lifted, leaving behind a sense of camaraderie and comfort.

        𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼

Anticipation buzzed in the air as the eve of Bill and Fleur's wedding approached. The prospect of celebration amidst looming war injected an unusual mix of excitement and tension into the atmosphere. Mrs. Weasley, understanding my eagerness to partake in the joyous occasion, reassured me and even arranged for guards to ensure my safety within the protective confines of the tent.

The day of preparation arrived, and Hermione and I found ourselves engrossed in setting up the tent. It was a magical space, adorned with enchanting silverware and tables intricately arranged. As we busied ourselves with decorations, laughter echoed within the canvas walls.

"Damn, Hermione, we did a fantastic job!" I exclaimed, surveying our handiwork with a satisfied grin.

"That we did. It's going to be a night to remember!" Hermione agreed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

Little did we know the truth behind her words, that the night would indeed be etched in our memories, but not for the joyous reasons we had anticipated. The tent, a vibrant canvas of celebration, held the promise of a fleeting respite from the impending darkness of war.