Snape's Criminal Daughter

Chapter 22

She wasn't at the feast. He had scanned the table for only a moment before he concluded she was absent. He had seen her a week ago in his classroom, and as usual, she hadn't said a word to him and he expected nothing less from her. The past two months had been almost torture for him. 

She hadn't said a word to him or had acknowledged his presence when she came to the weekly lessons which he suspected she only attended because Dumbledore forced her too. And he felt as though he couldn't force her much longer. He hadn't spoken a word to her, and every time she left, he had to restrain wishing her well and to not do anything stupid. 

And now, sitting at the staff table, looking over the babbling students, he fears the worst. She wasn't at their last lesson a day ago and she doesn't sit among the students. But something else catches his eye. Potter. He sits alone, none of his friends sitting around him. He expected, at the least, for Granger to be with him, but no, he is alone. 

But then the doors open and Weasley comes running in, his robes dripping wet, a panicked look on his face. Granger isn't with him and he runs straight up to the staff table, straight to Madam Pomfrey. He gasps for breath, then speaks. 

"There's a student on the quidditch field. She's dead. Or at least, she looks dead." He leaps to his feet. Dead. She's dead. Dumbledore also gets to his feet, but more slowly than him. 

"Poppy quickly, to the field. Just what do you think you're doing Severus?" Dumbledore looks to him but then whispers in his ear. 

"We don't know it's her Severus, my good man." But there's a feeling in his soul that he knows that it's her. And with a swish of his cloak, he stalks after them. It's freezing outside and raining, black clouds strewn across the sky. Weasley was almost running, and now, that they have walked across the field, does a figure standing in the dark and he can't quite tell who it is. Only when they move closer can he see, Its Granger. She's standing with her wand drawn, muttering under her breath. It's all he can do not to run to her, but the temptation becomes unbearable when he see's the figure on the ground. 

Eileen.

Beside him, Poppy has sucked in a breath and the twinkle from Dumbledore's eyes have vanished, leaving a concerned look etched across his face. He runs to her side, and now that he see's her up close, he realizes that Weasley wasn't exaggerating, she does look dead. Her eyes are open, staring vacantly, and her body is ice cold. Her skin is pale, paler than usual, and her usual short, black hair is longer, curlier, and unkept. 

He crouches on the ground, knees hitting the frozen grass underneath him, and lays a hand on her cheek. Ice cold. Her eye's flutter shut and he trembles. No. No no no no. He will not have her die in his arms. Scooping her up gently, he turns to Dumbledore, who now, it questioning Granger. 

"I tried levitating her into the castle, but the spell wasn't working Professor, I sent Ron to find Madam Pomfrey." Poppy is beside him, trying to pry her from his arms, but he stalks away toward the castle, nearly running. 

"Severus, please! She is my patient, let me handle her." He continues walking as though he hadn't heard her at all. They enter the hospital wing, and only now does he let her go, lying her on the closest bed. Poppy shoo's him out of the room, insisting she has room to work with her patient. Grudgingly, he obey's but does not head back to the feast, instead, he returns to his office and sits behind his desk, lost in thought. 

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She can't open her eye's. Expected, but still, it throws her off. She feels stiff as a board and can't move a muscle. Memories play in her head, as she can't see anything in front of her. The cold. The rain. The thunder. The fire. The robes. The robes. Who's were they? Dumbledores? No, she had never seen Dumbledore wear black robes, only brilliant colors, and she didn't think she was going to see him wear anything else. So who's could they be? A doctor? That must be it because the only person she has seen wear black robes is someone who wouldn't save her if the world was ending. 

How long as she been here? A day? Two? Three? She can't tell, and there's something inside of her that tells her to lay here, to simply die, to let everything go, to let the world around her keep on moving without her. And then something snaps her out of her thoughts, it's shuffling, or maybe walking, she can't tell. 

"Headmaster, I've tried everything I know, and I mean everything! Nothing! Not even a word, nor a move from her. She could be dead as far as I know, there are times when she doesn't have a heartbeat! Headmaster, she's as good as dead!" The voice that reaches her ears is unfamiliar and high pitched. She feels a weight on the end of her bed, someone has sat down and she thinks it's Dumbledore. Her thought is confirmed when she hears a response. 

"She's not dead Poppy, merely biding her time. She'll come back." He sounds so confident, she wished she could slap him. I won't come back, I don't want to come back, she mentally screams at him. Another pair of footsteps echoes across the room, accompanied by a swish of a cloak. She hears Poppy mutter something about leaving them be and she leaves the room, leaving her with the stranger and Dumbledore. 

"She looks dead." Snape. Snape is standing beside her sickbed, talking about her with Dumbledore. She wants to give him a piece of his mind. 

"I'm aware Severus."

"You said Poppy tried everything." 

"Yes."

"Then why is she still like this." 

"I have my suspicions."

"Don't you always?" She hears a soft laugh from Dumbledore and the scraping of wood and feels him move closer. She thinks he just pulled up a chair next to the bed. 

"Will she be alright?" He asks, she nearly does wake up at this remark. Snape cares? No, that was impossible, Snape hated her, she knew that. But what touches her face next places doubt in mind. She feels a smooth, slender finger pushing the hair from her eye. It's gentle, and she almost can't believe it's Snape's. 

"She'll be alright Severus, give her time." 

"It's my fault."

"How on earth is it your fault?" 

"I slapped her." 

"That was months ago Severus, she's been surely long before she met you. I think it runs in the family." She ponder's this. Runs in the family? What is that supposed to mean? But thinking about it, she comes to a conclusion. She's related to Snape, that's the only explanation, or, Dumbledore knew someone else who's related to her. She doesn't want to think about it. 

She feels the weight from the end of her bed vanish, indicating the Dumbledore has risen, and not long after she hears footsteps leaving the wing. But Snape doesn't leave, in fact, it's long before he does.