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Love with Unconfinèd Wings by bluestocking79 [Reviews - 27]


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Disclaimer: These character belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me, and I'm making no money from this story.
Note: Title is taken from Richard Lovelace's poem, To Althea, from Prison, which inspired this set.



In his first days of captivity, Severus catalogued every nuance of his surroundings, searching for a clue to his location. He noted the distant clang of church bells, the tang of salt in the air, the shifting shadows within the absolute darkness of his cell.

If he could figure out where he was, there was hope that others would as well.

Whatever his captors insinuated, Severus was certain that the sentimental fools in the Order would attempt a rescue. Hermione would insist on it.

She would come. She would.

Until then, he plotted, endured and, against all instinct, he hoped.



Time passed; Severus couldn't have said how much. It was impossible to measure time in the utter absence of humanity, of food, of light. If not for the growth of his hair and the regular rounds of abuse, he'd have believed time itself had stopped.

It became more difficult to plot escape, as his senses dulled. The darkness swallowed him whole, consuming and absolute. He wondered, at times, how much was real and how much a mere trick of the dark.

When he dreamt, it was always of Hermione, who would never abandon him.

He slept as much as possible.



One day, Severus' captors taunted him with news of Hermione's death. No torture could be more crushing.

He wept silently, his face hidden.

For a painful moment, Severus considered granting his captors the information they demanded. Why should he care for the survival of others, when Hermione was gone?

Yet with thoughts of Hermione came comfort and clarity. He wouldn't honour her sacrifice with such weakness; it was unworthy of her memory. She would have fought to the death before surrendering.

He could offer no less.

He struck out blindly in the darkness, powered by vengeance and loss and love.



At least some of his blows connected, and Severus took keen satisfaction in the feel of bone breaking beneath his fists, the sound of yelping and swearing that told him he'd had a moment of victory, however small.

He paid dearly for his disobedience, naturally. The torture session that followed was vicious and endless, concerned not with information but only with punishment.

He hardly felt the blows, curses and hexes; thoughts of Hermione served as his shield, a beacon in the gloom.

They eventually withdrew, leaving Severus to curl up in the dark, bloodied in body but victorious in spirit.



"Severus? Wake up, Severus!"

He opened his eyes cautiously, hardly daring to believe the sound of her voice. Yet there she was: shimmering in the darkness, kneeling beside him.

"Hermione?" His voice was rough, nearly inaudible.

"Yes!" She beamed at him. "We've come for you. I'd never desert you; you know that, don't you?"

His heart leapt. Of course they'd lied to him; how could he have believed them? "They said you were—that you'd—"

"I know."

"I fought them. I never betrayed—"

"I know that, too." She tenderly stroked his face. "My poor, brave Severus. I'm so proud of you."



Hermione bent over Severus, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He savoured the caress of her lips, the tickle of her curls like spider's silk, the way her tears fell and anointed his wounds.

Even in this vile place, it was blissful. He relaxed into her touch, hopes of escape rekindled. She must have magically healed him; his pain was gone.

"We need to go now," she whispered. "We'll be fine. Just take my hand and trust me."

He did.

In the morning, Severus' captors found his cell still and silent. His body was lifeless—but his expression showed pure joy.


Love with Unconfinèd Wings by bluestocking79 [Reviews - 27]


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