The tone of Albus' voice was as placid as ever but carried an undercurrent of urgency. Not a single member of the Hogwarts' staff dared to dawdle at his urgent summons. The atmosphere when the Headmaster finally entered the staff room was tense and nervous. For him to have summoned them in this matter, shortly after their routine meeting, was an ill omen.
The look on the old wizard's face swiftly silenced the few murmured conversations. Dumbledore had always carried with him an air of eternal youthfulness, a spring in his step and a jovial twinkle in his eyes which he used to his advantage with disarming charm. Today every year seemed to weigh down his stooped shoulders, and his eyes were dull and spiritless, framed by dark circles. He wasted no time in getting down to business. “My friends, it is my sorry duty to bring you grave news. It seems that tragedy is no stranger these days, and that burden has weighed heavier on some than I had realized. Severus had become overwhelmed and has attempted to take his own life.”
Dumbledore watched the reaction of his colleagues with a heavy heart. Madame Sprout gasped and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Trelawney dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, mercifully silent. Even she would not dare to boost her ego with a disastrous prediction. Flitwick wailed and buried his face in his hands, his slight body trembling. Hagrid's sobs were near-silent, but the half-giant was nearly overwhelmed with grief. Sinistra looked pale and shaken. McGonagall bit her lip fiercely, forcibly reigning in her emotions. In this, he thought sadly, she and Severus were so alike. If only he had seen the warning signs for what they were. If only Snape had reached out… he shook his head. It was too late for such things. The only thing that mattered now was the present. He hoped that it would be enough.
The only one who looked unmoved was Professor Handley, the departing DADA professor. “Honestly, I don't know why you are all overreacting. Snape is obviously trying to get attention with this lame stunt. Pomfrey should be able to ascertain if he's taken the Draught of the Living Dead or some such nonsense. He's just sulking because he didn't get the Defense position again. The best thing to do would be to just ignore the whole thing and not play his game.” He recoiled at the openly hostile glares directed at him.
Dumbledore's voice was firm and icy as he spoke in a tone that seemed impossible from such a friendly spirit. “I highly doubt that this was a farce, Mister Handley.” The lack of proper title was a deliberate slap in the face. “Severus was quite thorough in his efforts. As it is, it took Poppy nine hours to stabilize him, and she is yet uncertain if he will make a full recovery. If I had been just moments later--” he choked. There was a collective shudder as the others imagined the scene that Albus had stumbled upon.
Handley rose stiffly. “I take it that I am excused, then.” He felt the angry stares on his back as he exited the room. He had a feeling that they were all too glad to see him go.
Sprout asked tearfully, “What will happen to him, Albus? Is there anything we can do to help?”
Her concern was a balm to his heart. “I wish I knew. He would receive the best care at St. Mungo's. They are equipped to deal with situations such as this. If it were anyone else, I would gladly send him there. The doctors are very skilled and professional, and they have an excellent bedside manner. However, I don't think it would be the right choice for Severus. He does not trust others easily and may be intimidated by unfamiliar surroundings. Paranoia has become a necessary evil for his line of work, and it is a factor that must be taken into account. He has a long-standing rapport with both Poppy and myself, and we hope to build upon it. But to make any real progress, he will have to want to recover. I believe that that will be the hardest task.”
Minerva rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Whatever shall we do with the Slytherins? They will want to know what happened to Severus. I admit I had my doubts about him as Head of House, but he's done a remarkable job with the most troublesome of houses. They will feel lost without him.”
The Headmaster nodded. “Agreed. I will speak to them at the first opportunity before addressing the rest of the school. They will not react well to Severus' latest… illness, but it is best that they do not find out through the gossip mill. Sinistra, you are appointed Acting Head until further notice.” The witch nodded, still looking rather shell-shocked but relieved to have something constructive to focus on.
Flitwick blew his nose loudly in his handkerchief. “Albus, if there's anything we can do….”
Dumbledore smiled faintly. “I will let you know directly. All of your support is appreciated. I fear that the coming days will be taxing in the extreme. I pray that we will be up to the task.” His expression sobered. “It is important to maintain a positive outlook. I want no self-recriminations or second-guessing.” How hypocritical of him, asking something of him that he himself could not obey.
