“Severus?”
Severus Snape’s eyes snapped open the moment he heard her whisper through his mind. He had a task, and it was beyond important that he carry it through. The difficult part “ making a Horcrux “ was over, but it had left him drained of energy, and merely sitting up caused ripples of fatigue to wash over his body. But he could feel her now, he knew exactly where she was, and how difficult it was for her to remain within her body. He looked around him, the sun shone now, and the ground, though thoroughly soaked, was once again green and the sky blue. He looked to his companions, a tall, muscular built man, with matted red hair, twisted into braids staring directly at him not quite sure of what had happened. To his right a thinner man roused from his slumber, shaking the drowsiness gently away, he pushed himself up, standing taller than the other man, but he was notably darker, the braids he wore - thinner, and his skin pale. It was hard to believe that these two men had been the centre of his wife’s attention for many a year “ Finn MacCumhail was ever a fascination, and Taistellach even more mysterious that Sorcha could fathom. Severus staggered upwards, shaking from the cold and wear as he came level with the two Fianna, he matched their gazes evenly, and nodded. Finn bowed his head in understanding, watching as Severus closed his eyes, mind fixed on Sorcha, and remembering his need to be by her side.
With a loud ‘Pop!’ he Apparated away, collapsing on a wooden floor with a great thud. The room took a moment to settle into focus, though he could feel the bed pallet next to him which only confirmed that the location was the same as the one he had seen in the messenger’s memory, and the faint pulsating rhythm of Sorcha’s life forces slowly ebbing away… he was certainly in the right place. He pulled himself up with the help of the bed frame, and looked around the room, steadying himself for the magic he was about to perform. There was a very strong chance that it would not work and he would lose Sorcha anyway, but this was not a battle he was prepared to lose.
The first thing he noticed about the room was that it was far too dark, and while that had ordinarily been a preference of his own, he knew that Sorcha would appreciate a little sunshine. With a swift wave of his wand he drew the heavy emerald curtains apart and flinched at the sunlight which instantly flooded the room, it only highlighted the desperate situation he faced. He knelt on the floor beside his wife and placed a hand over her forehead; it was cold, she was cold, and she was barely there. He undid the top few buttons of her shirt and shifted it over the wound he knew to be located on her shoulder; it was heavily poulticed and the veins around it were darkened, not by poison, but by magic. Carefully he peeled back the dressing and stared at the wound, whispering incantations to measure its potency “ indeed the magic used was not so complex. He could break the curse easily, but it was healing her body after that which would prove difficult. Her body was incredibly close to death, but he’d anticipated the worst and had bought with him a small potions supply…
He fumbled in the pocket of his jacket, finding the small ebony case and drawing it out with a trembling hand. Taking a heavy breath he calmed his nerves and removed the curse, for a moment the room became stiflingly hot, but the loosed magic dissipated with the heat. Sorcha sighed, capturing Severus’s attention, he quickly unfastened the clips of the small case and ran his finger over the four remaining phials of potions; she would probably need them all. He pulled out a deep purple potion that seemed to glitter darkly in the shadows. This was not an easy potion to make under any circumstance, it took a full year to brew and most of its ingredients were extremely rare. In fact, it was one Sorcha had taught him, an Elven healing potion that required the presence of an Elf for it to be made… Sorcha had spent such times reading whilst sitting next the cauldron, as he pulled the vial from the case the faintest recollection of her frown at his ‘stupid time wasting’… he could hear her saying: “We could always do something else,” but he’d always brushed her off. Now his ‘time wasting’ would save her life, he allowed himself a small smile, satisfied with the appreciation that she would never put into words. He prised her lips apart carefully, pouring the purple liquid into her mouth, rubbing her throat gently to help her swallow. Sorcha’s entire body shook in one great wave… but the wound was still there, though less inflamed than only moments before, though the improvement was obvious, there was colour in her cheeks and her over all appearance was far more alive. He drew out the second vial from the case.
A simple potion that would ease breathing, white and smoky in colour, it seemed rather eager to be put to use. He uncorked the vial, and let the liquid free, for a minute it spun in circles between Severus and his wife, as if debating which of the pair needed its aid the most, it finally spilt just between Sorcha’s nose, a miniscule gust of potion shooting up either nostril. Sorcha heaved a great breathe, a sigh of content, or so Severus would thereby think. He watched as her chest rose and fell, listening to the soft inhale and exhale of breathe for a minute, revelling in his own success, and on some level in relief at the restoration of his wife’s life force.
The third potion he had bought was a simple strength potion, it would give her enough strength to undergo healing through an incantation. The fourth potion he drank himself, Sorcha didn’t need more heat than she already had, and Severus was beginning to tremble from his rain soaked clothing. For the moment, Severus had done all he could.
Sorcha was aware the exact moment she re-entered the realm of the living.
For a moment her eyes remained closed, trusting her ears to hear the slightest sounds, despite the relative silence she could hear the slow and heavy breathing of someone close by, and the faint clutter of a door banging shut somewhere near; her nose to smell the subtle scent of wet grass creeping through the gaps of the window, a trace of the distant forest lingered - and of course there was Severus, though his scent had slightly altered, she couldn’t mistake her husband. Sorcha then set her mind to the task of seeing to herself, she’d been wounded badly and it had been left long to fester. Whatever Severus had done had helped, but the wound remained. She opened her eyes.
