Seventeen Words
a Harry Potter story
by Superimmunegirl
October 17
Severus Snape gazed at the water flowing under the bridge, as he did every morning. He had been absorbed in its ripples and currents for a long time, but he wasn't done yet. He always knew when he was done, there was no question: he could feel the river release him. The swirls and eddies merged just so, and just like that, he could move again.
He was not quite sure how long he'd been at the sanitarium. A month or two-surely not three? Perhaps it was three; it was easy to lose track of time. He stared and stared at the current, trying to make sense of it, and just as it seemed he was about to understand, he was released. He walked off the bridge. He longed to touch the river, but the warding spells would not permit it, lest he try to drown himself. Well, he'd lost most of his drive for suicide anyway.
It was actually a very pleasant place, he thought, as he walked back inside. Much better than St. Mungo's, where they had first sent him. Here, at the Clabbert Hill Sanitarium for Non-Magical Madness, he had the freedom to walk the grounds, although he knew he was closely watched and warded. He usually took a walk around the gardens at this point, but it was not a requirement, like gazing at the river was. That he must do every morning, rain or shine, or he became quite agitated. They were very understanding, and cast charms to keep him warm and dry when the weather was foul. But the walk was optional, and he was tired and didn't feel quite right, so he decided to return to the common room and stare at the fire instead.
"You're back early, Professor," commented Linden, one of the apprentice healers. A student of his only a few years ago, the young man still called him Professor. "No walk today?" Severus sank into a chair and did not answer. There was no point wasting words. He was saving all his words for this afternoon, when Remus would be visiting. He only had seventeen words a day. He had not known this until recently. For several days after the breakdown he did not talk at all, but merely lay silent and unresponsive in bed. And then when he felt like talking a bit, he realized he only had seventeen words. This might sound like a distressing thing to realize, but it was not. Once he knew it, he could keep within the limit, preventing anything bad from happening. The problem before was that he had not known he only had seventeen words, and so he always went over the limit, and that's probably why his whole life was one bad thing happening after another. He was very relieved to have figured it out, and thought maybe it was no longer necessary to end his life. Maybe. He didn't tell anyone else about it. He was fairly certain they would not understand.
"Hello! Do you know where I am?" asked a demanding voice. "They've put me somewhere.Do you know where I am?" Severus groaned inwardly and turned his face away from an unbearable ex-auror who'd cracked in the war.
"Jaryton, how do you keep getting in here?" asked Linden. "Come on, I'll show you back. This isn't your ward." Thank Merlin for that, Severus thought. There was no one so annoying in his own ward. Most patients here were quiet and lived in their own worlds. The Longbottoms occasionally became agitated, but not so much that they bothered him. Neville Longbottom, deciding it was a better place than St. Mungo's, had recently transferred them. He came to visit them regularly, and he always looked in on Severus too. The boy was remarkably kind, considering how Severus had treated him. Helping to bring down Voldemort had bought Severus a lot of forgiveness. But it had cost him too.
When Severus had been forced to make the unbreakable vow, he assumed that he would eventually have to break it and suffer the consequences. But Albus did not think that was the best course.and when the crisis came, with Albus weak and begging before him, it was only too clear what Severus had to do. But that did not make it easy. And as Severus uttered the fatal curse, he made a private vow in exchange: when Voldemort and the Death Eaters were finally defeated, Severus would use that curse on himself and die as he was meant to do, avenging Albus' death and ending his own miserable existence. In the dark days that followed at Voldemort's side, he did not dwell on his plan. It took all the strength and skill he had to work against Voldemort while escaping detection, and he had little time to think of anything else.
And then, with his help, Voldemort was finally defeated. Snape's role in bringing the Dark Lord down was revealed. He was, technically, a hero. But, even as he continued to work against Voldemort's remaining supporters, he didn't feel like a hero, nor was he treated like one. He was a miserable, friendless man who had killed the only person who had ever believed in him. And his vow, that he had not dwelt upon before, became his only solace. He imagined it over and over again, unleashing his self-hatred in one final, unforgivable curse. He indulged himself by picturing the shock on everyone's faces when they found out. At times he imagined that everyone cried for him, but most of the time he told himself that no one would.
Once the last Death Eaters were tracked down and loose ends tied up, Severus was finally free to act. He got his affairs in order, and began to work on his suicide note. But as the fatal day grew closer, a new version of his suicide fantasy began, disturbingly, to intrude. In this one, someone would walk in just as he was about to say the curse, realize what he was doing, and stop him. This was weakness, and he tried to banish from his heart the shameful longing that someone would see inside his heart, as Albus had done, that someone would help him. And then someone did.
It was Dobby the house elf that found the note he was composing, carelessly left on the desk. Dobby took it to Harry-beating himself severely along the way for such a violation of privacy. And Harry had of course taken the note immediately to Minerva and Remus. They found him on his way back to his rooms, confronted and disarmed him. He remembered their faces so pale, their eyes just bleeding fear and concern. He tried to deny that he had written it, but they didn't believe him. Realizing he'd betrayed himself, realizing that he would not be permitted to carry out his vow, realizing that if he did not kill himself he would be letting Albus' murder go unavenged-he felt his mind begin to tear itself apart. He tried to run but they held him back, and he'd proceeded to have a very messy, very public breakdown. And he'd been in hospital ever since.
"It's lunch time, Professor," said Linden. "How about coming to the dining hall?" Severus shook his head. He was tired. He didn't want to move, he wanted to look at the fire. The lad tried his best to coax him, but eventually gave up and brought his lunch to him in the common room. Severus ate a bit to please him, but really wasn't hungry at all. He cleared his throat and coughed tiredly. He didn't feel well, he decided. As he sat and stared and the minutes flowed by, he realized that he could feel himself slowly getting sick. Like the fire, this was something to observe, so he didn't mind so much. Right now he observed a vague feeling of discomfort growing in his throat. He noticed how his physical energy was lessening, as if it were being slowly drained.
Severus leaned his head against the side of the large, comfortable armchair. He gazed at the clock on the mantle, watching the hands slowly turn and the lunatics shuffle around him. Was he really one of them? He had gone mad when they confronted him at Hogwarts, screaming in the hallway as they held him down-that he could see. But was he mad now? He didn't know. His mind certainly felt like a different place. He felt as if every mental structure, every part of his personality had crumbled. In this state he felt compelled to observe things, like the wind in the trees or a ladybeetle crawling across a windowsill. He sometimes stared at dust motes glinting in the sun for hours. He usually cried in the afternoons, but the tears didn't hurt so much when you didn't try to stop them, and here, there was no reason to. So he let them come, rocking back and forth as he wept, and one of the healers would comfort him. He would never have permitted that before, but now it felt good to have someone stroke his hair and tell him it was going to be all right. He didn't think it was mad to cry, after all that had happened.
The seventeen words, if he thought about it, probably seemed a little mad, but they weren't. He could feel the truth deep in his bones, and he counted his words religiously every day. He didn't always use them all-as it turned out, there was very little he really needed to say-so he had to use up whatever was leftover before he went to bed. One day he had nine words to use, and a thought had been growing in his mind that he needed to say Avada Kedavra. So that night, quietly under the covers he said it:
"Avada Kedavra.
Avada Kedavra,
Avada Kedavra,
Avada Kedavra,
Avada-"And then he realized to his horror that he needed to finish saying Avada Kedavra, but he couldn't because his words were used up! He had to stay up the whole night, pacing and pulling at his hair, biting his arm, trying desperately to keep from screaming because if he did they might put a sleep charm on him. He watched the east from his window, watched it slowly grow lighter, until he could see a bit of sun. He had to wait until all of it was over the horizon, and then he screamed "Kedavra!" and collapsed, shaking, to the ground. The healers came running. They calmed him, and healed his bitten, bleeding arm. They were worried, but it was all right. The words were out of him now.
The fire in the common room grew lower, and a house elf came to add more wood. The fire crackled, and smoke curled. Several hours had passed, and by now his body ached with illness. His chest felt tight and he coughed. His nose was running and he could feel pressure building in his sinuses. He shivered, and wiped his nose with a handkerchief. The flames licked and danced, drawing him in again. But then a tickle formed in Severus' nose and interrupted his trance.
"Ahhhtchhhh!" he sneezed, then coughed at the resulting prickle in his chest and throat.
