When She Spoke (Marauders Era)

Chapter Twenty-Four

"I know," she responded a tad too soon. "Er- sorry."

"Yeah."

Severus looked cold and desolate, and it made Lark's eyes burn just to watch his breath float over the thin air like thoughts from the human mind. His long, bony fingers shook uncertainly, and his feet traced circles in the light frost on the cement pathway.

"I think I missed you," she blurted out, regretting it as soon as she let the words escape. It was true, of course, but she wasn't certain that it would be forever.

He didn't have to agree, because words couldn't even brush the surface of all the emotions that were slowly building up inside of him. All Severus had to do was invite himself over the threshold and give his friend a lighthearted, well deserved hug.

He wasn't as tall as Sirius, so Lark could rest her head comfortably on his shoulder and feel like she belonged, like a missing puzzle piece. Then again, his touch could never make her heart thump like Sirius's did.

"What's wrong, Lark?"

She pulled back, brushing all of the troubling thoughts from her mind and rushing to the sink to fetch them both some tea.

"See, that's just it," she mumbled, flicking the handle and watching as a rush of icy water escaped the long, silver faucet. It splattered at the bottom the the sink before Lark came to her senses and thrust the dark blue tea kettle under it. "I'm not sure I want to talk about it, Sev. Is that alright? Can we just pretend for a day that we don't have any problems?"

"Well-" he squirmed on top of the barstool, "- isn't that what we always do?"

She set the kettle down on top of the newly polished gas burner with a clang and watched, mesmerized, as it sputtered to life. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We both have these unavoidable issues, and you know it. Do you think that I didn't notice that you just up and started talking one day after not speaking for the whole four years I'd known you? You love to talk, Lark. You could never have just shut up for four years straight."

"I do like to talk," Lark admitted, casually adjusting the left sleeve of her sweater. "But, see, Sev, that's what I like about us. You don't ask about my voice and I don't ask about your bruises-"

She trailed off, slowly taking notice of his paling features. Never once had she even brought up the bruises and scars covering his back. She'd known they were there since third year, when they'd gone swimming in the Black Lake, but never had the heart to ask him about it, knowing that anything he's kept from her must've been completely necessary.

"Sorry."

"Yeah," said Severus bitterly.

"But, er," she pressed forward slowly, "Why do you have so many bruises?"

His knuckles clenched white over the granite countertop, and she took notice of his cheeks beginning to flush angrily. She could hear the kettle quietly hissing from the stove, though it only sounded like a brief echo as Severus's lip trembled with discomfort.

"My father."

She let her eyes rise from the flames slowly, so that the orange-gold hues drifted to the bottom of her dark irises.

"Merlin's beard!" Lark exclaimed, horrified by the thoughts that were oozing into her mind. "You don't mean-"

"Yeah, I do," the greasy-haired boy replied bitterly, fiddling with the gradually loosening seams on his pockets. She rushed forward suddenly, officially eager to help her friend in any way possible. He stiffened, taking an even tighter hold on the counter. Concerned, Lark cautiously outstretched her small, pale hand to brush aside a strand of his charcoal hair. She was startled when a bright red scar was revealed at his left temple, outlined in white and seemingly aged.

"Severus," she murmured slowly, retracting her hand to move it to his. His fingers were cold and smooth, as if he'd spent hours ridding them of dirt and sin and worry, and they intertwined with hers as if they'd been molded together.

"Your turn," he cleared his throat, letting the corner of his lip twitch into a smile.

"Er-" she laughed nervously. "I don't believe that we were taking turns."

"Oh, c'mon, Lark!" he whispered sadly. "You've gotta say it now that I have. Tell me all of the things I never wanted to know."

Her breath caught in her chest, and she squeezed his hand a bit harder. This was Severus; she could tell him everything. Most everything.

"Skip," she joked nervously.

He frowned, "Lark, you can't just ignore every little issue in your life. It's all going to come back to you some day and you're going to regret it."

"No, I'm not!" she argued, barely even noticing the tea kettle squealing behind her. Lark could feel her cheeks beginning to flush angrily.

"Of course," he muttered sarcastically. "Where's Tom, anyways? Why are you home alone?"

"I'm sixteen!" she protested, nearly shouting as she squeezed the circulation out of Severus's hand. "I'm perfectly safe!"

"For Salazar's sake, Lark, you're not even sixteen yet!"

Her eyes flared dramatically, and a fire ignited in her chest that she had never even known was there.

"Get out of my house, Snape."

"What?" he asked, confused. The kettle was still shrieking exasperatedly, and the crisp air was beginning to faintly smell of burning metal.

"My birthday was in October," she snapped cooly. "It's been October fifteenth since the day I was born... on October fifteenth, and the date hasn't changed since we met four years ago."

"Lark, I'm sorry, I just-"

"Get out," she said softly, raising her left arm to point him to the door.

He rose from the barstool and took a quick step before freezing in surprise. Severus's mouth formed a frightened "O" as his eyes locked on her forearm, which had been exposed when her grey sweater slid down her arm only seconds ago.

He trembled there like a leaf in the wind for only a second, and Lark thought that maybe he would crumple to the ground. Still, she remained in the same confident, demanding stance, quivering only a little.

"What's that on your arm?" he asked, though he already knew exactly what it was.

Lark looked down, almost daring the universe to throw her yet another curveball. Alas, the universe was quite a daring character. The Dark Mark writhed over her skin, almost mocking the poor girl.

"Lark, did y-y-you..." he stuttered, trying to find the right words. "You d-d-didn't! I can h-h-help!"

"Get out," she repeated, louder now. "Just leave!"

"Do you know what that is, Lark?"

"Get out!"

Severus left slowly, never tearing his eyes from Lark and always offering an apology without words. Still, she stood strong and tall, refusing to look him straight in the eye. He left the door open when he walked out, letting the cool air rush into the already chilling household with a shocking realness. She rushed over quickly, not wanting to watch his tall figure fade away on the long cobblestone pathway leading away from the mansion.

Lark leaned back on the stiff, unmoving wood and sank to the ground, letting her forehead sink into her knees. Her damp, dark hair tumbled down over her shoulders like a curtain, forever protecting her from the bad and shielding her from the good.

"This is real," she sobbed to herself, listening as her already broken voice shattering around the empty house.

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A/N: 1933 words, and 1933 reasons that bittersweet is always more bitter than sweet.

Expect more soon, and don't give up now! I just update the summary, which I would really appreciate if you took a look at and gave me some feedback. The story's not over yet ;)

XOXO,

Rose