“Get me out of this
Air-Conditioned nightmare.
Rots your brain
Just like a catchy tune.
You will hate life
More than life hates you.
~Mr. Bungle, The Air-Conditioned Nightmare

     As always, Snape had a difficult time sleeping. He tossed and turned on his firm mattress thinking of what was beyond the door. That glow. Could it have been his darling lover or his daughter? Did they know each other? Did they really die all those years ago? He supposed his daughter would be roughly around the same age as Lola. He didn’t remember Lola from his baby’s kindergarten class, but he was not able to get so close to her at that time, what with his busy schedule. Only on the weekends did he have all the time in the world for her. Perhaps they’d been in the same class before Lola lost her memory and ended up in the orphanage.
     He remembered that the Malfoys had come to visit often. Snape’s wife Daisy and Lucius had been the best of friends since they were children. Little Draco and Elora loved to play together in the front yard while the three adults took tea in the kitchen.
     He fell asleep thinking of those days. How he missed those days...
     In the Dream World, Severus saw his old house. And in the back yard were two transparent black figures playing in the sandbox. They were like blobs trying to be human. Ghosts, perhaps. With good reason, he suspected that they were trying to be Draco and Elora. Now... did he dare go inside?
     He didn’t even have to turn the knob. It had turned itself and opened the door. This was one of Daisy’s little tricks. She had charmed the door to open for those who were welcome. Good to know it still works, he thought. He was now in the mud room. He wondered if he should take off his shoes, like one always does when entering a home.
     As he kicked off his second shoe, he caught the scent of Daisy’s specially made tea. Her tea was made famous around the neighborhood. In the kitchen, as expected, were the dark figures mimicking Daisy and Lucius. What Severus did not expect, however, was a third figure. When two of them enclosed on each other, it was obvious that they were reenacting a gesture of affection, and Severus knew the third figure was himself.
     He was being drawn up the stairs now. He wanted to stay and smell the tea and remember, and possibly catch a glimpse of the real Daisy through the blackened figure. But the second floor called to him.
     As he climbed the stairs, his memories of this place grew stronger and stronger. He even remembered to jump the eleventh step because it would creak so loudly.
     When he got to the top of the staircase, he slowly walked down the hall, looking into each room. He noticed that the shadow representing Elora was now sleeping soundly in her bed. He wondered if Daisy’s figure would be in the master bedroom. Severus walked faster down to the end of the hall, knowing it would only be a shadow, but half expecting to actually see his lover in her true form.
     There they were, the dark figures of both Daisy and himself sleeping side by side in peaceful bliss. The cold-hearted professor nearly broke down in tears as the memories came flooding back at full force. He came closer to the bed and just watched the figures’ chests rise and fall. He was only still a moment before he smelled smoke. Then he woke up.
     Sweating a waterfall, Snape took a drink of water from a cup he kept conveniently on his night stand. The images were still fresh in his mind. He tried as hard as he could to fall back asleep. He thought maybe he could change the past and warn them all before he lost everything all over again. But the thought of him experiencing all that again, losing them all over again kept him awake.

~~~
     “Potter!” Snape barked. Harry’s head jerked up from the desk that had temporarily made a suitable slumber nest. “I know I’m asking a lot, but do you think you could possibly stay awake for my class?”
     “I’m sorry, Professor Snape,” Harry cowered. “It won’t happen again.” At least, Harry hoped it would not happen again. His nightmares were getting more frequent and often survived the night completely wide-eyed. Potions was probably the worst class to take first thing in the morning on days like this, he thought.
     “It had better not, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor. You can sleep in Professor Umbridge’s class, but not mine, do I make myself plain?”
     “Yes, Sir.”
     After Potions, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in the corridor outside their next class. They talked for the duration of their time between classes.
     “All right, there, Harry?” asked Ron.
     “Just trying to make it through the day until some solution presents itself.” The others looked wearily at him. “I keep dreaming of him, guys,” said Harry. “I can’t sleep anymore.”
     “Well, he hasn’t acted outside your dreams, right, Harry?” asked Hermione. “I mean,” she said. “I highly doubt he’s trying to kill you through sleep deprivation.” Harry inclined his head. “And Ron and I haven’t had any more dreams about fire or fire-demons since last week, right Ron?”
     “Actually, I had one last night, Hermione,” he corrected. Hermione sent Ron a death stare for contradicting her trying to make Harry feel better. Ron felt her look penetrate his skull. So in haste, he summed “but it was about a campfire?” His voice made a high pitched squeal as it often did when he was threatened. Harry knew this. And nothing would make him feel better about it.
     “Why won’t he die?”
~~~
     “I apologize for pulling you out of Professor Umbridge’s class to practice,” said Snape. Lola shrugged. “However, I trust you aren’t missing much.”
     “Indeed,” Lola replied, shyly.
     Snape pulled out his wand, and Lola, hers. “Ready?” he warned. “One, two three, Legilimens.” Lola felt the rush of Severus entering her mind.
     The door was the first thing he wanted to find, but to his dismay, it was not there. But he still heard a faint cry. Deeper, he decided to himself. I want to go deeper this time.
     Looking around, he noticed that Lola’s mind was filled with random blank spots. Lost memories. Forgotten memories. Lost... forgotten, but not inaccessible. One of the blank spots in Severus’s concentration was beginning to take shape. It was in black and white. It was... a river.
     He watched Lola fly backwards as if she had been fiercely thrown from a high place. She landed in the river and struggled to keep afloat. The river carried her further and further away from where she landed, and the undertow grabbed her and pulled her below. Several seconds passed and alongside of keeping her head above the water, she struggled to keep conscious. There was a gap in the memory suddenly. The next flash of image was Lola’s tiny hand grabbing onto what appeared to be a tree branch, yet it also seemed to be picking her up out of the water. She was nearly unconscious. Her face was shrouded in her hair as the branch-like limb carried      her to shore. Then another flash.
     There was the door! It looked like it had been pried open a bit. Severus ran to it as quickly as he could. Suddenly, only a few feet from the door, he felt a slight tingle behind his left ear. Like someone was tickling him with a feather. He turned around to look at what it was, but instead of finding a feather, he saw Lola back in his office.
     “That was weird,” was all Lola could say at the moment. She sat down in the nearest chair and cradled her knees, pulling them tight against her chest. “I don’t remember that memory.”
     “What did you to to me, Miss Banini?” Snape asked.
     “Just a feather,” she replied without any emotion in her voice. She stared blankly at a quill lying on Snape’s desk. Nothing special about it, just a focal point for the feather effect. She began rocking in her seat. All Snape could do was look at her.
~~~

On to Chapter 3