"Bless you," called Linden, who was studying at the healer's station. Linden was a very kind young man-from Hufflepuff, as many healers were. Severus remembered making the lad cry in class when he was a first year, and taunts of "crybaby" followed him thereafter. Yet he cared for Severus as tenderly as any of his charges. Severus blew his nose. He sniffled and then coughed again, and heard Linden's chair creak as he got up.
"Are you feeling all right, Professor?" he asked, approaching him. Severus shook his head slightly. "Well, let's have a look." The young man laid a palm on Severus' forehead. His hand felt cool at first, but then filled with the warmth of the healer's diagnostic spell.
"Hmmm.definitely not feeling all right, are you." he said, moving his hands gently to Severus' throat and chest. "Looks like flu. No wonder you didn't have any appetite. I'll get the head healer to come and give you some Pepperup-they won't even let me prescribe that until I pass my exams." He departed briefly and returned with Madame Wellspring, a silver haired witch.
"Hello, Severus. I heard you weren't feeling well," she said. She touched his head, throat and chest briefly, and nodded. "Yes, he's got flu. It's starting to make the rounds. Give him a dose of Pepperup now and another after supper, and keep him in bed for the rest of the day. It's a stubborn bug, so he might need another dose in the morning."
"Thank you, Madame. Come on, Professor, let's get you into bed. It's all right," he soothed, as Severus looked at the fire he didn't want to leave. "You can look at the wind in the leaves outside your window." That was true. He rose creakily, allowing himself to be guided to bed. He slipped off his shoes and got under the covers as Linden fetched the potion. Severus swallowed it and his face grew hot as steam issued from his ears.
"There, that should make you feel better," he said, pulling the covers up around him a bit. "I can have the house elves bring up some tea and honey, would you like that?" Severus nodded. "And how about an extra blanket?" Severus agreed to that too. It was nice to be cared for. He was glad they did, because it was somehow hard to do it himself, these days.
Severus sneezed again, a forceful sneeze that hurt his chest: "ACHUUUMMPH! Ahhh. TCHOO!" He kept sneezing. Pepperup stimulated the body's own immune response, which sometimes meant that symptoms intensified before they got better. It was certainly true in this case. "Atchishh! AtishOOOO! Huh.HUTCHOOO!" He blew his nose wearily. House elves came by with tea and he stopped sneezing enough to sip it while they tucked an extra blanket around him. He wanted to thank them, but again, decided to conserve his words for Remus.
On the whole, Severus liked visitors. The healers said they were good for him, that they drew him out, and he supposed that they were right. But some were better than others. Some, like Filius Flitwick, had the annoying habit of talking to him very loudly. "You're shouting," Severus had told him. "I'm not deaf." Five words well spent, he thought, when the man blushed and apologized, speaking more softly. But over time the volume increased again. Minerva was a faithful visitor, although she was clearly upset by the whole situation. Pomona Sprout treated him like a child or an idiot, which he hated. And Harry Potter-it was almost comical how badly that had gone. Severus' hate for the boy had faded along with all of his hatreds after the breakdown. But he still didn't know what to say to the lad. And Harry himself had no idea what to say to the man who had tormented him in class, murdered his mentor in front of his eyes, and then saved his life and enabled him to defeat Voldemort, sacrificing his sanity in the process. They had sat there in very uncomfortable silence until Severus finally leaned over and said, "Harry, I appreciate the sentiment, but perhaps you should try writing to me instead." The boy had looked very surprised, then relieved. He'd written once, and Severus was working on a reply. It took a while, because written words counted.
Severus looked forward to Remus' visits. How things had changed between them! A member of the gang that bullied him in school, Severus had nursed his hatred for Remus well into adulthood. But then Remus had the decency to apologize to him. And to keep being nice to him, keep making little gestures of friendship. Severus had to give up on hating him, but he could not respond in kind because of.well, because of many things. But he found himself wanting to. And then on the night when he fell apart, it was Remus who held him tightly, keeping him from injuring himself, Remus who murmured, "It's going to be all right, we've got you now, we've got you, it's all right. We're going to help you, I promise." And ever since, Remus had been his most frequent visitor. Somehow he had become something like a friend.
There was a quiet tap on his door.
"Come in," he called. (Two words.) Remus entered the room.
"Hello Severus. Sorry to hear you've got flu.are you up for a visit, or would you rather rest?" Severus motioned for Remus to come inside. "Guess we'll have to stay in today, eh? Well, it's going around. Several of my students this morning had steam coming out of their ears." Remus sat down in the chair next to the bed and put down his satchel. "I've brought a few things for you. This, ah.this is from Molly Weasley." He pulled a black, chunky tangle of yarn out and handed it to Severus. One of her horrid sweaters. Severus couldn't help smiling.
"At least it's black," he said. (Six words.)
"Well, mostly. There's a monogram on the front."
Severus turned it to find there was indeed a large orange and purple monogram splashed across a breast pocket. This time, he actually gave a slight chuckle.
"It's the thought that counts," continued Remus, pulling out a rather worn book. "Which I hope you'll keep in mind with this. I know you haven't felt much like reading -" It was true-things like dust motes and rivers were more captivating to him, and he couldn't seem to concentrate on the page. "But it was my favorite book as a child, and I still read it sometimes after a rough full moon.I thought, well, I thought you might like it."
He handed it to Severus. It was The Hedgehogs of Mossy Lane, a classic children's book about a family of hedgehog wizards who had adventures inside a great old hedgerow filled with wonderful creatures. He opened the book, and there was the moonlit hedgerow, just as he remembered it.
"Thank you," he said, sincerely. (Eight.)
"I'm glad you like it." He sounded relieved that he hadn't offended him. Severus clearly needed to be treated gently, but there was a fine line between gentle and patronizing. Anyone who crossed that line received a withering look that was a reminder of the old Severus Snape. "I've got a bit of news for you too. Lucilia Almabalm's agreed to come and treat you. Minerva arranged it--she'll be here Tuesday."
This was news. Almabalm was a Soul Healer. Soul Healing was a very rare talent, and it usually took years to arrange an appointment, if it could be done at all.
"She thinks you'll respond well to treatment. You're improving on your own, and now with her helping you, we may even have you out of here for Christmas." There was a long pause, in which Severus looked rather troubled, as if unsure that that was what he wanted.
"You think that I've improved?" he finally asked. (Thirteen words.)
"I do. You're sharper, more.engaged. I'm not sure you're talking any more than you have been, but you seem like you want to talk more, if that makes any sense." It did. He felt the limitations of the seventeen words more keenly as the days went by. But there was nothing he could do about that. "Severus, are you.do you think that if you leave, you'll still feel obliged to carry out your vow?"
Did he? He didn't know-he searched for words but only had four left. All he could do was look conflicted.
"Well, I'd hoped for a resounding `no'," Remus sighed. "I know you've heard this before, but.you did what you had to do, what Albus needed you to do. He almost certainly would have died anyway. Promising to kill yourself in exchange for killing him was a bad bargain, and it's the last thing Albus would have wanted. Now that it's all over, you've got to let it go. You've got to forgive yourself."
Ah, but he couldn't. Nothing could absolve him of the crime that he was able to do what he did. No one else could have. He wanted to tell Remus how he felt, but again, four words were not enough. So they sat in silence. Remus started to speak, and then stopped, staring at his hands. Then he started again.
"Did you know." he said, hesitantly, "Did I ever tell you.that I once spent a week here myself?"
Severus was surprised.
"No," he replied, in a tone that clearly said `You know perfectly well that you never told me and why on earth didn't you?' Remus laughed nervously.
"I ah-well, I never really told anyone about it.except Sirius, when he came back. Haven't even told Tonks.and I didn't want to burden you with my problems."
Severus shook his head, dismissing the man's concerns. "Tell me."
"Well, it was after James and Lily died-everyone was celebrating because Voldemort was defeated, but I'd lost all of my friends at one blow-James, Lily, Peter and Sirius. And I couldn't find a job because of my condition, and I felt so desperate.I started thinking about suicide. Soon I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I was scaring myself. So I checked in here. They took me on charity. I felt better almost immediately, with the potions they gave me, but it was a week before I felt strong enough to leave."
Severus had had no idea. He wanted to tell him he understood, and to say something that a friend would say, like that he was very glad Remus had not killed himself. But then there was the word limit.
Or was there? Suddenly, shockingly, it seemed as if there wasn't-he could talk as much he wanted to. It was like when he was drifting to sleep and had the sense of falling, only to jerk in bed and discover that he wasn't falling at all. But then, with the same sense of vertigo, it shifted back. Of course there were only seventeen words. How could he have possibly thought otherwise? He put a hand to his head, feeling dizzy.
