What Connected Us All

Rescue Me

It takes the Parkinson family four hours to pick Celia up from Hogsmeade Station. Sirius is dragged away at seven for a detention (his vigorous protests earn him another); Farren tells Professor McGonagall that she needn't wait with them at nine, and the Professor leaves by 9:30.

Only Farren remains to say goodbye to Celia. She would have liked to say something comforting, something that would take away the alarming look in her friend's eyes. But there is nothing she could say. All she could do is lace her fingers through her friend's and wait four hours for her family to arrive.

The walk back up to the castle is only survivable for Farren because of her illuminated wand. And though she still remains frightened, her mind is on different matters... horrors other than the darkness...

Farren remembers all of the deaths she has witnessed. The first being her mother when she was very young. She can remember her father and uncle informing her that Annamarie was never coming back. At first Farren had thought this to be simply another one of their horror stories, another lie. But her mother never did reappear. She remains now engraved in the girl's memory as an idyllic thought rather than an actual person.

And there have been others: distant Aunts, Uncles, and family friends. She has attended a countless number of funerals. But only one really mattered. Her lovely, elegant grandmother. Farren definitely misses her most.

The sound of her footsteps is resoundingly loud in the empty corridors. Some portraits wake from their stupors, requesting angrily for a little peace and quiet. Farren reassures them she'll be gone soon enough. It's the seventh landing, and the portrait hole couldn't be much further.

And, with the portraits satisfied and quieted, Farren shuts her eyes. They are achy and itch slightly. But it's more than that, the ache runs deeper than her eyes. Still, it is wonderful to have them closed. She feels vulnerable and for once allows it.

I am here, she thinks to the darkness. My eyes are closed. I am five feet tall, defenseless, and open. Do your worst.

For a few long moments she actually expects something to happen. Clammy hands to wrap around her ankles, wild screeching to sound, a whisper in the dark, the Boogie Man, something - anything... But there is nothing but the silence.

Slowly, her eyelashes flutter open.

"And what have we here?"

It is the sound rather than the words themselves that have Farren instantly on the defense.

"Stupefy!" she screeches before she can stop herself. But the spell has no hope of hitting anything at the odd angle it is cast from.

"Immobulus," the voice says lazily.

Farren's entire body stops working. She crumples to the ground, landing harshly onto her right side. A dull but prominent pain stabs at her rib cage, where she has fallen.

But Farren hardly notices it in her panic.

Every limb is screaming for her to run - to move, at least, and see the face of her attacker. But all she can do is search frantically in her line of vision, which is of the floor.

Someone rolls her roughly onto her back. The pain in her side stings.

A boy with gloriously long, blonde hair is smirking down at Farren.

It is Lucius Malfoy.

"Aren't we jumpy tonight? It is unwise for a pretty girl such as yourself to be roaming the corridors so late. Speaking of which, why were you - Ahh." Something seems to jog his memory. "Your friend Celia, her brother was attacked, was he not? And you, the loyal friend, stayed with her for moral support." Malfoy smiles sickeningly, his cold eyes merciless. "The demise of every Gryffindor: loyalty and friendship."

And now he's crouching down. He is so close that Farren can feel his breath hot on her neck.

"You know, I've seen the way Snape looks at you. Can't see how you're any different from the rest. Granted, you have your assets," his eyes rove her body. "But I think it takes more than that to peek old Sevy's interest."

Oh please don't, Farren thinks. Please, please, please... I don't think my sanity will recover if I go back to that. Please--

"Is there something you are hiding from us all, Miss Graham? Something that only dear Severus can see? I am quite curious to know."

Malfoy laughs at the mounting terror in her eyes. And before Farren can fully grasp the situation, she's being dragged across the ground like some absurd, life-size doll.

"Which would you prefer? The Imperius?" He cackles again. "Having you beg for more would be quite entertaining, I must admit. Or perhaps just like this... No that's no fun at all."

Farren is thrown once more, now onto a classroom floor.

"Or I could simply not use any spells," Malfoy considers, slinking beside Farren. "I like the idea of seeing you struggle and -"

The door bangs open and a looming figure stands poised at the threshold. Malfoy is on his feet in mere seconds. But then, recognizing the figure, he relaxes.

"Severus?" he says, making it a question.

Snape's gaze flicks from Malfoy, to Farren, and then to the wand in Malfoy's hand. "Narcissa is looking for you," he says, in tones of frightening composure. "She is a great friend to me, Lucius."

"You won't - You won't tell her, will you?"

"Informing her of your infidelity would only distress her further. It seems Bellatrix has yet to return from her latest duty for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But if I catch you again, I will not be so inclined to turn a blind eye... Go."

Malfoy gives Farren a sideways glance and Snape adds, "I will modify her memory."

Snape remains still and unmoving until he hears the sound of the closing door. And when they are finally left alone, he raises his wand. "Rennervate," Severus says, with a quick wave.

All at once movement and sensation rushes back to Farren. She tries to simultaneously shove her skirt down and clutch at her right side. Waves of pain are roaring through her body and she's gasping. The gasps turn into sobs, the sobs become hysterical tears, and it is as though Farren Graham is unraveling at the seams. She rocks backward and forward, panting between tears for breath. But breath isn't coming fast enough. She is suffocating. Oh God, she's drowning in the pain.

Eventually, finally, her spasms subside and Farren lies motionless, curled, still clutching what she suspects is a fractured ribcage.

"Where does it hurt?"

Sometime during everything, Snape had moved to crouch beside her. Her back is turned to him. His voice and its assurance are like cold ice on burning flesh.

"Here," she says, voice thick and very much unlike her own.

There is a moment's hesitation where Snape asks silently for her permission.

Farren nods.

He lifts her shirt slightly to examine the damage.

