queenteek: Time Moves So Slowly (Draco, PG)
Title: Time Moves So Slowly
Author: queenteek
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: Draco 100.3
Prompt #: 11- Slow
Word Count: 1,284
Summary: Ever notice how the clock doesn’t move when you watch it?
Notes: Part 2/?? of "How to Save a Life".
If you missed a part, it can be found here.
It had been four days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-seven minutes.
He paced in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back and head bowed. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. Snape’s replies were always within thirty-six hours, forty-eight if he was busy, or seventy-two if he was indisposed or unconcious. The man was never overly busy this time of the summer, prefering to work on his personal research, or merely enjoying the peace the school offered without any students, so the lack of reply was more than a little unsettling. A pause to take a quick glance at the grandfather clock, and he resumed his pacing. Another minute and it would be a whole five days.
“Pansy will have told someone by now.” he thought, raking a hand through his hair and falling gracefully into one of the nearby chairs. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
With a shaky sigh, he thought on what he could possibly do to straighten this mess out. They hadn’t anticipated on anyone from his old life finding him and didn’t have an contingency plan laid out for such an occurance. There were numerous safe houses he could flee to, but this was his home now and he wasn’t about to pick up and leave just because one little classmate had happened upon him. He had stopped running from what he had been forced to become years agi, and was content in his life. A life that did not -and would not- have him surrounded by Ministry officials, Aurors, the press, and least of all the Order of the Phoenix.
“Bugger.”
He let himself fall slack in the chair, knees hooked over one arm, head hanging back over the other, staring blankly at the ceiling. If the Order got wind of this from anyone other than Snape, he’d have more than just a few people breathing down his neck. They would probably even call in Potter, who, when last he’d inquired, had politely told them to stop calling with every renegade Death Eater they’d come across. He had laughed at that, and thought it was about time Potter grew a backbone and told them all off.
A loud bang made him bolt upright, and he stumbled over his own feet as he ran down the hall to his office. His owl was back, and had apparently flown right into the glass door, if its presence on the ground (and ruffled feathers) was any indication. As he relieved the bird of its package, he realized that it looked a bit more haggard than it should have.
“I take it you’ll be resting now?” he asked the bird, watching as it flew to its perch.
A blink was all he got before it flew up to a higher perch and proceeded to preen itself. He chuckled and reached for a letter opener as he sat down, eager to see what his old professor had to say. As soon as the letter was unfolded, a familiar voice started to speak, and it wasn’t Snape.
“I do apologize for your owls’ current condition (he really is a beautiful bird), however his presence in my hospital is not conducive to the recovery of a rather foul-tempered patient of mine. (I saw that.) I had hoped he would understand that he would not be receiving a reply from your missives’ intended, but after the second day, I saw that was very unlikely. There are no lingering effects from the Stupefy he was placed under, and should be right as rain in a few days.
As the head Mediwitch here at Hogwarts, I am supposed to keep all of my patients’ records confidential, however our resident Potions Master is in his right mind (there were a few times, young man, that I remember you being so completely rat-arsed that you most certainly were not!) to instruct me to tell you what he feels you need to know.
He has suffered a minor heart attack, but with proper care, and plenty of R-E-S-T (you are not leaving that bed, Severus Snape, now sit back down!) he’ll be just fine. Any business you may have with him will have to wait until after he is released, which is, contrary to what he thinks, not today. Provided that he cooperates, he should be back to his dungeons within the next few days, but no sooner.
What I’m afraid you were not told when the Fidelius was cast was that the secret, and all things assosiated with it, are not kept within the power of the charm if the Secret Keeper should die. For the few seconds Severus’ heart had stopped, it allowed his notes and such to be seen. Unfortunately, Ms. Parkinson is very bright, and while collecting some of Severus’ personal effects, came across a non-descript black book. We are quite sure that is how she managed to find you. She is currently in quarantine, as she has come down with a rather bad case of Dragon Pox (Stop looking so smug.).
That being said, I suppose we shall have to set up a day to have the Fidelius replaced. I will have Severus contact you with the details once he is released. Until then, please try to relax. I would hate to have to attend your funeral a second time.”
