Tuesday, Aug. 27, 8:15am

Oh god, I can't get him to wake up. Why won't he wake up!? . . . .

---

Flashback:

When Harry left to go see the Wolf, Severus called Dumbledore, ostensibly to inquire about the rest of Harry's mail, but in truth because he was interested in seeing how the Headmaster was doing. He had not seen much of Albus the last few days, while he had been taking care of Harry in the aftermath of their "visit," indeed had only checked on him once a day or so, and never for very long. But Harry seemed to be doing well - he had surprised Severus, in fact, with his willingness to go see Lupin - and Severus thought he could get a visit of his own in with the Headmaster. He knew Minerva would have advised him if Albus took a turn for the worse, so he hadn't really been worried about the old man. Not really.

But for this visit, he insisted, Dumbledore had to come down to his quarters, in case Harry had to return early after a fit of temper. He had to be available for the boy if he was needed. Being needed -- even if only possibly -- was a new feeling for him, and he didn't want to screw it up.

The Headmaster was all too happy to comply, and Floo'd down, dressed in one of his silly, garish robes and a floppy wizard's hat, both in the same colors. The robe, however, was purple with golden snidgets flapping around, and the hat was gold with purple . . . dinosaurs? Severus didn't ask, just served tea with biscuits.

"You seem in an expansive mood this evening," Albus said as Severus offered him milk for his tea, which the man waved away. His mood seemed muted, as it had since the encounter with Harry, but Severus could not be too upset over the more serious turn his mentor had taken.

"Harry is doing well," he said and allowed a small smile for the progress the boy had made over the last month. "His temper has calmed some, helped, I think, by our sparring as an outlet for his aggression. He's even becoming more adept at Occlumency, though I would never have believed it possible if asked a year ago. Tonight he's visiting with Lupin." He paused, took a sip of tea. "It's only a couple days yet, but I hope he'll be able to attend classes on time."

"That is good news." The Headmaster sighed. "I am glad for the boy's recovery. And he deserves a chance to finish school."

He deserves a chance . . . Severus' gave him a sharp look. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Alas, we have a . . . hitch."

"A hitch? What kind of hitch?"

"A Lucius Malfoy sort of hitch."

The breath froze in Severus' lungs. "What has he done?"

"He has brought charges against Harry, for underage use of magic and threatening the life of a wizard with an Unforgivable."

"Albus, what he did to Harry was Unforgivable!"

"I know, Severus. Yelling at me won't change Lucius Malfoy's mind." The Headmaster's eyes were tired, his head almost bowed. Severus had never seen him so worn down. "And it isn't fair, and it isn't right, but since when have fair and right ever meant anything in Harry's life?"

"But," Severus sputtered, "but he didn't actually cast the spell! How can they charge him with use of magic?"

"Lucius has claimed another incident for that charge. The spells Harry cast to try and protect himself from his kidnappers."

Severus shut his eyes. "Against Bellatrix, Nott and me."

"Yes."

"Merlin, it never stops, does it?"

"Tom Riddle will do anything in his power to destroy Harry," Albus said wearily. "Even work within the constraints of our own laws."

Severus shook his head. "But it was self-defense! They can't charge him for that!"

"A year ago, they did just that, if you'll remember."

"But Fudge is an idiot! And the Dementors were sent by Umbridge, weren't they? Harry was exonerated. Isn't Scrimgeour supposed to be better than that?"

"He's a politician, Severus. And newly elected."

"But Lucius is supposed to be in Azkaban! How can he bring charges when he himself is . . ." He stopped. Shook his head. "He's somehow gotten his own conviction overturned, hasn't he?" he asked tonelessly.

"He has." Albus sighed and took a small sip of tea. His fingers traced the patterns on the cup, and he did not meet Severus' eyes.

Severus watched him carefully, his expression closed and carefully blank. "No."

Albus closed his eyes. "You have to understand--"

"What I understand is that you are expecting me to turn my ward over to a cock up of a court, where he can be tried and sentenced by those who wish him dead or worse. And I will not have it."

"I . . ." Albus let out another sigh. "I did not expect you to, no."

"Good. Then we understand each other. Don't we." It was not a question, and Albus did him the courtesy of not replying. Still, Severus glared at him, and his tone was icy as he said, "I don't know how you could even consider doing what they wanted. What is wrong with you?"

"It's . . . complicated."

"Uncomplicate it for me."