The room swam in and out of focus, the blurs of browns greens and gold finally settling to their rightful places. The room was filled with moon light, reflecting the tiny flakes of gold inlaid in some of the furnishings. The table to her side held three empty vials, and a candle, which she focused upon and lit, further illuminating the room. Finally her eyes came to rest upon the figure slouched at the foot of her bed. Smiling slightly, she moved her legs - it had the desired effect.
Severus’s head snapped up, he frown in confusion looking his wife straight in the eyes. In silence they reached some kind of connection, an unspoken feeling of relief and gratitude. Sorcha smiled, the love between the two of them had never been obvious, but it existed none the less, and Severus had never been one to make public show of affections. He merely stood and drew out his wand, dutifully healing the wound at her shoulder. Sorcha relaxed as the wound closed, and slipped a cold hand into Severus’s, she squeezed it gently, realizing that there was something much greater causing him grief; she sought his eyes, but he kept them down, when eventually he looked to her, he spoke softly, “Forgive me.”
A lump formed in her throat, as he continued. “I traveled through time to find you, I was entirely unprepared, there were many things I had not contemplated. I sought help from a family of wizards somewhere near Manorbier in Wales. Meredith guided me over water to this place, and still I could not find you. I made a Horcrux in you. I took a life to save yours. Forgive me.”
Sorcha was chilled to the very core of her being. “The girl… Meredith?” Severus nodded. Sorcha thought fast, in essence she had nearly killed Severus in that their souls - bound by marriage - would have died with her. He had saved two lives by this girl.
“How can I make this right?” he asked tonelessly.
“I don’t know,” Sorcha sighed, biting her lip in concern; she placed a cold hand over her husband’s, causing him to look up and into her eyes. “We’ll find a way, Severus. You’ll see.” He shook his head and frowned bitterly, standing back from her and moving towards the door. “Where are you going?”
“I wish to be alone.” His voice echoed in her mind, causing her heart to pound uncomfortably. He wrenched his presence forcefully from her mind and swept through the doorway and out of sight. Sorcha closed her eyes and thought about how or who could help Severus now...
“Little one, when one has the advantage of time on their side they should utilise it, but consider carefully all the paths available. Time is not an easy thing to comprehend.”
Sorcha looked up at her father through a child’s eyes, her own eyes in fact, as they had been when she was much younger. His brown hair sat unbound, behind is back, to some point near his elbow, his pointed ears twitching at the sound of the river that flowed noisily beside them. His lip curled in pride at his daughter who seemed to be thinking much on his words.
“Father, does time mean the same thing to us as it does to normal people?” she asked curiously, furrowing her brows in thought.
“That would depend what you meaning time takes in the situation it is placed.” He smiled at her, encouraging further questions.
“Maybe... if someone from the future visited you, how would that affect an Elf?”
“Well, Sorcha, Elves have a different understanding of the future, many of us would claim to be aware in someway of an anomaly in time,” he replied, though his tone was slightly dull, he’d never been one to act in the usual arrogance of Elves.
“Father? How can we change time?”
Sorcha’s eyes opened immediately “ she knew what she must do.
Several days had passed and still Sorcha and Severus remained in the past. Sorcha was near to full health and indulged in the company of the court scholars and record keepers. Severus, sullen and broody, remained out of sight, and more often than not away from Sorcha. Finn and Taistellach had returned the previous day with Meredith’s body. Sorcha had kept vigil that night and had wept for the girl, steeling her resolve to right things. They had made arrangements to leave within the week. Sorcha, requesting that she might pursue one last historical lead sought out Finn, whom she found tending to his horse in the stables.
“I am glad you’re well, Sorcha,” he said, not even turning to look upon her as she entered. “I must admit, I thought you spoke of your husband in jest before all of this.” He looked to her and smiled.
“He grieves for the girl. Killing isn’t his forte.”
“I could tell. I have a feeling that we will not meet again after you leave?” It was a question.
“Probably not,” Sorcha replied quietly, the feeling that her time here was nearly over sinking further into her mind. “What would you say to one last adventure?” she said smiling, knowing that Finn wouldn’t turn down her last request.
“When do we leave?”
“Right now. Give me your hand.” He held out a leathery, calloused hand which Sorcha held between her own two for a moment, examining the scars of battles past, many of which she remembered him making. A brief wave of grief washed over her at that moment; it became apparent that she would not be there to tend to future wounds, or to be a part of future adventures. The lump that formed in her throat seemed fit to burst, and as she looked in to Finn’s reserved eyes, she clamped her jaw tightly to halt tears. Pushing aside her cheerless thoughts, she went on.
“You might find this slightly uncomfortable.”
