Severus Snape had always been a practical man. Many of his colleagues, acquaintances and even some of the few people he had felt comfortable calling 'friends' throughout his life often spoke of The Other Side. They have passed on to a better life, they would say, or They're in a better place now.
But Severus had never believed in a better place. Sure, it was undeniable that every living creature had what was commonly defined as a 'soul', and yes, there were ghosts, proving that some sort of afterlife was possible; but those were merely echoes of those who had been alive, and as for souls, there was not a shred of evidence to suggest that they were anything more than a piece of an individual, a component, just another part of someone's essence that, when the time came, would fade away like all the others.
The kindest term he had been given by the few people he had had such conversations with was 'cynical'. However, those were certainly not the only circumstances in which he had been called that, and as it happened, every single one of his cynical insights had been proven correct.
So, when Severus began to regain consciousness, aware that he had been killed by Lord Voldemort and was therefore most certainly dead, his astonishment was such that he failed to notice the large, throbbing, blood-soaked wound on his neck.
As soon as he opened his eyes, a blinding light poured through his half-closed eyelids, burning his irises and making his head explode. He realised he was lying on a soft surface and immediately tried to sit up, but a sharp pain forced him to stay still. He groaned and realised that his throat was so parched that he could barely make a sound. If this is the afterlife, it certainly isn't a better place, he thought.
Then he heard a voice.
"Oh, you're awake!" it said softly.
Suddenly, a terrifying realisation broke through his thoughts. He was not dead. He was alive, unable to open his eyes, unable to move, in the middle of a war. He tried to sit up again, but the pain was too much and he collapsed. He tried to open his eyes once more, and this time, forcing himself to endure the invading light that threatened to blind him yet again, he managed to make out a blurred figure not far from him. A person, he thought. A threat.
Forgetting the pain, he made a quick movement to retrieve his wand, only to discover to his horror that it was not under his cloak. The figure approached and he, now gripped by fear, could do nothing but flail and wave his arms in an attempt to fend it off.
"Calm down—hey!" he heard the figure shout.
But he did not calm down. He fought with even more energy until his hands hit something soft, which he recognised as fabric. He grabbed it and tried to hold whoever was in front of him, pulling with all his might.
"You need to calm down, please!" they went on. "You're making things worse!"
He continued to flail his hands, now in the midst of a full-blown panic attack.
"STOP!" they shouted, and the man realised that his wrists were being held in a tight grip.
He tried to free himself, but his strength was exhausted, and the wound on his neck burned as if a red-hot blade had pierced it. Helpless, unable to react, Severus stopped struggling and braced himself for the worst.
But the worst did not come.
"I don't want to hurt you," the voice said calmly, "I just want to turn off the light so you can open your eyes."
His wrists were released. He heard a click and then footsteps moving away, stopping a short distance from him.
"You can open your eyes now."
Only then did Severus recognise the voice as female.
He opened his eyes cautiously. The room was shrouded in darkness, but he could still make out the blurred outlines of a four-poster bed on which he lay, a chair not far away, what appeared to be a large table with indeterminate objects on it, and a woman. Severus tried to sit up again, fighting the pain. This time he managed, though not without a muffled groan.
"Be careful, please," she said.
She spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper, and her tone was soft, gentle. He tried to speak but could only produce a choked hiss.
"There's a glass of water on the bedside table next to you," she said encouragingly. "Don't make any sudden moves," she hastened to add, for he had turned his head in a decisive gesture and let out another hoarse groan.
Cautiously, he reached for the glass on the bedside table. He brought it to his face, but did not drink; instead, he sniffed it suspiciously, wet his lips and touched the liquid inside with his fingers. It seemed to be only water. Unable to do anything else—he had no way of checking the contents without his wand—he decided to drink.
The water slid down his throat, cool and refreshing, and made him feel slightly better. Now he would finally be able to speak.
"Who are you?" he asked brusquely.
"My name is Omegas," she replied simply. She reached over to the table behind her and picked something up. "I'll come closer if you don't mind."
