The Death Debt

Chapter 10

When Severus awoke, his brain felt stupid and fuzzy and useless. His meticulously packed boxes of painful memories had fallen from their shelves and were spilling out from between his ears. So much anxiety, and pain, and fear had engulfed him and, unable to cope with it all, his mind had switched it off, humming with static.

It took him a moment to realize, this is not my bed. He felt warm and comfortable, he was lying on satin-covered clouds, and when he blinked his eyes open he saw he was surrounded by white gauze. There was a shadow tip-toeing past his bed, toward the door, a shadow in a dressing gown with tangled curls.

"Black?" Severus asked, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth.

Black paused, his hand still wrapped around the brass doorknob. "Just letting you know breakfast has been served. Go downstairs two flights and make a left when you're ready," he said and slipped out of the room, as silent as a cat.

Severus sat up. He vaguely remembered a house-elf taking charge of him yesterday, but not much beyond that. They must have installed him in a guest bedroom; it was luxuriously furnished, complete with a large, canopy bed made of dark wood, a Ming vase filled with peacock feathers sat in one corner, and the walls were papered in painted grey silk. Clothes had been left for him on a leather, wingback chair beside the white marble fireplace.

His feet landed against the parquet floor and he was surprised not to feel the first shock of cold running up the soles of his feet. Even the floors were heated in this place. The clothes fit him perfectly: a crisp white shirt, trousers, a simple robe made of some type of wool that almost seemed to shine in the sunlight. He felt dirty in them, grubby, the ends of his oily hair must be leaving stains on the collar and shoulders. They'll all laugh at him if he goes downstairs wearing this. They'll kick him out. Where would he go? He doesn't have a home anymore. His father is dead, and his mother... he's an orphan.

The thought hits him like a curse. He used to read so many books about plucky orphans – Anne of Green Gables, Great Expectations, Jane Eyre, A Little Princess, The Secret Garden – who go through harrowing adventures and find their own families, a family who really loves them. How many times had he wished to be one of those orphans? Free and untethered, on some grand adventure, and at the end of it there would be new parents waiting for him with open arms.

Untethered. He was untethered. Peopleless. Who did he belong to?

Severus collapsed onto his knees as the tears started to fall. He clung tightly to the arm of the chair as he wept. He wished he had never found that stupid book. Wished he hadn't evoked that Debt. Wished Tobias had never died. If he was alive, Severus would be home right now, with his mother, and even if it wasn't good, at least it was something, but now– now–

Severus scrubbed at his face. He couldn't just stay in here and cry all day. What if Black found out? He had to get up, he had to keep moving. He had to right the boxes, he had to pack away the memories.

Severus stood up clumsily, his body twitching with half-aborted movements as if he wasn't sure which way he wanted to go. He wished he was a bit more like Lucius, his easy stride, the elegant glide, the twirl of his cloak when he spun on his heel; Severus practiced walking like him sometimes, when he was alone (not that he would ever, ever admit to it; how embarrassing). Lucius had always been kind to him, putting up with Severus's puppy crush his first and second years, tagging along after him everywhere despite the Marauders teasing him, "Go and tattle to Mummy!"

He still wrote to Severus sometimes, giving advice on his studies, encouraging him to become more involved in civics and politics. It's not always about what you know, but who you know, Lucius had written. If you want to secure a good job after graduation then you need to learn how to network. You should join the Junior Death Eater Association. That's a good way to meet the right sort of people. Don't pay attention to that horrible gossip. I know The Daily Prophet and those other rags like to paint the Death Eaters as a terrorist group, but it's all lies and politicking. The Muggleborns are worried they're going to lose their vice grip on the Ministry if they lose the upcoming vote, so they have to resort to slander.