Uncanny Snake

XXIII - Black Valentine

The days passed in a haze, my motivation to be productive ever so slowly dwindling. Severus' workload never got lighter, but he always made time for me, whether it was getting me a cup of tea, or merely holding my hand to intimidate the dark thoughts that lingered. He was hesitant to leave my side, and at first glance, I thought he was overreacting, but spending a day all by myself proved quite daunting. The familiar pang of loneliness and depression only served to fuel my anxiety, and it grew worse with every passing minute.

I hadn't seen a soul other than Severus in what seemed like ages, part of me afraid of what others would say, how they would look at me. The thoughts sent my heart racing. I focused on my breathing, in, hold, and out. Lately, my fingers found themselves wrestling one another for attention, the thoughts of companionship drowning any sense of self I had. Unfortunately for me, Lockhart had loose lips, and the whole castle knew everything there was to know about Rynne Salazar Slytherin.

I was tired of lies, secrets, and rumors, it all made my head ache, and I could no longer stand the uncertainty, and existential crisis that came flooding through the gates. My discovery had sparked a controversial topic of discussion; the Dark Lord. The Daily Prophet only reported on Death Eater raids, escapees, massacres, and other dark affairs, but never on the man pulling the strings. Only one name came to mind, Rita Skeeter. I never understood people like her, people who took joy in ruining the lives of others, no scratch that, the woman had made a career of it. Just picturing her face, flushed my cheeks with rage.

I remained seated on Sev's bed, legs crossed underneath my form as I stared blankly at the wall, hands intertwined while my mind raced, anxiety pulsing not too far behind. I was lost in thought, my mind unable to register as the bed dipped, and looking over my shoulder, my terror-stricken face softened. "Sev," I spoke out in a hushed tone. The breath I had been holding, released itself, and I blinked a few times. "Sorry, it's going to take me a while." He didn't mind. His knuckles brushed my cheek, eyes holding a tenderness that made me wonder if this man was Severus.

My mind always found a way to imagine the worst possible scenarios, and I did not have the power to leave his quarters, I was afraid. The past few weeks, I felt invincible, ready to take on the world, but now my throne had crumbled, and I was left to gather the pieces. Everyone was acutely aware that me isolating myself was not healthy, but I didn't care. "You need to stop worrying about what others will say, their opinion doesn't matter." If he had been anyone else, I would have called him out, but this was Severus Snape, the slimy bat of the dungeons. If anyone had a right to talk about such a sensitive topic, it was him.

"I don't want to deal with others right now," I whined, pulling the covers up to my chin, retreating to cocoon myself.

"You are being childish!" Severus sneered, and I felt his hands tugging at the covers, unsuccessfully prying them away from me. "Rynne," he snapped.

"No."

"You're making excuses."

"And I have the right to!" My grip on the covers tightened as Severus heaved out a frustrated sigh. There was a limit to his patience, and I was bordering on the edge of that line.

"That-! You're depressed. You're hardly eating, and you've spent the entire week cooped up in my quarters, brooding endlessly. I know better than anyone the pain you're going through right now, but you need to snap out of it before it develops into a bigger problem, because I won't be able to help you after that." I pinned Severus down with a look, eyes narrowing on his furrowed brows. It was worry, a pure unbridled concern that drove him to pull out the soapbox. He let out a defeated sigh, running a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least come to dinner, you haven't eaten in two days, and tea does not count as food."