"Are you all right?" Remus asked. Severus nodded. "Are you sure? You look pale." Severus nodded again. "I shouldn't have said anything," Remus fretted, but Severus shook his head emphatically, no. He couldn't have him thinking that. He looked at Remus, willing him to understand.
"You're.glad I told you?" Remus asked. Severus nodded, relieved. "All right then. You just looked ill for a moment."
"Flu," he explained. Seventeen words. Remus placed his hand on Severus' forehead- an intimacy the old Severus would not have permitted-and frowned.
"You do have a fever, even after the Pepperup. Perhaps I'd better let you get some rest." Severus shook his head no-he couldn't just let the man leave after what he had told him. But he had no words left.
"You look like you want to say something," said Remus.
Severus nodded.
"But you can't.can't talk just now?" In all Remus' visits, Severus seemed to reach a point where he couldn't speak anymore. Severus nodded in response, looking frustrated. He looked about, as if searching for a way to express himself. Then he looked back at Remus and, somewhat awkwardly, embraced him. Surprised at first, Remus then smiled and hugged him back.
"Is this what you wanted to say?" Remus asked. Severus, still holding his friend, nodded. "Because of what I told you?" He nodded again. "Well, thank you. That means a lot to me."
Severus felt gratified, but then had to pull away rather abruptly due to a sudden tickle in his nose. He reached for his handkerchief and sneezed: "Atchhhhhooo! Atchhisshh! Ah-TCHOOO!"
"Bless you," Remus chuckled. Severus blew his nose. "Look, I know this has been a short visit, but I really do think you ought to try to get some sleep. You of all people should know that Pepperup potion doesn't work unless you rest."
Severus didn't want to. He wanted to hear more of Remus' story, and he wanted to hear all the little bits of news about Hogwarts and the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. But he knew Remus was right: he was starting to feel worse again.
"Perhaps I could come tomorrow afternoon? You should be feeling better by then, after a good night's sleep and another dose of potion." Severus sighed and nodded. "All right then. Feel better, and we'll talk more tomorrow."
He took his leave, and Severus blew his nose, curled up under the covers and closed his eyes. He felt sorry for what Remus had gone through, and at the same time, rather proud of himself. He was glad he'd found a way to be a friend, something he'd never been good at. He'd managed despite the seventeen words.
But there are no seventeen words, a voice whispered disconcertingly. There is no limit, there never was.
Severus firmly pushed aside the lying voice, and fell asleep.
November 1st
Severus stared at the river, with Remus standing next to him. Remus had been there for quite some time, waiting for Severus to be finished, but the river would not release him. He coughed, as if to get Severus' attention, but to no avail.
"Perhaps we could come back," Remus said, hesitantly. Severus shook his head impatiently. He could not leave until the river released him. Remus shifted his weight and pulled his cloak around him to keep out the wind as Severus stared intently into the water. Finally the swirls and eddies merged and set him free-but it was weak and anticlimactic. Like they hadn't really had him in the first place.
Severus drew away uncertainly from the side of the bridge, glanced at Remus, and began walking.
"Are you all right?" asked Remus. Severus shook his head and shrugged, as if to say, no, but I can't explain myself, so never mind.
"Any news?" Severus asked, trying to let go of the river. Two words, he counted, ignoring the now ever-present voice telling him he didn't need to count his words at all.
"Don't you mean gossip?" said Remus, and this got a weak smile. "I never would have thought you had such a taste for it. But as it happens, I've heard something that might interest you." And Remus proceeded to tell about the scandal at Beauxbatons: a teacher was dating a student from the previous year. They both swore that it only started after the student graduated, but, well, some people believed otherwise. Then there were a few more mundane bits of news. They reached a bench, and sat down. There was a companionable silence as the two men gazed at a hawk circling the sky.
"You seem a bit out of sorts today," Remus commented, pulling out a handkerchief and blowing his nose.
Severus nodded. He supposed it was the dream he'd had last night. Ever since the soul-healer Lucilia Almabalm had been coming to see him, he'd been having very vivid dreams. Her actual treatments consisted of her looking at him with penetrating grey eyes, causing a strange tension in his chest. Then she'd nod with satisfaction, and leave-that was it. But at night, he had intense, emotional dreams that flooded his senses and felt more real than waking life. They changed every night, but one precious scene was repeated.
Severus dreamed that Albus entered his bedroom, stretched out his arms, and said, "Come here, my boy." And Severus went to him, and let Albus enfold him in his arms and hold him as he cried. Severus could feel the white strands of Albus' beard and the vibration of his chest as the wise old man spoke to him. "Shhh, it's all right. You've done well. I'm very proud of you, Severus."
"Do you forgive me?" he asked.
Albus held him closer and said, "There is nothing to forgive."
Nothing to forgive. Severus treasured this dream and the absolution it granted. It was one thing for the people around him to tell him he was blameless, but hearing it from Albus-even if it was only a dream-perhaps he could begin to believe it.
Last night, however, the dream changed. The same scene was repeated, but the feeling was different. Albus had seemed slightly weary, or perhaps impatient. Feeling anxious, Severus asked, "Do you forgive me?"
There was no reply.
"Do you forgive me?" he asked again, a little desperately.
Albus looked at him tiredly and replied, "Severus-I'm not the one you should be asking."
Severus shivered at the memory. It made him feel uncomfortable, ashamed.
"Are you cold, too? This warming charm doesn't seem to be working too well," Remus said, pulling his cloak around him more tightly. Severus didn't agree-he felt perfectly warm despite the November wind. Remus wiped his nose again. "Perhaps we should keep walking."
The two men rose and continued on. Remus was uncharacteristically quiet, and Severus began to suspect something was amiss. His suspicions were sharpened when Remus suddenly sneezed, "Atchhhish!" and then coughed. Severus wanted to bless him but opted for frugality with his words. Remus blew his nose again, and paused in his steps to do so. When he was done, he did not start walking again, but rather looked bleakly ahead at the path. Severus gave him an inquisitive look.
"I'm sorry, I.I just don't feel quite right, all of a sudden." He rubbed his forehead. "I don't know why."
Severus raised an eyebrow as if to say, you really don't know? When Remus looked blank, Severus informed him, "You're coming down with flu."
"No, I feel fi-well, that is, I felt fine an hour ago." Remus finished uncertainly. But when Severus gave no sign of changing his diagnosis, Remus looked dismayed. "Did it come on suddenly when you had it?"
Severus nodded, and placed his hand upon his friend's shoulder, turning him back towards the hospital building.
"I don't want to be sick," sighed Remus, as they walked back. Severus nodded his understanding.
When they arrived at the ward, Severus found Linden, the apprentice healer on duty. He beckoned him over and looked at Remus. The healer looked puzzled.
"I, ah, I think he wants you to take a look at me," explained Remus. "I seem to be coming down with something-but there's no need to bother-"
"What sort of something?"
"A touch of flu, I suppose-but please, don't trouble yourself."
"It's no trouble at all. Besides, we wouldn't want to worry the professor, now would we?" he asked, winking at Severus, who suppressed a smile. "Better let me have a look." Linden laid his hands upon his head, throat and chest, while Remus looked uncomfortable with the attention.
"Yes, you've got a bad flu coming on. You'll want to go straight to bed."
"But I have a class, my students-"
"They'll have a substitute. It's not the end of the world. Come on, we'll get you some fresh-brewed Pepperup -it's better than that instant stuff."
"They have substitutes every full moon," sighed Remus, clearly feeling badly about it. Severus rolled his eyes. There was no point in feeling guilty about things you couldn't help. Remus caught the look and smiled despite himself.
Linden brought Remus his potion presently. Remus drank it down and took his leave, the two men embracing.
"Feel better," said Severus.
"Thanks," Remus replied with a rueful smile. And he left, sneezing as the Pepperup kicked in.
When Remus had gone, Severus settled down to read. After Remus' gift of The Hedgehogs of Mossy Lane, Severus had begun to explore other books. He liked revisiting old children's classics, and found he could manage poetry as well. But not today. Albus' words kept coming back to haunt him. "I'm not the one you should be asking." If he thought about it, he would know what Albus meant, but it made him so uncomfortable that he avoided thinking about it. He stared at the fire, trying to focus on the flames and embers and enter the trance state he'd spent most of the last several months in. But thoughts kept intruding, faces, voices. James and Lily Potter rose up and he shoved their faces away.hadn't he atoned for that? What more did he have to do? Sirius came to mind, and Harry Potter in his wild grief.but that was the boy's fault, he hadn't practiced Occlumency, he'd violated Severus' most private thoughts.he shoved that away too. Then an image of himself in his dungeon classroom, his lip curled with some scathing remark, he didn't even remember what- and a little boy in front of him losing the battle against the tears that now spilled freely down his cheeks and trembling lower lip.the shrieks of laughter around him, crybaby, crybaby, that continued for months.