He had not expected Snape to be in the Hospital Wing. While the mediwitch anticipated a full recovery in a few days, he wasn’t so sure it would be soon enough. Surely there were things that they had missed when covering their tracks, and someone would see or find one of those mistakes before he was released. He was almost positive that Snape would be unable to apparate or travel by any conventional wizarding means so soon, the mediwitch would see to that herself, which meant that he’d be required to go to Hogwarts if he wanted the Fidelius recast in a timely fashion. He drummed his fingers against the metal file holder he had on the desk while he looked at the small package that sat in front of him. There had been no mention of it in the letter. He flipped the paper over and found nothing on the back, but looking at it closely, it didn’t feel right.
“Specialis revelio.” he said, waving a hand over the page.
“While I do not wish to cause Severus any undo stress, I understand that it is imperitive that your non-death remain a secret. I have sent along a small box containing all you will need to get into Hogwarts on the 13th. I dare say it’s not quite as exciting as the work you did during the war, but it will be more than enough for what you need to accomplish. Minerva is the only one who will pose a problem, but she will be in Hogsmeade from noon til about three. The gate has been reenforced with heavier antiaparition wards, and Hagrid has some new pet of his patroling the grounds, so I would recommend coming in from the tunnel in Honeydukes.”
Well, that answered the question about the box. Tearing off the brown paper, and lifting the cover, he had to smirk. Shrunken clothes, shoes, even a frilly hat, and a bottle of polyjuice potion that would easily last him twenty-four hours. He wondered just how much of this was Madam Pomfreys’ idea and how much was Snapes’. He glanced over at the clock and sighed. It was only five after one, which meant he had a little over twenty-four hours.
“Why is it that time moves so slowly, when all I want is for it to be Friday already?”
Continued in Part 3.
NOTES [edited]: This series is currently untitled, but hopefully, as I get further into it, I'll come up with one. . Series title is "How to Save a Life", or just H2SL for short. I've created an entry that will link to all parts, which can be found here. Series takes place currently, so it's 2007, and we started in July. Draco had his visit from Pansy at almost 1 pm on friday, July 6th, and it is currently (fic wise, of course) wednesday, July 11th.
Author: queenteek
Rating: PG
Prompt Set: Draco 100.3
Prompt #: 11- Slow
Word Count: 1,284
Summary: Ever notice how the clock doesn’t move when you watch it?
Notes: Part 2/?? of "How to Save a Life".
If you missed a part, it can be found here.
It had been four days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-seven minutes.
He paced in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back and head bowed. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. Snape’s replies were always within thirty-six hours, forty-eight if he was busy, or seventy-two if he was indisposed or unconcious. The man was never overly busy this time of the summer, prefering to work on his personal research, or merely enjoying the peace the school offered without any students, so the lack of reply was more than a little unsettling. A pause to take a quick glance at the grandfather clock, and he resumed his pacing. Another minute and it would be a whole five days.
“Pansy will have told someone by now.” he thought, raking a hand through his hair and falling gracefully into one of the nearby chairs. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
With a shaky sigh, he thought on what he could possibly do to straighten this mess out. They hadn’t anticipated on anyone from his old life finding him and didn’t have an contingency plan laid out for such an occurance. There were numerous safe houses he could flee to, but this was his home now and he wasn’t about to pick up and leave just because one little classmate had happened upon him. He had stopped running from what he had been forced to become years agi, and was content in his life. A life that did not -and would not- have him surrounded by Ministry officials, Aurors, the press, and least of all the Order of the Phoenix.
“Bugger.”
He let himself fall slack in the chair, knees hooked over one arm, head hanging back over the other, staring blankly at the ceiling. If the Order got wind of this from anyone other than Snape, he’d have more than just a few people breathing down his neck. They would probably even call in Potter, who, when last he’d inquired, had politely told them to stop calling with every renegade Death Eater they’d come across. He had laughed at that, and thought it was about time Potter grew a backbone and told them all off.
A loud bang made him bolt upright, and he stumbled over his own feet as he ran down the hall to his office. His owl was back, and had apparently flown right into the glass door, if its presence on the ground (and ruffled feathers) was any indication. As he relieved the bird of its package, he realized that it looked a bit more haggard than it should have.