His eyes widened sharply as a squeezing sensation came over the pair of them, starting at their very centre’s and pulsing outwards, lines of colours streaming before their very eyes, as if they were passing through places at such speed that only the colours ran with them, changing as did their location. When they finally arrived at their destination, it took some time for Finn to regain his senses, all the while Sorcha stood to his side supporting him as his body finally stopped swaying and he stood quite still.
“Where are we?” Finn asked, looking around at the tall trees. They appeared in some kind of clearing, though beyond the ring of nothingness was a vast array of gnarled and thick trees, twisted so that it did not seem that there was a way out.
“We’re in an Elven forest, to normal folk, it’s known as Arianis but it’s only really spoken of in legend. I was born here,” Sorcha replied softly. “We should move if we stay too long we’ll be caught by a patrol… that won’t hold in our favour.”
As she stepped forward a path cleared itself before here, trees untangling to reveal the way forward. They walked some way before the sound of rushing water reached them, walking out on to a plain of wild grass the source of the noise became apparent; a small river roared merrily before them, but there was no way across, and no clear way around. Finn watched as Sorcha knelt and picked what few pebbles she could from the ground. One by one she threw them into the river, as if to find something; only when a smile raised the corners of her lips did Finn see its cause “ a silver bridge, twisted into floral patterns showed the way across, a single pebble on its path.
At the other side, a beach of silver sand met them, and Sorcha turned to him. “You must leave your weapons here,” she said, unsheathing here own knives and placing them on the glittering sand. “If you do not, you cannot pass.”
Slowly Finn stripped away his blades, a thin wire and a small black vile, placing them on the beach as Sorcha had done. Finn cried out as they began to sink in to its depths. Looking back to Sorcha she nodded and turned, asking, “Can you see them? Can you see the gates, now?”
Squinting, Finn looked beyond Sorcha, lips parting in an expression of awe as two enormous wooden gates appeared, open wide, almost as if to welcome them both. Finn looked at Sorcha, unable to comprehend her connection with this place. Such rigid, perfect, and cold beauty seemed a polar opposite of the woman stood before him.
“We must find my father, Finn. He will know how to make thinks right.” Sorcha said this second part almost inaudibly, but Finn came too her side and gestured that she lead on. The streets were silent, despite the few who walked them, Finn and Sorcha marking a stark difference between the pale, ethereal creatures that called this place home. There were no buildings as such, but trees alive, grown to resemble houses, and serving their purpose grandly. For a time they walked in silence, until Sorcha stopped.
“We are here… I have to go on alone, wait for me?”
Finn nodded, watching her approach a smaller dwelling, existing in the hollow of its trunk, she disappeared within and Finn waited.
“Who goes there?” a voice cried from below.
“My name is Sorcha, I seek Niam.”
A tall Elf appeared before her; long brown hair, though tied back, stuck out at odd angles, not dissimilar to Sorcha’s own wispy hair, and his eyes, blue, were almost the exact shape of her own. Sorcha took a deep breath; he had not changed, then.
“I am Niam.”
“You once told me that time is understood differently by elves. That it is acceptable to alter time if we understood what it meant to do so.”
“I am sure that we have never met, Sorcha,” he said smiling, looking at her as though he were also drinking in their physical similarities. “Though you have the look of a Zandantius.”
“Most people would say I looked like my father.”
“Then I shall look forward to hearing so when you are born.”
Her eyes watered violently. “You also told me that most elves would claim to know of anomalies in time.”
He nodded, saying, “It is a strange sensation having you stand before me, though I’d not recognize it for a time anomaly normally.”
“I suppose, that when we do finally have the conversation I speak of, you’ll be thinking back to this one.”
Niam laughed heartily, “Of that I have no doubt. You are troubled, Sorcha, how can I help?”
“I’m sorry… I’ve not seen you for a while, and seeing you here, now, no doubt makes this more difficult. I miss you more than you could know,” she rushed, breathing fast. “But that isn’t why I’m here…” It took a while to relay the entire account of what had happened, Meredith’s sacrifice and Severus’s reaction being key, and to ask her father if there would be a way to make it right. The silence that followed was absolute, Sorcha watching as her father was engaged in deep thought. When the corners of his mouth twitched, a smile came to her own, and he spoke.
“Elves have always thought to meddle in the affairs of humans and wizards, for some reason we like to feel that we are in charge sometimes... there is a spell, one that might work, if we can travel back to the precise point this girl was killed we may be able to bind her to Severus, so that when ever you so chose to have children, your first will be her reincarnate.”
“That could work,” Sorcha breathed, thinking it over quickly. “We could do that!”
“I think, Sorcha, that it would be best if I did it alone.”
“But… I “ won’t you need help? What with the timing and all, I co”“
“No, Sorcha, he would not want you to witness this, would he?”
For a moment she thought, her father was right of course, it would only shame Severus to know that Sorcha had seen his desperation; he would not so easily forgive that. “No, father, you’re right,” she admitted. “How do I thank you?”
“Thank me?” He laughed, and as he relaxed, he said, “You already have. Now go…” He engulfed her in a bear like hug, and let her go. Watching as she set off towards the gate with Finn. When they arrived back at the King’s Hall it became apparent that leaving this time period behind had never seemed so difficult.