Severus recoiled and tried to form a threatening scowl; utterly useless as they were in total darkness.
She must have sensed it somehow, because she added, "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to return your wand."
She approached with measured steps and placed something on the bed, a few inches from his hand. He reached for the object and immediately recognised it: it was indeed his wand.
"This won't be pleasant, but I think it's necessary to turn on the light again so you can see me. I know you're frightened."
Severus did not like those words at all. He did not like others making assumptions about his state of mind, especially when they were right.
He did not answer, and the woman took his silence as agreement. She slowly approached the bedside table beside him and, with another click, switched on the lamp.
When she turned back to face the bed, she found Severus' wand pointed at her throat. She flinched in surprise, but did not retreat. Instead, she flashed a cunning smile, raised an eyebrow and said, "This isn't very polite."
He watched her, his black eyes finally visible in the dim yellow light of the lamp.
The woman named Omegas had a round face, thick black curls pulled back in a bun, and large eyes of a strange dark blue, almost violet. She was pale and looked like someone who hadn't slept for a long time. She also had a small scar near her left eye and a deep cut on her lower lip.
Severus tilted his head and squinted, studying her carefully.
"Who are you?" he asked again, this time trying to sound as menacing as possible, his wand still pointed at her throat.
"Try not to tilt your head like that, or your wound will get worse."
"WHO ARE YOU?" he repeated with such vehemence that his throat burned again.
She swept her eyes over his face a few times without losing her odd smile.
"I told you. My name is Omegas."
Severus pressed the wand to her throat. "That doesn't answer my question," he growled.
Omegas stared at him in silence for a few more seconds. When she spoke again, there was no trace of the calm she had shown him until that moment.
"I am the person who just saved your life, and I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped pointing your wand at me."
She said it in such a dangerous tone that Severus was taken aback. He considered for a moment; then, carefully and without stopping to give her a venomous look, he lowered the wand.
"Thank you," she said, finding her smile again.
Severus looked around, finally able to look at the room they were in.
It was definitely the Shrieking Shack: the four-poster bed was the same as always, as was the wooden chair with the crooked leg. However, the large table and everything on it were new.
Omegas reached it, picked up a large black velvet bag and slung it over her shoulder.
"What happened?" he asked.
"You died," she replied. She snorted a laugh and added, "Well, just for a while."
That mocking laugh, coupled with the story of his recent departure, irritated him quite a bit. His eyes darted to her, sending sparks of hatred. She did not notice, however, as she had begun to fiddle with the bag, looking for something.
Severus had had enough. With an irritated gesture, he threw off the sheet covering him and moved a leg towards the edge of the bed. She saw him, huffed and reached him in two quick steps.
"Oh, no, no, no. Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, placing her hands on his shoulders to force him back onto the bed.
He shrugged her off violently.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" he shouted.
The reaction seemed to impress her. She quickly released his shoulders and stood staring at him in confusion.
Severus groaned slightly and brought a hand to his wound: the angry gesture had caused it to bleed again.
She noticed and gave him a reproachful look. "I told you it would get worse."
His eyes darted back to her, fierce. This time she noticed, but didn't seem to care.
"I wanted to treat it while you were unconscious, but I wasn't sure if you'd wake up and, you know…" she looked at him and smiled guiltily. "I didn't want to risk wasting precious resources on a dead man. No offence."
He didn't respond, but continued to stare at her grimly.
"I can do it now, if you let me."
Severus' eyelids narrowed into two suspicious slits.
"Oh, come on, it wouldn't make sense to hurt you, would it? I just saved your life." She took a few steps towards him. "Let me help you."
"I don't need your help," he snarled.
"Of course," she said with a chuckle, "you're in excellent shape. Have you just been on vacation?"
The scowl on Severus' face grew darker.
She sighed. "Listen," she said briskly, "you have a wound on the right side of your neck, inflicted by the bite of a large snake. I, on the other hand, have a vial of Phoenix Tears that would make you feel much better."
She moved away from the bed and placed a glass bottle of clear liquid on the table.