Severus found tears spilling over onto his own cheeks. Even then he'd felt pangs of guilt, although he'd tried to banish them by telling himself the boy needed toughening up. Now grown into a man, that same sensitive little boy was caring for him day in and day out. Linden had every opportunity to be cruel, but instead he was kind-bringing him food, making sure he was well-even, at the height of irony, comforting him when he cried. He acted like nothing had happened. Did he even remember? Was it just one of the many small hurts of childhood, forgotten with the passing of time?
He spent the rest of the afternoon crying quietly in the common room chair, trying hard but failing to lose himself in the flames. Linden came to check on him.
"Are you all right, Professor?" Severus nodded. "Just feeling sad?" He nodded again. The young man put his hand to Severus' head, stroking his hair comfortingly but also, Severus suspected, checking to make sure he was not sick again. "Anything I can do?" Severus took Linden's hand and squeezed it with a small sob, shaking his head. "Well, you just let me know, all right?" Severus nodded, and blew his nose as Linden left to see to another patient. Something in him seemed to give, and at last the flames drew him in to a place far removed from guilt and memory.
Severus spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in a trance. Lately he'd been going through meal and bedtime routines without help or reminders, but that night he had to be prompted at every turn. When he was finally in bed, Linden gave him his potion and performed the gentle healing spells Severus received every night. Severus watched Linden work and once again thought of the small boy in his classroom, and the pointless hurt he had so thoughtlessly given.
"Do you forgive me?" Severus blurted out suddenly, unconsciously- wondering even as he spoke if Linden would know what he was talking about.
Linden stopped, stiffened, and a shadow crossed his sweet and open face. Severus realized with a surge of fear and shame that Linden knew exactly what Severus was talking about. He had not forgotten at all. Looking guarded and not meeting Severus' eyes, Linden opened his mouth to speak.
"Do you apologize?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Severus whispered, tears spilling again from his eyes. "Yes."
His expression softened. He looked up at Severus. "Then, yes," he said. "I forgive you."
Severus nodded his thanks, now crying in earnest. Linden squeezed Severus' hands and put one hand upon Severus' shoulder. He gave his old professor a faint smile, and he left, the lights darkening behind him.
Severus pulled the covers around him and his tears slowed. "I forgive you" felt very different from "There is nothing to forgive", but it was good, nonetheless. He wondered if could tell Remus about it, in seventeen-
Suddenly he sat bolt upright in bed, in a panic. The words, the words-he had forgotten to count the words! Sweating with fear, he frantically counted back: he'd been at seven, then eleven, then-fifteen. He counted again to be sure, and breathed a shuddering sigh of relief. Only fifteen. He was safe.
He slipped back under the covers and felt his heartbeat slowly return to normal. Well, he had two words to use up. Once again he thought of Albus. He could see him in his mind's eye. "I'm sorry," whispered Severus, but it was no longer the murder he was apologizing for. Albus smiled and nodded his approval, and Severus drifted into sleep.
November 21
Severus gazed at the river with tears flowing down his cheeks. He no longer needed to gaze at it, but it was comforting, and it was private.
Things had been shifting for a while, he could now see. He'd been more responsive. He'd started to read again. His belief in his rituals-the river, the seventeen words- had been faltering. He'd been struggling to hold on to them, but then he'd had the nightmare.
In the dream, Lucilia Almabalm, the soul-healer, was there in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Severus was sitting down in his hospital dressing gown. Before him was Remus' old trunk with the boggart in it. It shook. Lucilia came before him, and gazed down into his eyes.
"Severus," she said. "This is going to hurt." Then she stepped aside as the leather straps of the trunk burst and the lid flew open. Out of it arose Severus Snape-the old Severus Snape, clad in jet black, strong and sharp, with a cruel sneer on his face. Severus in his dressing gown searched desperately for his wand, but he didn't have it. They'd taken it from him when he was hospitalized. He scrambled backwards but Lucilia held him from behind.
"It's all right, Severus, we've got you now," called Remus from across the room. Severus tried to break free but there was no strength in his limbs. He tried to scream but could barely whisper.
"No, no," he croaked as the old Severus approached him. He reached forward with his hands, and sank them deep into Severus' heart.
"NO!!!" Severus awoke screaming. He screamed and screamed, and as the healers came he broke down into sobs.
"Lucilia-where-" he gasped.
"Lucilia's gone," said the head healer. "She left tonight. She said to give this to you," he said, holding a cup of silvery potion to Severus' lips. "She said it would help you." So he drank, and his sobs slowly eased.
At the bridge, Severus wiped tears away with a handkerchief and blew his nose. He felt more private about crying now. He walked back to the building.
All the healers said that he had improved after the nightmare. He had stopped staring at dust motes, and didn't need to gaze at the river. He was reading books now, both fiction and non-fiction, and was less patient than ever with people who patronized him. Remus had laughed after he snapped at a new apprentice healer who'd called him `Sev'. "Well, there's a bit of the old Severus back!" he'd declared. But how much of the old Severus would Remus want back? Severus didn't know. And, conserving his words, he didn't ask. In the aftermath of the dream, he knew that the seventeen words were a figment of his madness. But he still kept to them, superstitiously-like someone who doesn't believe in touching wood but does it anyway, just in case. And he wasn't ready for all the talking he would have to do once they realized he could. He savored the peace and simplicity, the meditative quality of the seventeen words, even though he knew that someday, he'd have to let them go.
When Severus returned from his walk, Linden was taking his place at the healer's station. A change had occurred in their relationship since Severus' apology. Linden had always been scrupulously kind, but had never revealed anything of himself, not a word or a gesture that would betray his own thoughts or feelings. Only now did Severus realize it. For after that day, he began to share little things: the events of his day, an amusing story from his past, or some small excitement or disappointment. It was a subtle change but gratifying nonetheless, and Severus had grown fond of the boy. As such, he was concerned to see Linden arrive today with a decidedly pink nose, and wisps of steam coming out of his ears.
"Hello, Professor," the lad greeted him, somewhat less cheerfully than he normally did. Severus raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Yes, I'm sick. I thought I'd avoided this flu, but it finally hit me this afternoon. Or maybe this is a new one going around," he sighed.
"Why aren't you home?"
"Believe me, I'd like to be.ah.atchushhh!" he sneezed into a handkerchief. "But (sniff) someone has to work, and everyone else is either sick or pretending to be- there's a big Advanced Healing Potions exam tomorrow." Severus frowned, and thought Linden was too accommodating for his own good. He had taken such good care of all his patients through this lengthy flu epidemic; it didn't seem right that he should now be required to work through his own illness. Especially when he needed to study as much as any of his fellow students.
"I appreciate your look of disapproval," Linden chuckled. "I disapprove too. But I took Pepperup as soon as I started feeling sick; I should be fine. And I'll have some time to study too, after supper." Severus offered a slight "hmmph", indicating he still did not approve, but said no more.
After supper, Severus read his latest book by the fire in the common room. This one was a biography of Pilar the Blessed, a fourteenth century Spanish witch who had been a master of the Dark Arts, only to make a complete turnaround and die revered as a saint. It seemed relevant, her transformation. Apparently, Severus was going to live, and apparently, he was emerging from mental illness. But who would he be when he emerged? He had an image of himself in a blasted plain, surrounded by rubble, and picking through the ruins of his shattered self to decide how he could rebuild. He did not want to be who he had been: cruel, hateful, lonely, miserable. And he did not know if he ever could be again the master spy, the Occlumencer extraordinaire who had wormed his way through Voldemort's defenses and caused his downfall. Sitting in the madhouse, clinging to the seventeen words, overwhelmed if he received more than two visitors at a time-he didn't know if he would ever be strong and capable again.