McGonagall wrung her hands. “Potter and Longbottom. They knew something was wrong, and I did not listen. I told them it wasn't their business. Perhaps I should have made it my business. But Severus is such a private person. I thought he'd be fine if given enough space.” Her nails dug furrows in her palm.
Remus bit his lip, staring down at the table. Albus had hoped to welcome his former student back on happier terms, but just having him here was a positive step. Still, it was obvious that the young man was also feeling plenty of guilt. “We were always so awful to him. Jamie and Sirius especially, but I could have been nicer too. On the train a few days ago, Sirius did something really cruel, and I didn't stop him. I let a grudge interfere with my better judgment and allowed Severus to be hurt. We unearthed skeletons and opened old wounds. I can't help but feel responsible.”
Albus favored them with a compassionate look. “I know that each of us feels to blame, but in the end this was Severus' decision to make. I'm sure that he would be quite insulted to hear that we think so highly of our influence over him. Instead of dwelling on the past, we must focus on what we can do in the present. Our first concern must always be for the students. They are curious and observant by nature and will know immediately that something is amiss. Out of respect for Severus' privacy, I ask that the circumstances of his 'illness' remain confidential. It should suffice to say that he has suffered a relapse of his earlier sickness. Poppy has volunteered to administer the potions finals in his stead, so we should be able to finish the school year with minimal disruption, academic-wise. I am loath to think any further ahead than that.” He rose, signaling the end of the meeting. “We must remain strong and united during this dark time. Severus needs us to stand together and provide a network of support, should he ever choose to use it. All we can do is hope.”
* * * * *
Harry knew something was immediately wrong when he entered the Great Hall. There was usually a soft babble of voices and clink of silverware, but today the entire room was strangely subdued. The students had picked up on a sobering vibe and were reacting in kind. Eyes darted back and forth, from each other to the faculty table, where the teachers sat with stony expressions. A shiver went down his back. The last time the atmosphere had been so heavy and somber was after Cedric's death.
His feeling of dread was magnified when Dumbledore stood and addressed the room. “If I may have your attention?” The gesture was moot, as all eyes were already upon him. “The end of the year is always a busy time, and a bittersweet one for many. It means the end of one phase, and the beginning of another. It is my sad duty, however, to inform you that one of our group will be unable to take part in the usual end-of year-preparations. Professor Snape has fallen gravely ill, and while he is receiving the best treatment available, it is uncertain if he will recover before the end of the term. This comes as a particularly harsh blow to Slytherin House, and every effort has been made to accommodate the needs of those students. Visitors are strictly forbidden at this crucial juncture of his care, but I am sure that any letters or messages would be appreciated. Madame Pomfrey has agreed to proctor all Potions exams, so please do not see this as an opportunity to slack off and neglect your studies.”
His words were drowned out by an eruptive cheer. To Harry's great horror, the majority of the school was smiling and smacking each other on the back, as if this was some kind of unexpected gift! Neville seemed to be the only one who echoed his sentiments. Meanwhile, the Slytherin table was eerily silent, its occupants glaring hatefully at the rest of the room. Some of them fairly trembled with anger. Several first- and second-years were quietly crying, trying to hide their tears behind a handkerchief. Others merely sat expressionless, staring vacantly at their untouched meals. The pride in their house and was palpable, and they were trying to brace themselves against a crippling blow. The news did not seem to come as a surprise to them, so Harry surmised that they had had some forewarning, but it seemed to do little good.
“SILENCE!”
The hall fell abruptly silent as the students turned to face the Headmaster as one. The sight was frankly frightening. Dumbledore's cheeks were flushed with anger, and lighting flashed from his normally placid eyes. “I am gratified to see that the illness of a respected professor has brought you such joy,” he said coldly. “Since you are in such high spirits, I am sure that you will not mind missing the final Hogsmeade outing of the year. Mister Filch also has some chores that need attending to, I believe.” The grizzled caretaker smiled cruelly. His collection of manacles and chains could use a good oiling.
“Twenty points from Hufflepuff!” Madame Sprout said furiously, further shocking the student body, who had never seen the good-natured witch so cross. “I had hoped that you would have learned the value of life this past year. It saddens me to see how cheaply you esteem those who would protect you.”
“Twenty points from Ravenclaw House,” Flitwick echoed, standing on the table so as to be fully visible. “And twenty more from the first person who complains.”