“I take it you’ll be resting now?” he asked the bird, watching as it flew to its perch.
A blink was all he got before it flew up to a higher perch and proceeded to preen itself. He chuckled and reached for a letter opener as he sat down, eager to see what his old professor had to say. As soon as the letter was unfolded, a familiar voice started to speak, and it wasn’t Snape.
“I do apologize for your owls’ current condition (he really is a beautiful bird), however his presence in my hospital is not conducive to the recovery of a rather foul-tempered patient of mine. (I saw that.) I had hoped he would understand that he would not be receiving a reply from your missives’ intended, but after the second day, I saw that was very unlikely. There are no lingering effects from the Stupefy he was placed under, and should be right as rain in a few days.
As the head Mediwitch here at Hogwarts, I am supposed to keep all of my patients’ records confidential, however our resident Potions Master is in his right mind (there were a few times, young man, that I remember you being so completely rat-arsed that you most certainly were not!) to instruct me to tell you what he feels you need to know.
He has suffered a minor heart attack, but with proper care, and plenty of R-E-S-T (you are not leaving that bed, Severus Snape, now sit back down!) he’ll be just fine. Any business you may have with him will have to wait until after he is released, which is, contrary to what he thinks, not today. Provided that he cooperates, he should be back to his dungeons within the next few days, but no sooner.
What I’m afraid you were not told when the Fidelius was cast was that the secret, and all things assosiated with it, are not kept within the power of the charm if the Secret Keeper should die. For the few seconds Severus’ heart had stopped, it allowed his notes and such to be seen. Unfortunately, Ms. Parkinson is very bright, and while collecting some of Severus’ personal effects, came across a non-descript black book. We are quite sure that is how she managed to find you. She is currently in quarantine, as she has come down with a rather bad case of Dragon Pox (Stop looking so smug.).
That being said, I suppose we shall have to set up a day to have the Fidelius replaced. I will have Severus contact you with the details once he is released. Until then, please try to relax. I would hate to have to attend your funeral a second time.”
He had not expected Snape to be in the Hospital Wing. While the mediwitch anticipated a full recovery in a few days, he wasn’t so sure it would be soon enough. Surely there were things that they had missed when covering their tracks, and someone would see or find one of those mistakes before he was released. He was almost positive that Snape would be unable to apparate or travel by any conventional wizarding means so soon, the mediwitch would see to that herself, which meant that he’d be required to go to Hogwarts if he wanted the Fidelius recast in a timely fashion. He drummed his fingers against the metal file holder he had on the desk while he looked at the small package that sat in front of him. There had been no mention of it in the letter. He flipped the paper over and found nothing on the back, but looking at it closely, it didn’t feel right.
“Specialis revelio.” he said, waving a hand over the page.
“While I do not wish to cause Severus any undo stress, I understand that it is imperitive that your non-death remain a secret. I have sent along a small box containing all you will need to get into Hogwarts on the 13th. I dare say it’s not quite as exciting as the work you did during the war, but it will be more than enough for what you need to accomplish. Minerva is the only one who will pose a problem, but she will be in Hogsmeade from noon til about three. The gate has been reenforced with heavier antiaparition wards, and Hagrid has some new pet of his patroling the grounds, so I would recommend coming in from the tunnel in Honeydukes.”
Well, that answered the question about the box. Tearing off the brown paper, and lifting the cover, he had to smirk. Shrunken clothes, shoes, even a frilly hat, and a bottle of polyjuice potion that would easily last him twenty-four hours. He wondered just how much of this was Madam Pomfreys’ idea and how much was Snapes’. He glanced over at the clock and sighed. It was only five after one, which meant he had a little over twenty-four hours.
“Why is it that time moves so slowly, when all I want is for it to be Friday already?”
Continued in Part 3.
NOTES [edited]: This series is currently untitled, but hopefully, as I get further into it, I'll come up with one. . Series title is "How to Save a Life", or just H2SL for short. I've created an entry that will link to all parts, which can be found here. Series takes place currently, so it's 2007, and we started in July. Draco had his visit from Pansy at almost 1 pm on friday, July 6th, and it is currently (fic wise, of course) wednesday, July 11th.