"The Order is coming under fire from the Ministry--"

"Again. That is nothing new."

"Severus, please, you asked for an explanation."

Severus gave a tight nod and waved his hand, wondering what could have brought Albus to this lunacy, after all that had happened between him and Harry . . . or perhaps that was it. Perhaps he feared for himself, or his own power and was willing to sacrifice Harry -- again! -- to make sure his position on the side of Light was assured. No. Severus did not want to believe that, and yet . . . this was the same man who wanted to send Harry to St. Mungo's when he'd first come back from Topsham. He was fully capable of anything. And he was afraid, Severus knew, of Harry and the power he had shown last week, which had brought both of them low.

"As I said, the Order is coming under fire. If we do not have access to Ministry information, our ability to respond to crises is very limited. Lucius has brought up these charges, which are patently false, and which he seems to think he can ramrod through court. If he can be brought down, with Harry's testimony, and yours, as his guardian and witness to both incidents, then not only will Lucius lose face, but Scrimgeour as well."

Severus shook his head. "No, Albus. The Dark Lord has his spies everywhere, as you well know, including the Ministry. What they want is for Harry and I to appear anywhere outside the protective walls of Hogwarts, where both of us can be captured or killed." For all of it, he would hope to be simply killed, but he knew the Dark Lord was more likely to have ordered their capture, so he could continue where he'd left off in Topsham.

"You would have every protection--"

"Not good enough! Harry will remain at Hogwarts indefinitely, if he has to, or until Scrimgeour is replaced and the Dark Lord is dead. I will not turn him over to those monsters!"

The blue eyes held zero twinkle, had not since Albus' "conversation" with Harry, and this time, he did not even try to hold Severus' gaze. His exhaustion was apparently complete, and Severus hoped that his capacity for callousness with regards to Harry's well being was exhausted, too.

"You're right, Severus, of course. Harry needs to remain safe."

Severus nodded, and reached forward to the teapot to pour another cup, when pain shot through his left forearm like it had been suddenly set ablaze. He dropped the cup, watching as if time had dilated, as it rolled under the table in front of him. He clutched at his arm with his right hand. Teeth clenched against the burn of his Dark Mark, which grew hotter and hotter with each passing moment, he drew a hissed breath. The skin beneath his hand started to smoke from the heat, and he actually felt it rippling under his fingers. Yanking up the sleeve of his shirt, he grasped at the Mark again, as the snake on his forearm writhed in his flesh.

"Severus?"

Through panting breaths, he said, "He's . . . calling . . . Very . . . focused."

In fact, his connection to the Dark Lord had not hurt like this in ages. Years? Perhaps not ever. It was if He was focused completely on one goal, that of causing Severus pain through the Mark. When they had first escaped Topsham, the Dark Lord had sent a few pulses Severus' way, enough to show he was angry, enough for Severus to need pain potions or Dreamless Sleep to keep from clawing his skin off, until the call ceased. But this! This was agony.

He was always Occluded, which usually staved off the worst effects of any pain on his mind and left him able to make decisions. But this time, he could not clear his mind enough to think. It burned! Ai, Merlin! His skin was blistering, and the snake slithered through the meat of his arm. His stomach churned, nausea making the tea rise again, and he could not hold back as he spewed it across the table.

His senses narrowed to exclude everything but the Mark: the smell of his charring flesh, the feel of the serpent's wriggling, the excruciating torment of his burning muscle and skin. And the whine of something in his ears . . .

And then, a sudden coolness, against all that fire, as if his whole body had been doused in ice water. The shock brought a scream to his lips, and the edges of his vision went black. He swayed in his seat, needing to vomit again, needing to summon . . . something? For pain?

The sound of his harsh, rasping breaths was louder than thought, and then, "Severus, can you hear me?"

The voice was hollow, as if from a long tunnel, and he tried to respond. "Ungh."

"Good, good. I have a potion for you, my boy. For pain. Drink this." A vial touched his lips, and he sniffed at it, trying to remember why he would need to do so, but he just could not concentrate. "It's all right, Severus. Please, drink it; it will make the pain go away."

The please caught his attention and tugged at his memory. It meant something, "please," but the pain kept him from understanding. He drank the potion. Like the plaintive, hollow voice promised, the pain went away, even as he felt into blackness.