Having been distracted by his own thoughts. Severus closed his book. He heard a sneeze from the healer's station, followed by a miserable-sounding blow. Linden's flu was getting worse. He'd been sniffling, sneezing and coughing with increasing frequency as the evening wore on. Severus looked up. Working potions problems at the healer's station, the boy was the picture of misery with a red nose, a handkerchief crumpled in his fist, and his old Hufflepuff scarf bundled around his throat. But it was clear that flu was the least of Linden's worries. He stared, unhappy and frustrated, at the scroll he was writing on. He scratched something out angrily and began writing again, only to stop in despair and bury his head in his hands. He appeared to be on the verge of tears. Potions, Severus knew, was his worst subject. He knew what Linden was thinking: if he failed his upcoming exam, he could fail the class, and that meant not becoming a Healer.
Severus had been re-reading old potions texts from the library, and knew that his mind was once again able to handle academic thinking. Perhaps he could point the lad in the right direction. He put down his book and walked over to him. "Let me see," he said. Linden hesitated, but then handed him the parchment. Severus scanned the work. And frowned.
"I knew it," said the young man. "It's all wrong. I've been working on it for two
hours."Severus was silent for a long time, deliberating. It was all wrong. His error was clear, but it was not a simple matter of pointing him in the right direction. His fundamental understanding of the concept was flawed. Finally he spoke. "You need help with this."
"Well, I don't have help," he snapped, uncharacteristically. "The exam is tomorrow."
The seventeen words loomed before him. But they were a lie, he told himself, and if anything was worth talking for, this was. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. "I'd like to help you," he said. Seventeen words. "But.I'll.have to speak more than I'm accustomed to." Twenty-seven. Merlin help me.
"Is that all right.I mean, you don't have to."
"It's all right, I think," he said, trying to still the tremor in his voice. He forced himself to stop counting. "And I believe I do have to help you." He pulled over a chair and took the quill and parchment, and felt his anxiety loosen its grip as he dropped into the familiar task of teaching. He pointed at an ingredient in the first inch of the problem. "Here's where you've gone wrong. It's not as bad as you think," he assured, when Linden looked like he would melt into despair. "This is a simple problem when you understand the basic principle. It's taken you so long because you've been working the wrong approach."
"But I did what it says in the book!"
"You did not. You haven't balanced your formula according to the Rule of Three Supporting Principles."
"I thought I did! I can never get that part right, there are so many exceptions-"
"There are only five exceptions you need to worry about. The others only seem to be exceptions on the surface, but are consistent when you consider the deeper nature of the components. Take dragon's blood."
Althea Wellspring, the Head Healer, stepped into the common room of ward seven on her nightly rounds, and was greeted by an amazing sight: Severus Snape was leaning over a scroll with Linden-lecturing him in potions. Lecturing. Talking.
".here, that would balance the excess heat of the bunthiwort. And the third?" he asked Linden.
"Well.I could use just about anything with a stable air influence at this
point.right?""Exactly. And the supporting elements do not even have to be physical components. For example, the reason you've gotten worse instead of better while taking Pepperup is.?"
"I haven't gotten enough rest," Linden said, aware that he was being chided. He suppressed a smile. "Rest is the third supporting principle."
"Precisely, and the potion won't work without it. The point is, the supportive foundation is relatively easy to manipulate, once you have the overarching structure. Fashion the structure, then the support, not the other way around. I don't want any fuss made," he said, turning an eye to Althea and her look of amazement. "He needed help, and I'm giving it to him, that's all."
Linden looked at her and shrugged, at a loss to explain.
"Alright then, no fuss," she agreed, not wanting to drive Severus back into silence by making a big deal of it. "But it's good to see, nonetheless." She turned to Linden. "Mind if I fuss over you for a bit?"
"Please do," he said, and she laid hands on him.
"Well, he's right- Pepperup hasn't had much effect," she sighed. "I'm sorry you had to come in tonight, Linden." Her hands were warm, as she directed a bit of healing energy into his body. It wasn't much, but it was something.
"It's all right. These things happen," said Linden. Too bloody accommodating for his own good, thought Severus again. Typical Hufflepuff. "It's been pretty quiet tonight, nothing else to report."
"Well, that's good. A half-hour to go, and then you can go home."
"I know, I'm counting the minutes. Thanks for the spell, I feel a bit better." And she moved on to the next ward, just bursting to tell the other healers about this new development.
"So, how do you feel about this?" asked Severus, indicating the scroll.
"Much better. It makes sense now, the way you explain it. I think I have a shot at passing that exam."
"I assume you'll take Hidamal potion tomorrow?"
"I certainly will. I don't care if I catch pneumonia afterwards," he laughed, triggering a coughing fit.
"I wouldn't be surprised if you did," Severus replied dryly. Hidamal suppressed the symptoms of an illness completely for a short period of time, but when it wore off, the illness was usually worse.
"I'll be-AtchOOO! all right," he assured, wiping his nose again. Then he looked at Severus and spoke more seriously. "Professor, I know you didn't want a fuss made, but.this is a big change for you. Are you going to be all right?"
"I.I think I may experience some.anxiety.but I believe I will be all right."
"I'll let the next shift know they should keep an eye on you. Is there anything else you'd like to say about it?" He wanted to know why, what had happened, what had changed, why he was so quiet before, but didn't want to press him.
"Not just now.I'll.discuss it later."
"All right. I'm just very glad-and honestly, very grateful. You've really helped me, and I don't know how to thank you."
"I'll tell you how you can thank me."
"How?"
"Owl in sick tomorrow."
Linden laughed. "All right, Professor. I will certainly do that." He got up. "But for now, I have to do bed checks before the next shift starts. And you should probably be in bed before that too-Master Regimeno won't be happy with me if he finds you up at this hour. And I've still got to do your spells."
"You already did."
"Oh Merlin, that's right. I can't think anymore," he said wearily, rubbing his eyes.
"It's understandable." He rose up. "Well, I'll go to bed, then. Good luck with the exam tomorrow."
"Thank you, Professor. Good night."
Severus went to his room. He looked in the mirror. In the quiet of his chamber, he searched himself for signs of panic, listened for a voice telling him that disaster would follow the breaking of his near-silence. But for the most part, he didn't find them. He realized he was ready to talk. He thought of Remus, thought of his unfinished letter to Harry Potter.
There were so many things to say.
December 24th
"Severus! Happy Christmas Eve!" shouted Remus as he entered the common room in Severus' ward.
"Happy Christmas," Severus replied, embracing his friend.
"Are you ready to go? Got all your presents together?"
"Your presents, you mean-you picked out most of them."
"Well, you paid for them, didn't you?" Remus replied with a twinkle. Remus had taken him Christmas shopping for one of his first outings, and had taken over when Severus found himself quickly overwhelmed. The fact that Remus had plenty of money to buy his own presents, for once, was part of his excellent Christmas cheer. "Let's get that paperwork filled out, and we'll be off."
Severus and Remus signed the forms necessary for an outing and then walked out of the ward. In the lobby they approached the large visitors' fireplace. Remus took a handful of floo powder, threw it in the flames, and said, "Thirteen Wickenden Lane!" They stepped into the roaring flames together.
They stepped out into a warmly lit gathering in Minerva McGonagall's living room.
"Severus! It's so good to see you here," said Minerva, embracing him. She pulled back and looked at him, as if drinking in the sight of him outside the hospital. "And Remus! Let me take your things." There was a bustle and a rush of greetings. They were all here-the surviving members and associate members of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry Potter, with whom he'd reached some kind of understanding, was the first to shake his hand and wish him a happy Christmas. The Weasleys (minus Arthur and George, who had died in the war), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mad-Eye Moody.they all greeted Severus warmly, happy to see him recovered enough to leave the sanitarium, if only for an evening.
"Now, now, go easy on him, give him a bit of breathing room," said Remus, worried that the press of party goers would be too much for Severus. But before he could fuss anymore, Tonks came up and kissed him deeply. Severus smiled. He hadn't seen them together often, as she was one of those people who hated hospitals. He could hardly blame her.
She broke off the kiss to sneeze-"Atcheww! Atchewww!" into her cupped hand. Remus looked sternly at her. "I know, I know, you were right. I am getting a cold," she admitted sheepishly. She conjured up a handful of tissues and blew her nose.
"Well, you're not the only one," said Minerva. "Half the people here have colds. The house elves actually put out a bowl of Pepperup next to the eggnog."
"This has been the worst winter," declared Molly Weasley. "There's been one thing going around after another."
"I've got a cold now, I've had flu twice, and it's only Christmas!" complained Harry, who sounded stuffy indeed.
"Yeah, ad you gabe all of theb to be," accused Ron, who sounded even worse.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say it was You-Know-Who's final curse!" said Molly.