Professor McGonagall rose to stand beside Dumbledore, her features tight with anger. “I am removing thirty points from Gryffindor House. Quite frankly, your reaction disgusts me. I am ashamed to be your Head of House.” She turned on her heel and swiftly exited the hall.
* * * * *
Snape's true condition did not remain secret for long. The ever-enterprising Slytherins snuck an innocent-looking first-year down to the hospital wing for an investigation. The house members were heartbroken by the young boy's findings. Somehow word leaked out to the other three houses as well. The Slytherins were frustrated and angry – theirs was a house of secrets, and they had sought to protect their mentor's reputation as best as possible. Several fistfights broke out daily, most of them unsurprisingly with Gryffindor House. The big surprise, however, was Neville, who threatened to punch Ron in the nose if he made just one more snide comment to the Slytherins. Ron, shocked, had demanded how Neville could defend that bastard. Neville had replied that he knew what it was like to be lonely. No one had had an answer to that. Afterward, the shy boy found Draco staring at him from time to time, but the pranks and jokes had stopped.
Harry was at a loss for what to do. A part of him wanted to help Snape, while his rational mind knew that such a proud man would never accept it. The students continued to chafe under the new chores imposed on them by Dumbledore, but they were a lot quieter about it once they learned what had befallen the Potions Master. Harry was aghast to hear some of his classmates talk – some of them felt that the man deserved every terrible thing that could possibly happen, and taking his life could only be for the good. Harry had treated them to the rough side of his tongue, and a few of them had met with the business end of his wand. There were a growing number of students that were a little more sympathetic. Though it was unanimously decided that Snape was an all-around git (even Harry shared that viewpoint), he did not deserve this fate. They were willing to forgive some of the man's bitterness when glimpsing the misery that fuelled it. Harry spent several long nights curled up in front of Remus' fireplace, trying to help the returning professor come up with a way to reach Snape. Although the talks made him feel a lot better, they were rather unproductive in the long run. Sirius had dropped by a few times to spend time with his godson, but Snape remained a sore issue. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. He could tell that Black harbored a lot of guilt, and yet could not put his hatred aside to address it. Remus and Harry were very careful not to mention his name around Black for fear of causing a scene. Quietly, Hogwarts waited. It seemed that the very castle held its breath, not wanting to disturb Snape's convalescence. It was up to him now.
* * * * *
“When your day is long
And the night
And the night is yours alone
When you sure you've had enough
Of this life
Hang on
Don't let yourself go
Cause everybody cries
Everybody hurts
Sometimes”
-- “Everybody Hurts” -- REM
The pale man stirred weakly in his hospital bed, his lanky black hair a sharp contrast against the crisp white linen. He opened his eyes a crack, and quickly squeezed them shut. The sunlight was far too bright for the dungeons. Where was he, then? And why did he feel as if he'd been stampeded by a hippogriff?
“Severus Snape! You ungrateful, miserable git!” He winced at the loud noise that reverberated through his pounding skull. Madame Pomfrey loomed over him like a Valkyrie seeking to do battle. “Of all the stupid stunts! Do you know how long it took for me to put you back together? Two days! Not to mention how much work it took to heal you of that cursed fever just last week. What the devil were you thinking by scaring us half to death?! Why, I've got a mind to--”
Snape groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head to block out the sound. Alive. He was alive. Great Merlin, what had he done to deserve this? He listened idly to Pomfrey's irate droning, blocking it out until it was nothing more than a distant buzz, like a pesky fly. Eventually she gave up and wandered away. As soon as she was gone, he pulled all the curtains shut with sluggish moves and curled up in the darkness. Just those small movements were enough to make his uncooperative body exhausted, and he gratefully sank into sleep.
* * * * *
“Three days, Albus. He's been like that for three days. All he does is stare out the window, or lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. It's just awful. I practically have to sit on his chest and shovel food in his mouth to get him to eat anything.”
“I see,” the old wizard nodded soberly, placing a hand on the mediwitch's arm. “I'm certain that you're doing the best you can for him, Poppy.”
“That's just the point!” The fiery nurse looked so despondent that it tore at him. “Physically, he's fine. There's nothing more I can do for him. But he's not emotionally there at all. He's determined to keep from interacting with the rest of the world. I don't know how to get through to him; it's like I'm talking to the wall. I'm starting to wonder if keeping him here is doing any good at all. Plus, I've got other patients who I fear will only end up disturbing him. I think he'd be more comfortable in his quarters, but I'm afraid to leave him unsupervised.”