"Do you think you can stand with my help?"

"I - yes."

Snape puts her arm around his neck and they rise slowly together.

"There's a room down the hall where I can brew a mending potion. Are you able to make it that far?"

Farren almost asks why they don't just visit the Hospital Wing. But then she remembers. Snape is not there to save her, but to clean up after Malfoy... Isn't he?

She nods again, wincing.

"I can carry you, if you'd like. You are small enough -"

"No. Just help me walk."

They begin to hobble down the corridor, Severus carrying most - if not all - her body weight. But after Farren groans involuntarily for the third time, he commands her to stop. And, turning a deaf ear to her weak protests, Snape lifts Farren into his arms.

"We are here, but I must put you down to summon the door."

Farren watches as he passes by three times with his eyes closed. She is on the verge of voicing her confusion when a door suddenly appears.

He lifts her again and they walk through the newly summoned door.

Farren isn't quite sure what she'd expected to be inside, but it surely hadn't been this. The room is large and laden with several different colored vials, and bubbling cauldrons propped on wooden workbenches, and an elevated sofa stowed in a corner.

Snape places her carefully onto the sofa.

"The damage is not too severe. I am capable of fixing it, but it might feel a little sore for a day or two. And," he hesitates, "you will have to stay here the night. Under my care."

"That's fine. As long as..." but Farren trails off.

"No one knows or asks questions," Snape finishes, sounding rather bitter.

She does not answer. But that seems to be answer enough for him and he turns away briskly.

"Wait!" Farren grabs his hand, desperate to keep him there longer.

When he turns back, Severus's eyes look fixedly at the hand touching his. She cannot determine whether this reaction is good or bad, but decides not to let go.

"Did you really find us because of Narcissa?" Farren asks quietly.

He shakes his head.

"And... are you going to modify my memory?"

Another slow shake of the head. "No."

She releases her hold.

After a second's pause, Snape steps back to a nearby cauldron.

Farren's head throbs where Malfoy had pulled at her hair. She is unbearably embarrassed for having been found by Snape in that position. Would he think her tarnished now? Or weak for crying? Farren feels as though she is. But it had all just been too much. The entire day was... still is.

Time passes. The hiss of the cauldron is soothing. She finds that by listening to the light clinking of the glass vials, the pain in her body subsides. Snape has to rouse her from a half-sleep when he returns.

He hands over a cup containing a watery substance within it. "Drink this."

The instant the hot liquid touches her tongue, Farren feels considerably better. It warms her throat and seems to spread throughout every vein and blood vessel.

"What is this?" she slurs. "Draught of Peace? Or a warming solution?"

"Earl Grey tea, actually," says Snape with a slightly curled lip.

"Ah." She peers back down at the mug in her hands. "Well it is... excellently brewed tea."

"You are utterly unfathomable." And to Farren's surprise, she sees the sincerity in Severus's face. "You have been sexually assaulted tonight. And now, barely an hour later, you are making jokes."

"All part of the charm, I suppose," she says with a weary smile.

Snape turns under the pretense of extracting a vial, but Farren catches the flash of teeth he attempts to suppress.

"I have to administer this to you every six hours." He checks his watch. "You may rest, if you so desire, but I will wake you at five o'clock."

"And where will you be in the meantime?"

These simple words are Farren's way of expressing her desire for his presence.

"I will be here." And he sits on a chair next to the sofa.

"You can -" All of a sudden, every word in her brain seems silly. How can she convey her gratitude? "I mean, you don't have to stay awake. There must be an alarm somewhere," looking about she spots a clock on the bedside table. "I can set it -"

"If I'd wanted to set an alarm, I would have. Go to sleep, Farren."

"Severus-"

"What?" He is beginning to look annoyed.

"Thank you."

For a split-second his eyes soften. The harsh lines on his forehead disappear and she sees him for what he truly is: a tortured teenaged boy. Nothing more and nothing less...

But the moment ends and Snape returns, defensive and angry. "And where was your paramour tonight? Did he not have the decency to wait with you?"

"Don't you dare," Farren warns. "Don't you ever blame Sirius for the weakness and cruelty of other men! He is the greatest -"

Snape makes a snarling noise, hurtling himself out of the chair and toward her. And suddenly he's kissing her.

The kiss does not change. It doesn't soften in its progression. In fact, it becomes even more aggressive, as though they both intend to smother each other with their kiss. But it is passionate. Dear God, there is more passion in that one kiss than most people hope to have in their lives. Her hand reaches behind his neck in response, imploring him to press his body closer to hers. He groans softly. But it isn't enough. She wants more than this connection of lips. Sliding further down, Farren forces him to mount the sofa and his hands creep slowly up her stomach. They are so close. A little further and he would cup her, hold her completely and utterly under his power-

But then abruptly Snape breaks away from her, face contorted in self-revulsion.

"This... is not the right time," he says, still panting slightly. "You are tired and need rest." And, with a little shake of the head, he stalks to another side of the room, evidently not trusting himself enough around her.

After a few stunned moments, Farren lies back down onto the sofa. And as she lies there - not even entertaining the idea of sleep - Farren has a sort of epiphany. This... whatever it is with Snape would be the single strangest thing to occur in her life. She'd ride it out for all that it's worth, because she knows (though she isn't sure how) that it could never be recreated again. It would be forever unique, and remembered, and wholly irreplaceable.

The relationship is wrong, yes. It is disloyalty to Sirius and despicable. But truthfully, it doesn't feel like that at all because they are two entirely different things. Like two separate parts of her soul. God has made Farren this way. Made her into a walking contradiction. So can she really be blamed for working with what has been given to her?

All she wants is to live. It's as simple as that. She wants desperately to live life to its fullest potential. She wants to be fulfilled. She wants to be happy. Is that such a terrible thing?