"I think it's more likely we're all exhausted from the war," said Remus. And grieving, he almost added, but thought better of it. Christmas cheer was a fragile thing this year.
"That's exactly right," said Minerva. "Oh, there's some more guests-" She went to meet the latest arrivals, at the door this time.
"Severus, why don't we go and sit in the back parlor?" Remus suggested, thinking that it would be quieter. Severus agreed. He had never been much for parties even before the breakdown, and now.it was understood that he would not be able to stay for long. They settled into a cozy corner with a few comfortable chairs and Tonks volunteered to bring some drinks and food. They were quickly joined by Hermione Granger.
"Professor Snape!" she exclaimed. "I heard you were coming. It's good to see you. How are you?"
"I'm well, and you?"
"Well, I've got a cold like everybody else, but other than that I'm fine. I've made a lot of progress on my translations." and she sat down next to him and bubbled on about her work at the University, occasionally interrupted by a comment or question from her former professors-or a sneeze from her head cold. She was really quite brilliant, thought Severus, and that annoying know-it-all quality had diminished as she matured. Lately she'd been visiting him more frequently at the sanitarium, which he appreciated-although he had a sneaking suspicion it was because she'd developed a crush on Linden.
Soon Tonks returned with refreshments, and Minerva came over and settled into the conversation too.
"I've got the house elves answering the door for now," she said, sinking gratefully into a chair. "Really, this was supposed to be a small, quiet gathering! Where did all these people come from?"
"Oh, everyone wants to be associated with the Order now that we've won," said Tonks, sitting on the arm of the sofa, next to Remus. He slipped an arm fondly around her waist. She sipped at a cup of Pepperup and grimaced.
"Well, I suppose that's human nature," replied Minerva.
"Hitcheww! Atcheew! Tchoo! Atchoo!" Tonks sneezed in quick succession-the Pepperup was taking effect. People couldn't help but laugh.
"Bless you," Minerva said. "So, Severus-how did your students do in their exams?"
"They're hardly my students, Minerva, I've just been helping them study," he said. Once word got out that he was tutoring Linden, all the apprentice healers had wanted lessons. "And they won't know until the grades are in, but they all think they passed."
"Is it true you'll be tutoring potions at Hogwarts in the spring?" asked Hermione.
"I don't think we should discuss work here--" said Remus, wanting to steer the conversation away from a potentially stressful topic.
"It's all right," said Severus. "Minerva has been kind enough to offer me a part time position--"
"Kindness has nothing to do with it," said Minerva. "Our Potions Master is inexperienced, and the students could do with a bit more help."
"In any event, I hope to be able to accept, but the healers have not yet given their approval, or even settled on the date of my release."
"You can start as late as you want, you know," said Minerva. "It could be just for O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, at the end of the year-"
"Linden! Over here," called Remus, seeing the young man enter.
"Hello, Happy Christmas!" said Linden, brightening at seeing familiar faces.
"Happy Christmas," replied Remus. "Have you all met Linden, one of the apprentice healers at Clabbert Hill?" he asked. Severus felt badly that the boy had been roped into coming. Linden lived close by, and Remus had asked him if he would be willing to give Remus a break from watching Severus. Agreeable as always, he'd said yes.
"We're really doing fine for now," Remus told Linden. "Hermione, why don't you show him around, introduce him-I don't think you know many people here, Linden, do you?"
"No, but are you sure.?"
"Yes, we're fine, we'll come find you if we need you. You don't mind, Hermione?"
"Oh! No, no, not at all," she said, blushing. As she led him away, she sneezed-"Ah- TCHOOO!"
"Bless you. Sounds like you've got a cold," he observed, as they walked away together. They could not hear her reply, but she looked as if she were melting under his kind gaze.
"Meddling, are we?" Severus asked Remus, realizing he'd had an ulterior motive for inviting Linden.
"Oh, no, of course not. Facilitating, I should say," said Remus with a mischievous smile. Then he turned to see someone else approaching. "Well, Poppy! I didn't know you were going to be here."
While they were exchanging pleasantries, Severus noticed Neville Longbottom come briefly into the room. He saw Severus and quickly changed direction, heading out the back door into the garden. Severus sighed. He now knew for certain that the boy was avoiding him. He used to come visit whenever he saw his parents, but lately he'd stopped, and Severus thought he knew why. But he was quickly drawn back into the conversation, and didn't have time to dwell on it.
The evening continued in much the same way. The conversation was pleasant; people came to say hello, chat for a bit, and then would leave and be replaced by another greeter. He suspected that Remus had coached people to say hello but not crowd him and definitely not upset him. Well, he appreciated it. He was enjoying himself.
Sooner that he would have liked, however, Severus began to approach his limit. He felt himself fog over and begin to shut down. But he didn't want to leave yet. He tried some of the relaxation techniques they'd taught him in the endless counseling sessions he'd had since he began talking again, but they didn't have much effect. Perhaps if he could just get away and be alone for a moment.he got up from his chair.
"I'm just going to the bathroom," he told Remus when he opened his mouth to ask. "And no, you don't need to come with me."
"Hovering, am I?" he said jokingly-but blushed at the same time. "Sorry."
"It's all right. I'll be back in a moment."
Severus excused himself and made his way to the bathroom. But his few moments alone in there did not seem to be enough, and people were knocking, which only increased his anxiety. He left, and felt daunted by the number of people in-between him and the back parlor. He started to feel a bit panicky, and wondered if he could find a few minutes peace and quiet in a spare bedroom. He opened the door he thought he remembered, but it was occupied-by Linden and Hermione, standing in the middle of the room, engaged in a tender, passionate kiss. So absorbed were they that they didn't notice the intrusion, and Severus quickly closed the door.
Well, that was fast, Severus thought. Although he was pleased at the development, his feeling of over-stimulation was by no means eased. Thankfully, the side door was right there, and he escaped into the garden. When he closed the door on the noise of the party and breathed in the cold winter night, he felt immediately better.
The night was clear, and the stars were brilliant in a black sky. He could see his breath fog up in front of him. He walked around to the back where gnarled apple trees lifted their stark branches to the heavens. He looked back on the golden glow of the party and heard the muffled sounds of laughter carrying through the cold.
He continued around the garden. In the shadows, on a bench beside a hedge, there was an odd shape that soon resolved itself into the figure of a young man. He appeared to be trying to sink back into the shrubbery.
"Neville?" asked Severus. Had he been out here all this time?
"Hi, Professor," he said reluctantly.
Severus didn't know what to do. The boy was obviously miserable and sounded like he'd been crying. Should he leave him alone? Or try to.what? Cheer him up? Tell him he knew why he'd been avoiding him?
"Don't feel much like celebrating?" he offered, finally.
"I guess not.you know.miss my Gran." He was shivering, and he looked steadily at the crumpled, thoroughly spent tissues in his hand.
"Of course." He decided to broach the subject. "And.I think you had some hopes for your parents, did you not?" Neville began to cry, and Severus sat down next to him and hesitantly put his hand on his shoulder.
"It's not fair!" Neville burst out, making Severus jerk his hand away. "You were just like them at first, but you started getting better, and I thought-I thought-when I moved them-"
"I know," Severus said.
"I thought they'd get better too. And everyone said they hoped you'd be out by Christmas, and I thought maybe this Christmas, even though I wouldn't have gran, I thought.maybe I'd have something."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"But they're just the same! And you're getting out, and you're a big hero, but they're going to be stuck there forever! And no one visits them anymore except me.and it isn't fair, it just isn't fair."
"I know. It isn't. I don't know what I can tell you. I'm.I'm sorry." Severus tentatively reached out again to put a hand on the boy's shoulder, and this time he allowed it. "I don't know why I've gotten better and they haven't. I wish I could change it-I daresay they deserve healing more than I do." He realized he had a clean handkerchief and offered it to Neville. The boy took it and gave his nose a much-needed blow.
"This is the worst Christmas ever," Neville mumbled, sniffling. Severus couldn't argue, and sat with him in silence.
A little bowtruckle emerged from the dead leaves before them. Neville wiped his eyes and blew his nose again. He seemed to calm down as he watched the creature scuttling in the leaves. After a few minutes, it disappeared into the hedge. Finally, Neville spoke.
"It's just that.I thought I could do something. You know? For the first time, I thought I could help. "
"Well, you did do something."
"What?"
"You took them out of St. Mungo's, which is an awful place."
"It didn't make any difference."
"Yes it did. They're happier."
"Do you really think so?" Neville asked after a pause.