"I could give you the vial, but to be honest, you haven't given me any reason to trust you yet. Phoenix Tears are extremely rare and I don't intend to waste a single drop. So…" she grabbed the wooden chair and placed it in the middle of the room, "if you want my help, you can sit here and I can treat you, otherwise do as you please and keep bleeding."
Severus remained silent for a while, thinking. He studied the woman in front of him closely, moving his eyes up and down as if to assess her danger.
Omegas was quite tall, with broad shoulders and a small waist, and wore a flowing dress the same blue-violet colour as her eyes. She wore a worn black cloak over her shoulders and a pair of fingerless gloves on her wrists. There was not a single wrinkle in her face. She must be very young, Severus thought, a girl. All in all, he judged, she did not appear to be a threat.
Reluctantly, his neck still throbbing and burning, he got out of bed, reached the chair, sat down and began unbuttoning the collar of his robes without saying a word.
"Good," she said. She picked up the vial she had placed on the table, rolled up her sleeves and positioned herself beside him. "Tilt your head."
Severus did so, and the skin on his neck tightened, causing another sharp pain.
She took off a glove and gently probed the area around the wound.
"There doesn't seem to be any permanent damage," she said to herself. "You're lucky, you know that? I don't think there'll even be a scar."
She uncorked the bottle, which made a soft pop.
"This may be unpleasant. Try to stay still."
He closed his eyes as she poured a few drops onto his wound.
For a moment it burned as if a hot coal had been placed on it, then slowly the heat diminished and seemed to take the pain away.
Omegas recapped the bottle, looked at him and gave him an encouraging look.
"Done. Good as new."
Severus pulled up the collar of his robes and buttoned it quickly.
"Why do you have Phoenix Tears?" he asked.
She glanced at him and her mouth curved into an odd smile. It was enigmatic, unnecessarily cryptic.
"I collect rare substances. I gather everything I can find."
"And where did you find Phoenix Tears?" he asked again, raising an eyebrow.
Omegas looked at him for a few seconds in silence, her smile still on her face.
"It's a long story. How are you feeling?" she asked, hastily changing the subject.
"Fine," he replied dryly.
"Good."
Severus rose from the chair, straightened his robes and walked determinedly towards the door.
Now that the pain was gone, he could finally leave. He needed to know. He needed to make sure that Potter had completed his task, to make sure that he had seen his…
A lump in his throat prevented him from finishing the thought.
"Where do you think you're going?"
He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to look at the woman who was now sitting in the chair, nonchalantly pulling a crumpled newspaper out of her bag.
"Out. Not that it's any of your business."
She frowned and smiled, as if impressed by the man's audacity.
"You can't do it."
Severus gave her a cold glare and looked her up and down.
"Are you going to stop me?" he asked, half threatening, half mocking.
"Yes," she replied, rising from the chair with a defiant air.
His sallow face twisted with pure rage.
"Listen, girl," he growled, "I don't know who you are or why you did what you did. But if you think you can tell me what I can and cannot do just because you saved my life, assuming you did—"
"Assuming I did?" she retorted, pointing to the dusty floor next to the door. "You were practically dead! Even Harry Potter left you to rot on the floor."
He ignored her and spoke more aggressively.
"I have matters to attend to, probably too complex for you to understand. So I'm going now, and you certainly won't be the one to stop me."
They stared at each other, he grim, she incredulous.
She moved her hand slightly under her cloak and he instinctively reached for his wand. Finally, she looked up at him with a haughty air, gave him another smirk and asked, "Through which door?"
Severus turned.
The door he had almost walked through a few seconds earlier had now become a thick wooden wall.
He pulled out his wand and cast every spell he could think of to make it reappear, but it stubbornly remained a wall.
He turned to Omegas, who seemed amused, the mischievous grin still on her face. He was tempted to slap her.
"Make it reappear immediately," he commanded.
"No," she replied firmly. "Now sit down and listen to me."
She pointed to the foot of the bed, meeting blankly the angry sparks his eyes shot in her direction.
"When you have finished listening to me, I will make the door reappear and then you can choose whether or not to get up and leave."
