Liar, Liar

22: A Great Escape

Snape led me toward the home, glancing around hurriedly as he went.

"Go to the door and stand there," he ordered.

I obeyed, making my way to the decrepit door and watching him pace the area.

He pulled out his wand, and started placing many protective charms around the perimeter. "protego horribilis," he muttered, waving his wand in an arc. "protego totalum."

I watched in awe from the door as he spent a good ten minutes casting various charms. Silencing charms, charms to make wayward travelers get a bad feeling about the area and run. Charms to alert us if someone magical were to draw near.

Snape sure knew a lot of charms.

Finally, after surveying the area and deciding it was protected enough, he turned toward me. I backed into the decaying door, unsure what to do next. Or why he had brought me here.

"Let's go in," he said, opening the door with a spell. "It's not safe out here and it's best not to test the protective barrier."

I nodded silently as the door opened, revealing a rather cozy looking inside.

He locked the door behind us and started to check the windows and the house, laying more protective charms.

The entrance doubled as a living room, with two very worn suede couches in the middle of the room, being such a shade of brown that could only be crafted by time.

The walls, much like those of Snape's home in Voldemort's memory, were covered in bookshelves. The house had an open layout, allowing a view of the kitchen, which had a table in the corner.

One door led off into what was most likely a bedroom.

After lighting a few candles (with Snape's permission, of course,) the house started to look more comfortable. I refrained from exploring the closed door. I had no clue whose home we were in.

Finally, after Snape had finished triple-checking the house, he returned to the living room.

We looked at each other. Neither of us spoke until my legs completely gave out and I fell onto the couch. In fight-or-flight mode, my body had forgotten about the injuries it had taken in the past hours.

My knees had started to scab, but my jeans were torn and blood-stained. The tremble I had sustained during the torture had returned. My hands started shaking once more, and all I could do was stare at Snape helplessly.

Wordlessly, he left the room for the kitchen, where he retrieved a bag to produce some ice to put into. he approached me, kneeling before the couch I was on to examine my knees.

"Is it alright if I pull up your jean?" He asked.

I nodded, feeling the throbbing pains intensify.

He gingerly pulled up my jeans from my ankle to my knee.

Dozens of bruises flowered, purple and blue, some turning yellow at the edges. I winced upon seeing them, letting my head slope against the couch.

Tears swam in my eyes.

"Zelle, oh Zelle," he murmured under his breath, applying the ice bag to my legs while muttering healing incantations.

I said nothing back. All I could think about was the memory Voldemort had shown me and Snape's heartless announcement at the table. She means nothing to me...

It echoed in my head.

Snape peered up at me from his place on the floor. "You know I had to say that to protect you," he said. "I've told you before- you know your place. I knew Draco was listening in to our conversation when I told you, when you had come to return my sweater," he explained, gesturing to the knit sweater, dirty and ripped in strange places, that I was still wearing.