"I do. I live with them. And I was with them at St. Mungo's too." There was another long silence. Neville was shivering powerfully by this time. Finally, Severus spoke again. "Neville, at the risk of sounding like your grandmother, your teeth are chattering. If you're not going to do a warming spell, you should come inside."
"Or I'll catch cold?" he asked with a faint smile. "That's what she'd say."
The sound of a sneeze carried over from the party into the garden, and Severus tilted his head towards the sound. "Actually, I think you're more likely to catch cold in there. But at least you won't freeze."
"I guess I'll come in. I could never do a proper warming spell. Always singe my eyebrows." He got up rather stiffly, and they started back to the house. "You know, it's weird, you being like this."
"Like what?"
"You know.nice. It's hard to get used to."
"If it's any comfort, I'm not sure what to make of it either."
As soon as they entered the house again, Molly Weasley sighted him with relief and said, "There you are, Severus! Remus has been going frantic. Remus! Somebody go tell Remus we found him."
"He's right here," someone said, as Remus came in the door looking, indeed,
frantic."Merlin, where were you? What happened?" asked Remus.
"What do you mean, what happened? I went outside for some air. I was only gone ten minutes."
"It was closer to twenty. You said you were coming right back."
"Well, you don't have to keep track of me for every minute," Severus snapped.
"As a matter of fact, I just signed a very long and legally binding parchment that says I do!"
There was a silence in which Remus thought he saw a flash of the old Severus-the one who saved his cruelest remarks for those who dared to care about him. But the moment passed, and his friend broke into a wry grin instead.
"I suppose you did, didn't you?" Severus said. "I'm sorry. I ran into Neville, we started talking, and I lost track of time."
"It's all right, you just nearly gave me a heart attack, that's all," Remus said, looking relieved. "Happy Christmas Neville, I didn't know you were here."
"Happy Christmas," he replied, not terribly enthusiastically.
"You look half frozen," said Molly, concerned. She took out her wand and did a quick warming spell. "You shouldn't let yourself get so chilled, you'll catch cold." Neville gave Severus an amused look. "Come on into the kitchen, there's some hot cider on the stove. Now, you are coming to Christmas at the Burrow tomorrow, aren't you.?" Severus heard her say as she led Neville away.
"Is he all right?" asked Remus.
"He will be," replied Severus. "Remus, if you don't mind, I think I'm ready to leave."
"Of course. I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did. We'll just get our things-"
"Come around the tree, everyone, we're doing presents!" called Ginny Weasley, before sneezing-"Heh..hetchoo!!" into her hands. There was a general murmur of excitement as people streamed into the living room.
"Do you want to just stay for presents?" asked Remus, hopefully.
"All right, but I'm not opening them here."
"Gather round, everyone," Minerva was calling as they entered the living room. Severus saw Ron, Harry and Ginny joking with a slightly more cheerful looking Neville. Linden and Hermione emerged from the spare room, looking flushed and starry-eyed.
"Now, there are quite a few people here that we weren't expecting, so if you don't get any presents, don't blame us!" Minerva announced. Everyone laughed.
"AhTCHOOOO!" A tremendous sneeze interrupted the laughter. They all turned to see Neville sniffling, rubbing his nose and looking surprised.
"Bless you," Minerva sighed, conjuring a handkerchief and sending it to him with a flick of her wand. "All right, is everyone ready?" She waved her wand and said, "Regalum Distributo!"
All at once there was a mad rushing, rattling, whirling as the glittering pile of presents under the tree rose up and began whirling around the room. People shrieked and ducked and laughed, and soon, everyone in the room had a sizeable pile of presents in front of them. Despite her warning, it didn't seem that anyone was left out. Severus looked down at his own colorful mound of gifts-there were so many- and tears welled up predictably. He firmly bit his tongue to keep from crying. This was why he needed to open them in private. He had to get better control of himself before he went back to teaching!
"Do you want to just slip out the back?" asked Remus. Severus nodded, grateful that Remus understood. Avoiding a long string of goodbyes, they gathered Severus' presents and quietly made their way to the back fireplace.
"You're coming back here, aren't you?" asked Severus.
"If that's all right," Remus replied.
"Of course. And when you do, tell them." he said, looking at all the partygoers in the front room, opening presents.
"Yes?"
"Tell them all Happy Christmas for me."
"I will," Remus smiled, and they stepped into the fire and returned to the sanitarium.
February 2nd
Severus looked around his room. He thought he had everything packed, all the old possessions he'd had brought to him during his stay and the new ones he'd collected while he was there. It was more than he'd thought. He looked at bare branches outside his window and remembered the leaves he'd stared at for hours. He remembered the night he spent watching the sky, crazed and bleeding, desperate for the sunrise to give him words again. He remembered the tears, the nightmares, the endless rocking. The visits that lit up his days, the books that fed his recovering mind. And through it all, the patient, gentle healers.
"You can take them," Severus told the house elves who awaited his word, and as they began to transport his trunks, he left for the front healer's station. He'd already said his goodbyes to his fellow residents.there was nothing left to do but to do it.
"There he is," said Linden. His mood had been euphoric ever since the Christmas Eve party, due to his romance with Hermione-but today he looked happier than ever. He held a slim black cat in his arms. She jumped down, ran to Severus, and wound around his ankles with a possessive meow. Circe, his new familiar.
"Are you ready, Severus?" asked Madame Curlew, the hospital administrator. She was accompanied by Master Point, the head healer on duty.
"I am."
"Excellent. Here are the release forms you need to sign. Here.and here.initial there .and sign here. Good. Here's your agreement to your treatment plan.sign there. Keep this copy for your reference; it has all your instructions and your counseling schedule. Now, since you refused to make an unbreakable vow not to commit suicide, you'll have to sign this one," she said, hefting a very heavy scroll and letting it fall to the desk with a thud. She began to unroll it. "Here, and here."
Severus sighed, and began signing. His refusal to make the vow had delayed his release, but he was adamant. He would have nothing more to do with unbreakable vows.
"Well, I think that's it for that one," she said finally, and rolled up the scroll with a flick of her wand. He rubbed his hand, which was starting to cramp. "Just one more." She produced a short scroll, and they all three signed it. Then Madame Curlew removed Severus' wand from under the desk and held it in her hand.
"It has truly been an honor to have you with us," she said, "We all owe you so very much. I hope we have been able to repay you at least in part. Congratulations, Severus Snape--you are released into your own custody." And she handed him his wand and shook his hand.
"Thank you," said Severus, and he turned to shake Master Point's hand as well. "Thank you for all that you've done for me." He turned to Linden and they embraced. "And you especially."
"Don't mention it," he said gently. "Go on, they're waiting for you. I'll see you Tuesday."
"I'll see you then," he agreed-Linden had one final potions class to get through before he became a full healer, and Severus was going to make sure he did. He took one final look at the place he'd called home for the last seven months, and then dipped his hand into floo powder, threw it on the flames, and said, "Hogwarts, Severus Snape's rooms." He and Circe stepped into the flames.
They arrived in his new rooms a second later. There were flowers, balloons, a `Welcome Back, Severus!' banner, and Remus and Minerva with smiles and open arms.
"Welcome back, my friend," said Remus, hugging him tightly. Minerva embraced him too, and her eyes were moist. A loud meow was heard, and Circe looked up expectantly.
"This is Circe, a condition of my release," said Severus. "She'll be keeping an eye on me." And if he showed signs of depression or other problems, she would report it to the healers at Clabbert Hill. Severus had never cared for familiars, but he supposed this one was a good idea.
"She's beautiful," said Minerva, stroking her and scratching her head. She whispered something in the language of cats, and Circe meowed back.
"Do you need any help unpacking?" asked Remus.
"I think I'll be fine," he said, and flicked his wand at one of the boxes, whose contents immediately sorted themselves into his drawers and shelves. Remus laughed.
"It's good to see you haven't lost your touch."
They spent some time chatting, helping him to settle in and discussing the logistics of the tutoring program. Minerva then had to attend a meeting, leaving Remus and Severus to talk.
"I've got to go soon too," said Remus. "Are you going to be all right on your own?"
"I think so."
"Are you still worried about the students?"
"A little," he admitted.
"I'm telling you, you've got nothing to worry about. They think of you as a hero," he said.
"Remus, I returned to Hogwarts after everyone knew the truth, remember? They did not treat me as a hero."
"Well, it took some time to get used to the idea," he replied. They'd had this conversation before, and Remus decided to take it a little further. "And to be honest--well, you did kill Albus, and that was hard to forgive-you should know; it's taken you seven months in the hospital and the services of a soul healer to do it."