They stared at each other for a while, motionless.
Severus considered cursing her, blowing up the wall and escaping. But he thought that would probably draw attention, and he didn't know who was on the other side of that wall. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious, he didn't know the current state of the battle outside, and most of all, he didn't know if he would survive an encounter with a Death Eater or a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Probably, he told himself, every single fighter on both sides would try to kill him on sight.
So, without ever stopping to glare at the woman, he reluctantly reached the edge of the bed and sat down.
Omegas, without taking her eyes off his face, reached for the chair, moved it closer so that they were facing each other and sat down.
"My name is Omegas. I am part of this war and I am aware of the current situation. I know that you are a Death Eater, judging by the mark on your arm, or at least you were. It was your master's snake that did this to you, so I imagine you have exhausted your usefulness in his eyes."
She curled her lips into a grimace that mimicked a contrite expression.
"That's unfortunate."
She pointed to the wall to their left, where the door had been a moment before.
"If you go out there now and are seen, both armies will try to kill you, making all my efforts up to this point a waste of time and precious resources. I can't allow that. Do you understand?"
She gave him an intense look and Severus noticed, for the first time since he had seen her, that her eyes were not dark blue, almost violet: they were actually purple.
"Oh, and I'm not a 'girl'," she added irritably.
A sudden surprise cracked the man's grim expression. He frowned and tilted his head slightly.
"You… think I'm a Death Eater?" he asked in a whisper.
She replied with the same look of puzzlement and a raised eyebrow.
"Aren't you?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Oh," she said. "Well, good for you."
There was a pause; then a macabre realisation made Severus clutch his wand tightly under his cloak.
"Why did you help me if you thought I was a Death Eater?" he asked, ready to fight. "Are you a Death Eater?"
Omegas gave him a look of disgust.
"Absolutely not," she declared.
She rolled up her left sleeve, revealing a pale forearm free of Dark Marks.
Severus let go of his wand and looked at her again, curious.
"Then why?"
Omegas glanced away vaguely and gave the faintest shrug. "It's just what I do…"
He shot her a sceptical—and at times dangerous—glare.
She sighed. She got up from the chair and walked quickly to the large wooden table.
"I don't have a satisfactory answer," she replied.
"Give me an unsatisfactory one," he retorted.
She turned sharply, an amused spark in her eyes. She reached into the black bag from which she had taken the Phoenix Tears, opened it, pointed her wand inside and twirled it.
A second bottle emerged, slightly larger than the first, made of dark glass. She uncorked it, sniffed it with some satisfaction, recorked it and threw it into the man's hands.
"What is it?" he asked.
"An antidote."
"To what?"
Omegas gave him another cryptic smile. "If you tell me, I'll let you out."
Anger once again distorted Severus' thin face.
"We're not playing," he growled.
"Oh, come on," she huffed, "I've been here watching over you for hours. It was rather boring, you know?"
She pointed to the bottle in the man's hands and smiled again.
"Tell me what it is and you're free to go."
Severus had the distinct, annoying feeling that she was trying to buy time.
He stood up, reached out to her and looked into her eyes for a moment, threateningly.
She continued to stare at him, impassive, with the same irritating slyness.
Severus looked down at the potion, and an emotion he had forgotten he could feel rose up in him: curiosity.
A mysterious woman saving his life under Voldemort's blind eyes, an unknown potion in his hands, and he, still alive, challenged to identify it. The enigma was so inviting that for a moment he forgot that he was in the middle of a war and had a mission.
Without saying a word, he walked solemnly to the wooden table, placed the bottle on it and began to examine it.
Satisfied, she jumped onto the four-poster bed and went back to reading her newspaper, probably thinking it would take him hours.
Severus, however, took no more than ten minutes. He uncorked the bottle, sniffed the contents and let a few drops slide onto the table's surface. Watching them closely, he wet his fingers and ran one over his lips. Then he took out his wand, pointed it at the mysterious liquid and said, "Revelio".
Apparently he did not like what the potion had revealed to him, for he frowned, pointed the wand at it again and repeated the spell. He did it four times in all, and each time he seemed a little more puzzled than the last.