Dumbledore set his jaw determinedly. “I think I can help in that department.”
Severus sat glaring at him fiercely several minutes later, as the powerful wizard sat holding his wrists lightly yet with surprising strength as his wand passed over them. He shuddered but did not make a sound, scarcely blinking, his stare full of silent hate. Albus felt his insides twist as he performed the binding spell. He knew that Severus would see it as just another betrayal, but Dumbledore was at the end of his rope and out of options. The spell was borderline Dark, used here for the purpose of Light, but it was not without its sinister aspects. It would ensure that Severus could not knowingly cause himself bodily harm. It was Light in that it preserved Severus' life, but Dark in that it took away his right to fully control the fate of his own body. He prayed that this act would not drive Severus further away, beyond all reach. It was the only way he could think of to keep Snape alive, until he decided that that was what he wanted for himself.
It was a relief to Snape to finally be back in his old quarters. Here he could wallow in his solitude, with no irritating sunlight or prattling children to disturb him. He still trembled with anger at the residual tingling from Albus' binding spell. How dare he?! Hadn't Snape done enough for him? He had given the man so many years of blood, sweat, and tears; didn't he deserve to die in peace? He had paid his price. What use was there in continuing to exist?
House Elves were sent periodically with small trays of food. He picked at them, knowing full well that the creatures would not leave until he had consumed at least a small portion, but sent the majority back uneaten. He flipped through his collection of academic lore, and even a few amusingly trashy novels, but nothing could hold his attention. Even his beloved potions had lost their allure. Potion-making was the one thing that had kept him going in the past. It was a craft that had never deserted him, but now it left him hollow. Everything seemed so superficial and meaningless. What point was there to anything?
He was grateful to Poppy for forbidding visitors during his recovery. The moment he was safely in his own quarters, he constructed the most powerful, menacing wards he could manage. Whoever tried to breach them would receive a nasty shock. He reinforced them every day, until he was certain that none but the Headmaster could penetrate them. If he was going to suffer, he was going to do it alone.
As pointless as it seemed, the potions did help a bit. Especially the Draught of the Living Death. He could sink into a sleep so powerful it mimicked death itself, which was somewhat reassuring, as it was as close as he could come at the moment. He was half-tempted to throw himself at Voldemort's feet and ask to be killed. Knowing the sadistic bastard, however, he would let him live simply out of spite. Perhaps he could arrange to be 'caught' while at Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley and taken to the Dark Lord as a trophy. Anything had to be better than this.
One night he awoke groggily, the residuals of the Draught still coursing through his veins. He dimly realized that there was something wet on his face, and thought that perhaps he had been crying in his sleep, until something warm and damp swiped him again. His eyes cracked open to see a large animal with sharp fangs, its tongue leaving sloppy trails across his face. He sat bolt upright, yanking the covers up to his chin as his hand groped for the wand hidden underneath the pillow. It was a scene plucked directly from his nightmares, a vision that had played night after night. Werewolf!
The furred animal began to shift and blur and was quickly replaced by the slight form of Professor Lupin, clad in his customary patched and frayed robes, the moonstone pendant around his neck. Snape scrubbed at his face with a corner of the sheet in revulsion. Dammit, why had he not realized that his wards would be ineffectual against animals? “What the devil are you doing here? Get out!”
Remus tugged his shabby robes around him and perched on the end of the bed. “Severus, I've just come to see how you're getting along. Everybody's worried about you, you know. They want to help; they just don't know how.”
Snape growled and threw his pillow across the room. Unfortunately, it did not hit anything breakable. “I'll just bet. You've come to mock me, haven't you? Busy gloating at what I've become? Well, take a good long look. I'd hate to deny you the opportunity of a laugh at my expense.”
The man carded his hands through his sandy-brown hair, which was slightly graying at the temples. “Severus, that's the last thing I want to do. Merlin knows that I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but I couldn't just stand by and let you fall apart with no one to turn to. You're always going on about how we're Albus' darlings, but why can't you see that you're the one he dotes on? He thinks of you as his adopted son, do you know that? He cares about you so damn much, and you won't come out of that miserable shell of yours to see it. He's been sick with worry over you and I just know he blames himself for what has happened. You are not alone in this. There are so many people who will show you kindness, if only you are open to it.”
