Rating: R and/or NC17
Summary: 'I want her back, Albus. I don't care what the price is, I want her back.'
Disclaimer: I own only my OC and the circumstances.
A/N: Sorry if it sucks. I'm supposed to be writing an essay now, but it's dull and boring and I'd rather do this.
Recidivus: Latin for 'The Returning'
She was cold.
Severus Snape had seen a dead body before. He'd dissected several in his training as a Potion Master. He'd attended funerals. He'd killed several people in his service to the Dark Lord. He was used to death. It was a part of life. But this was different.
It felt as though his stomach had fallen to his knees. There was a curious lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow. His eyes prickled and threatened to leak the salty tears he'd been so desperately holding in. His fingernails dug sharply into his palms as he clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking. He needed to sit down, but couldn't find the words to ask for a chair. He certainly didn't trust his legs to walk.
People often say of the dead that they appear to be sleeping. However, this is after the Undertaker has gotten hold of them and filled their veins with Embalming Potion, applied enough makeup to make them even better than they did in life, tended to any wounds or blemishes that occur with decay, and finally dressed them up and made them presentable to be viewed and cried over by grieving family members and friends. There was nothing about her now that would even remotely resemble sleep.
The fall had broken her body. Shattered it into a million pieces. Dark purple and black bruises stained her pale flesh. The cuts visible on her face and shoulders were jagged and white around the edges, bit of dirt and debris stuck in between them and dug inside. Her lower lip was split and swollen. A deep gash ran from her hairline to her cheekbone. Her nose was purple and twisted at an odd angle, broken in several different directions. He reached a trembling hand out to pick a small leaf out of her raven hair, then traced a gentle line down her shattered jaw.
A sob was ripped from his mouth, clawing it's way up his esophagus from the pit of his stomach and pushing it's way out into the silent Hospital Wing. The bitter tears he'd been fighting back finally gushed over, cascading down his ashen cheeks. He leaned forward, cupping her pale face, pressing his forehead against hers. His tears dripping onto her face, her dried blood rubbing off onto his. Her head lolled limply to the side, her broken neck unable to support it any longer. The sobs kept coming.
Severus jumped when a hand was placed on his shuddering shoulder. He straightened up fast enough to make himself dizzy and composed his features. Somehow he managed to look dignified as he roughly wiped the tear tracks from his cheeks. His cold eyes stared back defiantly into the baby blues of Albus Dumbledore's.
"I know," was all the old man said.