Finally, he put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on the back of his hands, his back forced into an unnatural curve and his eyes reduced to slits.
"It's impossible," he breathed.
She smiled, not taking her eyes off the newspaper.
"You can't figure it out, can you?"
Severus, his attention now entirely on the object in front of him, ignored her.
"Did you use this to…" he trailed off, but gestured vaguely towards his neck.
"To save you? Yes."
"It's impossible," he repeated, not taking his eyes off the potion.
"Are you giving up?" she asked.
The question woke him; he straightened and looked her in the eyes with a stern expression.
"This is an Antidote to Common Poisons," he announced, pointing to the bottle, "Bezoar, Mistletoe Berries, Unicorn Horn, to which a good dose of poison has been added. From the snake, I assume."
He leaned over the table again, studying the potion in fascination.
"In general, this is how you turn a common antidote into a specific one. However, the poison has to be modified so that it does not affect the person you are trying to cure. It takes weeks to derive a working antidote for an unknown poison."
He picked up the bottle and held it between his face and the lamp to study it against the light.
"It is practically impossible to make a potion recognise a single ingredient as the substance to be identified and acted against, while treating all other components as mere parts of the mixture, even with a spell."
He took out his wand and waved it at the bottle again. An eerie black halo rose around the dark glass, which emitted a faint, disconcerting hiss.
"This is a… this is an Imperius Curse," he said in an incredulous whisper. "An Imperius Curse cast upon…" He swallowed.
He opened his lips again, but no sound came out; finally, in a last, barely audible murmur, he repeated, "It's impossible."
Omegas, who had already put the newspaper on the bed and was giving his full attention to the man's words, looked at him wide-eyed, almost as astonished as he was.
"Bravo!" she exclaimed. "You have… you know, you are the first to ever—"
"Did you cast an Imperius Curse on a soulless object?" he cut her off.
Omegas smiled, intrigued by the sudden glimpse of respect in the man's eyes.
"I did," she nodded.
"How?" he murmured.
"An experiment. It's not exactly an Imperius Curse, I had to find a formula that could enchant something without consciousness, but…"
She rose from the bed and reached for the table, stopping in front of him.
"Well, I tried. I never got a chance to test it though."
She looked at him with a vague note of guilt.
"I had to. You were too perfect an opportunity to miss. I mean… you would have died anyway…"
Severus, who had never taken his incredulous eyes off the object in front of him, suddenly looked back at Omegas, his brow furrowed and his expression severe.
"You used me as a guinea pig?"
She did not answer, just shrugged and gave him a wicked look.
"How did you figure it out?" she asked after a moment.
"I used to teach Potions."
"Oh, really? At Hogwarts?"
It was then that Severus realised he had revealed a vital piece of information about himself to a stranger, in a dilapidated shack with no door, in the middle of a war. He cursed himself silently.
"Wait…" she added, "are you…"
She fixed her big purple eyes on him.
"Snape? Severus Snape?"
He held her gaze and nodded slowly.
She immediately lowered her eyes, and he had the distinct impression that she was blushing.
"Do we know each other?" he asked, a note of curiosity cracking his rigid tone.
"No," she replied, a little too quickly to be believable.
Omegas pulled out the wand and waved it at the wall to her left. The door reappeared.
"You have won. You're free to go."
Severus watched her as she kept her eyes stubbornly fixed elsewhere.
"What are you going to do?"
"Why?" she asked.
"You said you were part of this war," he replied. "Why aren't you out there? Why have I never seen you?"
She shook her head vigorously. "I don't let myself be seen."
"By whom?"
"By no one," she stated.
"I see you," he noted.
She turned to him and gave him one last mysterious smile.
"Yes. But it doesn't matter. You'll forget me," she declared, gesturing towards the door. "Go now. I won't hold you any longer. Try not to get yourself killed again."
Severus watched her for a few moments. Then, cautiously, he reached for the wooden door, placed his hand on the handle and gave her one last, furtive glance before opening it and being swallowed by the night beyond.