Snape's Criminal Daughter

Chapter 12

His office was clammy as always, but for some reason, it bothered him more today. He decided that he would leave, and venture out to the grounds, probably the one place that could clear his head. Moving swiftly through the corridors, he came across no one, which suited him all the better. He had not seen her for a day and a half and doubted that he would see her again. It was only when he heard the screams did he snap out of his daze. His head snapped up, he had never heard her screams before, but who else could scream like that? It was one of pure pain, as though someone was being tortured. Tortured. Bolting back into the castle, he flies up the stairs. 

"Professor Snape?" It was the new professor. She looks like a toad he thought, a toad with pink clothes. He didn't know her name, and he didn't think he needed to. 

"Might I ask why your running? What's the rush?" Her question was innocent, but she was from the ministry, one wrong word, and he would be put in Azkaban, Dumbledore couldn't save him twice. 

"Ah, professor I was simply headed to the headmaster's office, I wasn't aware that you were arriving today. I was under the impression that you were coming tomorrow." His tone was smooth, the words flowing out of his mouth like water. He needed a quick way to leave the conversation, and fast, this wasn't going anywhere good. As she opened her mouth to respond, Dumbledore came striding around the corner. Snape never thought he would be so happy to see the old man. 

"Ah, Severus I was just coming to find you, I see you've met our new teacher, professor Umbridge." He says her name with a smile, but even he can tell he's not happy to have her here. Nodding in her direction, he walks away from the headmaster, leaving the toad standing there, mouth slightly agape. 

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Peter sat at his desk, the sky outside was clear, not a cloud to be seen. Smiling at the departing customer, he looked back down at his papers. So many bills, he didn't know how he was going to pull them all together. A noise from outside caught his attention. It was a small child, one of what he would guess to be eleven or so. She sat in his doorway. Most of his lights were off, she must have thought that he was closed. Even in the dark, he could see her piercing green eyes and short, unruly black hair. She had laid down in the empty doorway, a small bag cushioned her head and a tattered blanket, doing no good in this cold, covered her frail body.

Pity was not something he felt often, but in that moment, watching a helpless young girl, you surely, couldn't live like this, he rose from his chair and opened his door. She was started at first, but as he held it open for her, she practically ran inside. It was warmer in here, and giving her a piece of his leftover sandwich, he watched her curl up on the floor in a corner, and drift off to sleep. 

She came by his store often, and each time, he would give her something, whether it was a piece of food or an article of clothing. Sometimes, as the years passed by, he had come to find a stack of pounds on his desk, courtesy of the Black Shadow. He figured out who she was long ago, he saw the signs, he wasn't stupid. But he alway made sure that she was well. 

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Eileen's eye fluttered open, its as though they're being weighted down by rocks. The sky above her is dark, the moon just visible behind a cloud. The air is chilly, causing her to shiver. How long had she been unconscious, a day? Two? She couldn't tell. Remaining laying down, she grasps blindly for the bag. Her hand finds something small and thin. The strap.  Gasping in pain, she tries in vain to sit up. The strip of cloth wrapped around her torso is soaked in blood. The wound has closed up again, leaving dried blood caked her shirt. Her bag is lying next to her, unzipped, but all content was still accounted for. Slowly, but surely, she rolled onto her side, the one without the wound, and untied the cloth. It stuck to her skin, leaving warm blood behind. Crumpling it up in a ball, she pulls out the rest of the cloth in the bag and unrolls it. 

Shuffling around, and biting back screams and cries of pain, she moves the cloth under her mid-drift and ties it once more. Her shirt isn't helping keep in her body warmth in, and the top half of her pants are covered in blood. Clasping bag in hand, she tries to scoot closer to the edge of the roof. She must have moved during her slumber, for she's closer than she remembers. Gritting her teeth, she moves to a sitting position, biting back tears. She needs to return to the room, she can't stay up here forever, she'll freeze to death, or perhaps bleed. She prefers the later, she heard once that if you lose enough blood, you fall unconscious, then you die in your sleep. It sounded peaceful, something she had never had. A thought flits across her mind, just die here, there's no one around, you could do it. Shaking the thought from her head, she scoots closer to the edge, until her feet dangle off the side. 

Sitting on the ledge of the roof, she debates on how she's going to climb down. It took her seventeen minutes to climb to the top, and that wasn't with the wound. Now with the wound, she estimates it would take twice as long. Her fingers are already starting to freeze, she needs to move, and now. Gripping the edge, she turns around and lowers herself, until her feet find a hold. Little by little, she creeps down the wall, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her side when she moves too quickly. 

Looking down, she sees the window ledge ten feet down. Ten feet, she thinks, almost there. Moving until her feet touch the ledge, she crouches in the window. Taking deep breaths of cold air, she lowers herself into the room. Without a clock, she can't tell what time it is, but she can just barely see the sun creeping up the horizon. Dying to at least have some healing sleep before she has to move again. She lies down on the bed, drifting off to sleep once more.