“Ha!” Severus spat, throwing as much venom into that one syllable as possible. He felt his body begin to tremble with fatigue and lack of food, and he cursed his weakness. “That's easy for you to say. Everybody loves you, the poor little lamb of a wolf. What do you know of my pain? How can you possibly think to understand me?”
Remus reached out and took his hand in his own, stroking lightly over the long, elegant fingers. Severus shivered but did not pull away. The contact was gentle and warm, and he felt himself leaning into it. It had been so long since he had allowed anyone close to him, without fear or anxiety. It was foolish of him to feel this way now. Surely this Dark creature had nothing good to offer. Somehow, that seemed unimportant. What did it matter if he was hurt again?
“You're wrong, you know.” Snape lifted his head, startled. “I've been lonely a lot. For almost all of my life, in fact.” Lupin's face was lined in pain, a pain that nearly mirrored Snape's own. It was enough to take his breath away. “I was bitten when I was very young. I didn't have the time to form many friendships, and the ones that I had disappeared pretty quickly. No one wanted anything to do with a werewolf. When I met James, Peter and Sirius, it was like a dream come true. When they learned to become animagi to keep me company, it was like the gods themselves were smiling upon me. But all too soon, it all fell apart as if it had never been at all. James was dead, we believed Peter to be dead, and Sirius was branded a murderer. Even know, with the truth known, it can never really be the same. I have Sirius and I'm grateful for it, but there will always be an empty spot in me when I remember the Marauders and what used to be.”
Severus bit his lip, staring intently at the far wall. “I almost had a brother, you know.” Remus had the eerie feeling that Snape was talking more to himself than to him. “After I was born, my parents kept trying to have another child. I imagine it was because I was such a disappointment and they wanted a more suitable heir. Finally, Mother became pregnant, and she and Father were delighted. She lost the baby two months into the pregnancy.” He closed his eyes, and his voice shook slightly. “I had looked forward to being a big brother so much. Who knows, maybe the kid would have hated me. He would have definitely been spoiled. But I would have had a playmate, someone to keep me company. Mother and Father were never around. All I had were the house elves, and all but Lucky were forbidden to play with me. When the baby died, my parents hated me more than ever. I thought that for the longest time that babies were made to order. I could never figure out why my parents didn't just exchange me for something better. Mother did that all the time in the stores. I figured I was just defective merchandise somehow. How I envied that little baby. He would never know how awful the world could be. I wanted more than anything to go where my little brother had gone. I asked Mother if I could be with him, and she said that Heaven was only for good little boys and was a place I'd never see. I guess she was right on that account.”
Remus scarcely dared to breathe as Severus continued his monologue. It seemed to be a purging of sorts. “When I arrived at Hogwarts, I was surprised at how many children there were of my age. I had always taken my lessons from private tutors. My family lived on an island, and I was not allowed to venture to the mainland very often. I had been raised to act like an adult, and my classmates confused me. They seemed to enjoy doing the most frivolous things together. It was as if we were different planets. I had always been naturally curious and found myself watching my classmates endlessly. They had something called Friendship. I couldn't understand how they all came together so easily, as if they had always known each other. Your band of Marauders fascinated me to no end. I spent hours and hours pondering it. What did you have that I didn't? I figured it out eventually. I was Different. I was too ugly and too smart to have any friends. You'd think it wouldn't matter, not having something I had never experienced, but it hurt. I don't think it ever stopped hurting. I came to terms with it long ago, but it's never totally gone away. So there. Go back to your friend and laugh. It doesn't matter anymore.” He sank down on the remaining pillows, feeling deflated. Despite the ache in his heart, his eyelids drifted closed, as if weighted down. His instincts screamed at him to stay awake; he was practically offering his throat to the werewolf, but what did it matter? He had nothing to lose, and he felt too worn out to care.
As he fell asleep, Remus sat stroking his hair, tears streaming down his face, hidden in the darkness. “What have we done? Merlin, what have we done?” He tucked the blankets around the frail figure. “You are not alone, Severus. I am here for you, whether you like it or not. I'll make this up to you, I swear it.”