"I know," he said softly. "But they didn't have that." "They didn't need it. They had Rita Skeeter." Severus snorted. "I'm serious, her articles were very powerful. She wrote about how much you'd suffered, and painted you as a sort of martyred, misunderstood hero. I know she was only doing it to sell papers, but, well, it was true, and it changed people's perceptions. Everyone started pulling for you, including your old students. You've gotten the cards, the presents-what more does it take?"
"Seeing it for myself, I suppose. And I will, soon enough." He got up. "I'll be fine, Remus. You should go to your class."
"All right. You know how to get a hold of me if you need me." And the two men embraced with the ease of old friends.
Once Remus had gone, Severus sat on the bed and gazed out the window. He was alone.it was a curious feeling, both perfectly ordinary and quite strange. This was the first time he had been alone and unmonitored since he'd first been hospitalized.
Well, almost unmonitored, he thought with a sigh as Circe jumped up and nudged his hand with her head. He petted her and scratched her ears absently as he contemplated what lay ahead of him. There was so much to do.preparing for his lessons, which would start in a week. Somehow finding a way to manage his students and to protect himself without resorting to the cruelty that had once been his trademark. The good thing was that his tutoring sessions were optional. He had a little speech about it planned in his head: "These extra lessons are a privilege, not a requirement. I'm afraid I'm in no condition to handle constant behavioral problems, and if they occur, I will simply drop the offending student from the program." Yes, that sounded about right.
And then there was the office of the headmistress. He had not been in there since the night he killed Albus, not even in his brief stay at Hogwarts after Voldemort's death. He had a strong urge to go there now, but that was foolishness. He should wait, he should give himself time to adjust, not tax himself emotionally. Yes, he would wait. He rose to continue unpacking his things-but instead, somehow found himself instead heading out into the halls of Hogwarts, towards Minerva's office. Circe followed him.
The halls were relatively clear, as classes were in session. But eventually he did hear students approaching, and he quickly performed an Obfusco spell, which prevented anyone from noticing him. Inwardly he chided himself as they passed him-you can't hide from them for much longer! But he just could not face them right now, he could not face the things they might say to him. Entering a stairwell, he heard several girls talking the next flight up.
".signed up for them?"
"Of course I have, Professor Crucible's hopeless! Snape was a right bastard, but at least he made sense when he explained something. Never thought I'd be glad to have him back."
"My mum won't let me take them," said a third girl. "'Cos of him being mental and everything. But I signed up anyway, she won't find out. If I don't get an O.W.L. in potions, I'm doomed."
"I heard he's really different now."
They apparently exited the stairway and their voices faded away. He took a steadying breath. Well, it was not quite the adulation that Remus had described, but neither was it as bad as he'd feared. Oddly enough, he felt worse for Professor Crucible; the first year of teaching was never easy. He steeled himself to continue, but when another group of students approached, he thought better of it. He wasn't ready. Quietly, he returned to his rooms.
Severus spent the rest of the afternoon arranging his things, and generally avoiding going out again. But the evening meal approached, and Remus and Minerva arrived to accompany him to the Great Hall. Circe insisted on coming too, and padded briskly alongside Severus. On the way, a few brave students welcomed him back. Others gaped like fish as he passed them by. "They're just a little intimidated," said Remus. Severus did not reply.
Soon enough, they entered the Great Hall, lit up with candles and the glorious stars that arched overhead. It was as splendid as it was the first night he came, an awkward, scared misfit of a boy. The beauty of it had made his fears disappear, if only for a moment. So it was on this night. With Remus and Minerva at his side, protectively, he found his seat and tried not to imagine what all the students were whispering as they stared at him. Professor Crucible was obviously threatened, but the rest of the staff greeted him enthusiastically.
"Are you doing all right?" Remus asked in a low voice.
"Yes, I think so," Severus replied.
"Just let me know if it's too much."
"I will," said Severus. Well, it was different after all from when he was a boy, he thought. This time, he had friends looking out for him.
Presently, Minerva called for the attention of the room, and the clamor of voices and scraping chairs stilled.
"Tonight we welcome back to Hogwarts Professor Severus Snape. As you know he will be tutoring O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students in potions starting next week. There are no more slots available, but if you add your name to the waiting list, we may be able to add some sessions in a few weeks."
Minerva paused for a moment and Severus thought, no.no, Minerva, you said you wouldn't say anything.
"Professor Snape served Hogwarts as Potions Master and head of Slytherin house for many years," she continued. "But more than that.it was Professor Snape's skill, heroism and unimaginable personal sacrifice that enabled us to finally rid the world of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The entire wizarding world owes him a great debt. It gives me great pleasure to welcome him back to Hogwarts." And with that, the room burst into applause.
The applause roared through the room, taking him aback. Remus and Minerva urged him to stand, and he did. But the applause kept coming, and some of the students were on their feet. He looked out at their faces-for the most part, the smiles were genuine. His newfound control over his tears was tested, but he managed to keep his composure. Eventually the noise died down and he realized he was expected to speak.
"I-thank you," he managed. "It's good to be back." Unable to say more, he sat down. There was another spate of good-natured applause, and then the nightly feast began.
"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Remus asked.
"No," he replied with a smile. "Not so bad at all."
After supper, Severus felt more confident. He told Minerva and Remus that he would walk back to his rooms on his own, and they allowed it. He intended to return directly, but when he passed the hallway that led to Minerva's office, he felt it pulling at him once more. This time, he did not resist. Circe meowed a protest, but followed him as he turned down the dark hall.
Before long, he ascended the spiral staircase. The doors opened for him. Minerva was not there. Severus felt a cold sweat form on his skin and he shivered. Then he entered the office.
"Hello, Severus," said a kindly, white bearded man in one of the many paintings adorning the walls. "I let you in."
As Severus laid eyes on Albus' image, the grief hit him like a physical force, much harder than he thought it would.
"I'm not Albus," the painting said quickly. "I am a painting of Albus, a shadow."
"I know," he said, choking back a sob. "I know." Circe meowed stridently and rubbed against him.
"Severus, my boy. my dear boy."
Severus, no longer trying to hold back his tears, put his hand to the canvas and Albus mirrored him. Severus looked into the cracked oil paint ridges of his eyes, taking him in, this memory that spoke with Albus' voice.
"I'm not Albus." the painting continued, "But I'm enough of him to be very sorry for all you've been through, all that I-that he put you through."
"It was -very hard on me," he gasped. "All of it."
"I know."
Severus pressed his hand to his mouth as he sobbed. But he kept looking. He looked up at the kind blue eyes. He stared and stared until he could accept it, until he could be at peace with this fragment of the man he had killed, the man he had loved so much. And slowly, his tears eased. Finally he let his fingers slip away. The painted Albus did so too. He sat back in his chair.
"I am glad to see that you're well again," he said softly.
"I'm.I'm not who I was," Severus whispered. "I've changed."
"So I understand," he replied. "A painting hears a lot, you know. They say you've changed for the better. Would you agree?"
"Yes."
"Yes," he nodded. "I think.I think that Albus would be very proud of you."
"I think he would, too," Severus said, voice breaking, tears falling afresh. Circe yowled insistently, and her fur was standing up. "Oh, you're worse than Remus," he said to her. "I'm all right. I'm all right," he repeated, almost to himself. He dried his tears and blew his nose. "I should go.for now." he said to the painting.
"I understand. Come back and let me know how you're doing. But not too often," he cautioned.
"I know," said Severus. "I will."
Severus left the office and closed its doors behind him. He took some time to recover, willing the tears to really stop. He blew his nose until he was no longer sniffling. Well, he'd done it. He'd talked with what was left of Albus. And still he felt sane. Not only sane, but.strong.
He approached the spiral staircase and surveyed the hallways, still filled with students. Their whole lives were ahead of them, Severus thought. So was his. Circe looked up at him expectantly.
"Well," he said, "I have lessons to plan."
And with that, Severus Snape descended into the teeming halls of Hogwarts, Circe beside him and black robes flowing behind him.
Not tons of sneezing in this one, but colds/flu/caretaking are central to the story. Umm, and one little thing--I mentioned that in my recent Snape fic I based some elements on my life (I'm now embarassed about saying that!) Well, this doesn't have elements from my life in it--just so ya know.
I forgot--a big THANK YOU to the marvelous tarotgal, who contributed her editing superpowers to the story! You rock, TG!