Crash & Burn

Chapter 1 - No Mercy, No Hope

The silence in Gissing Street was only interrupted by the heavy footsteps of black boots and the wind whistling through the gloom. The buildings were old and decayed, and to the wizard studying them, they appeared far from inviting. The night was cold and the icy wind made everything seem forbidding. The wizard sighed and headed for a high-rise flat.

Scanning the nameplates, he located, at last, the one he was seeking. He took the steps two at a time, while his mind raced, trying not to think of her. Before he knew it, he found himself with his wand clutched tightly in his hand, standing in front of her door.

Why had she not changed her name? What if somebody found her? He tried to ignore the pang of - Merlin knows what - that gnawed in his stomach. For the tenth time since he'd left Hogwarts, he was about to turn and walk away, but he had promised Dumbledore; and he always kept his promises.

Severus Snape exhaled a deep breath and whispered, "Alohomora." After hearing a soft click from the door lock, he stepped inside the flat. He glanced about the room quickly to see if she was there, but found nothing but the silhouettes of furniture barely visible against the dim light.

***

Her mother's face was twisted into a mask of pain while she tried to comfort her, but it was too late. It was over.

A bright green light had flashed towards them and hit her mother in the chest. The light was so blinding that she had to close her eyes. She never saw her die, but she heard her mother scream.

The young woman could feel the blood pumping through her veins and felt her breathing increase. It was over. No mercy, no hope - it was over. He was not there anymore to help her; she had lost him too - but not to the Death Eaters.

The woman awoke with a start and looked around her bedroom in fear. A shallow breath escaped from her constricted throat as she lay back in her bed and closed her eyes. It was just a nightmare, nothing more - nothing that you haven't experienced before. She wiped the perspiration from her brow with her hand and attempted to fall back asleep. But, she could still see the green light from the Death Eater's wand clearly in her mind, even though it had only been a disturbing dream. It was impossible for her to sleep now.

Snape took one careful step over the threshold and closed the door behind him soundlessly. The flat was not spacious, but it was comfortable enough. He walked over to the window and looked down at the dark street in order to take his mind off of things he would rather not remember right now. Still, certain memories surfaced. He closed his eyes trying to suppress the ache of regret he felt. Of course, there were many things he regretted, but this incident, involving her, continued to haunt him.

This episode always came back to torment him. He could still see her face. He could still feel her touch. Snape could still hear the lilt of her voice, as he recalled how they used to talk about everything and anything.

What Snape regretted most was not what he had done to her, but what he hadn't done. But, did he really have anything to regret? He had done what he had felt was best. He had loved her more than anything else, yet still she had left. Left him!

He had sacrificed everything in order to keep her safe, but suddenly all of that meant nothing to her. He had made certain she'd be safe even though he realized he'd have to turn away from her. He had to protect her, and the only way to do that was to remove her from the Wizarding world. He knew she would never leave him and what they had, so he had to play the villain and take actions that he despised. He had walked away when she had needed him the most - something that he would never forgive himself for. She would never forgive him, either.

Snape frowned and turned away from the window. He walked over to the fireplace and regarded the pictures on the mantle. One in particular caught his attention - a picture of her. He took it in his hands and gazed upon the face he knew so well. There she was with her flashing brown eyes and black hair. She looked just as he remembered her. Warmth spread through him; he tried to calm himself, but in vain. No, he had to stop this. He had a job to do and the job was not to dwell on regrets and bitterness over something he couldn't change now. Before replacing the picture, he caressed the image of her face with his thumb.

A few strides and he found himself standing in front of her bedroom door. He placed his hand on the latch carefully, and then hesitated. Retrieving his wand, he grasped it in his left hand. Better be safe than sorry, he remembered Dumbledore had said. Snape eased open the door, and for a second he thought of how she would react to seeing him again. But instead of stepping into her bedroom, he remained still. He hadn't opened the door wide enough to enter, and he looked down at his hand, puzzled by his indecision. He gritted his teeth and cursed himself for his lack of emotional control. It was not as if the Dark Lord were waiting on the other side!

Why didn't I stop her? Why didn't I tell her how I really felt? I knew I couldn't prevent her pain, but why didn't I, at least, try to comfort her?

He knew perfectly well; because he was Hogwarts' most despised teacher, Head of Slytherin House, Potions master, former Death Eater, and now spy for the Order. He had put his past behind him once and for all, so why did it all come flooding back to him now?

Snape turned, and stood with his back to the door and sighed. He rubbed his face with his right hand and decided he needed to think things through for a moment. Defeated by his own remorse, he seated himself on her couch without bothering to removing his hood. He sat there glaring at a harmless plant on the coffee table. He was torn between staying to relive bitter memories, and his urge to flee.

She sat on the floor beside her bed. Tonight she found it harder to escape her nightmare than ever before. Her dreams had been worse directly after she'd left Hogwarts, but thankfully, they had almost faded now, except for this one which recurred time and again.

Suddenly, she heard a noise at her door and rose instantly on her feet. She searched her bedroom in order to find something to use as a weapon in case she needed to defend herself. An intruder was in her flat!

She reached for her belt - a poor weapon but she couldn't find anything more suitable. A few breathless seconds passed, and when she realised that no one was attempting to break into her bedroom, she ventured one step toward the door. Her body tensed when she reached it, and she opened it cautiously, making no sound. She peeked out to see if something was amiss in her living room. At first she couldn't find anything suspicious, but then she froze.

Through the dim light, she could make out a man sitting on her couch. She peered at him as he pulled up his left sleeve and traced with one thin finger a mark on his arm.

With a cat-like grace, she crept toward the couch, prepared to attack the intruder. Her stomach turned as she saw what was on his left forearm - The Dark Mark! There was no tattoo like that in the Muggle world!

In an instant, everything around her became blurry. No, it was all over. She had to put a stop to it; she wanted no part of this. She had left. So, how had it been possible for them to find her? Perhaps it was a mistake, and she was merely hallucinating.

Afraid to take any chances, she tiptoed carefully behind the stranger and looped the belt quickly around his neck to strangle him.