---

Harry shut the door behind him and moved toward the sitting room. "Severus? I'm home," he called again. But there was still no answer. Odd. Though, maybe Snape was working in his lab. He certainly was abed yet; he tended to keep awful late hours, and besides, he'd have wanted to make sure Harry was back from visiting Remus on time. Wouldn't he?

A strange odor hung in the air, almost like burnt meat. Then he saw the teacup under the table, and the spill on the soft rug, and the second cup sitting almost full near the pot. What the hell? He bent over to retrieve the cup and frowned when a jolt went through his fingers, making him drop it again.

A glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye made him stand up again, and turn toward the short corridor which led to their bedrooms. His mouth dropped open as Dumbledore moved toward him, closing the door to Snape's room.

"What are you . . . where's Severus?"

"Harry . . ." The Headmaster's voice was gentle sounding, but he didn't meet Harry's eyes. "He's resting. There's been a--"

"What happened?!" He'd only been gone a couple hours. What happened to him, and how could it happen here?

Dumbledore shook his head, looking tired. "Voldemort tortured him through the Dark Mark. He sent something more than his usual calling card. It ate away his skin like acid or fire--"

Harry shoved past him, down the hallway and pushed open the door to Severus' room. His guardian lay in bed, eyes closed, breathing shallowly, but undoubtedly alive. His left arm was bandaged from fingertips to elbow, and the right hand was likewise swathed in gauze. The room smelt of antiseptic. "What happened to his hand?" he whispered, not wanting to disturb the man's sleep, though he could hear the panic in his voice.

"He was gripping the Dark Mark with it. His palm and fingers blistered, but there was no permanent nerve damage."

"And his arm? Will he be all right, or is that permanently damaged?"

"I'm not sure, Harry. I did all I could to prevent that."

Oh, God. He seemed to be resting all right now, and there wasn't anything more Harry could do for him in any case. He didn't know any Healing magic. But the whole thing was odd, and he felt strangely disconnected, almost like shock. Okay, think. He just had to think. "Have you given him a Nerve Regenerator?"

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore said, faintly chiding. "I'm nearly as competent as Madam Pomfrey in the business of tending wounds."

"Sorry," Harry said. "Is he going to be all right?"

"It's too soon to tell. Once he wakes, we'll have a better idea of whether the damage can be healed completely."

Harry nodded. Was Voldemort trying to kill Snape through the Mark? If so, why hadn't he done so before? Why tonight? And if he wasn't, why had it been so bad this time? Harry knew that Snape had been hurt through the Mark a few times since they'd escaped from that horrid manor, now that Voldemort knew the truth about Snape's spying. It usually happened at night, and put Snape in a grouchy mood, but the man was generally able to handle it. So why had this time been different?

"What changed?" he murmured.

"Hmm?"

Harry startled, having forgotten that Dumbledore was still there. "I was just wondering why he attacked like this now. I wondered what changed."

"A very good question, Harry. Why don't you let Severus rest for now, and we can try to figure that out over some tea."

Shaking his head, Harry said, "No, it's all right. I want to be here, when he wakes up."

"That may be a while yet," Dumbledore said. "I had to give him some fairly strong pain relief potions."

"How long then, do you think?"

"I should say he will sleep until morning. Hopefully longer than that, as it will give his arm a good chance to heal."

Something was . . . off in the Headmaster's voice, but Harry wasn't sure what it was. Whatever it was sent a chill up his spine. "Still, I think I'll just keep an eye on him. He might wake early, and then I can help him test out his arm and stuff."

"As you will, Harry." He patted Harry on the back, making Harry jump half a foot. He knew Dumbledore wouldn't hurt him, but he still didn't like being touched unexpectedly, and never from behind. "My apologies, Harry. I will return to my quarters, but you may Floo me if you require anything. The potions you might need to give him are on the table there."

"Thanks," Harry said, distracted already. "I'll call if I need you."

Dumbledore nodded and left the room, and Harry waited until he heard the green rush of fire from the Floo in the sitting room before he traced the Headmaster's steps. He was not surprised to find the teacups and tea pot gone, as well as the spill on the rug. What the hell was going on?

He went back to Snape's room, and watched the man sleep for a little while, at least until Snape started thrashing in his bed and moaning, as if he were having nightmares. Harry tried to wake him, but could not, only succeeding in getting him out of the nightmare state so he was sleeping, not easily, for there was lots of movement behind his eyelids, but heavily at least.

Something weird was going on with the Headmaster, and Harry didn't like it, nor the implications. He was almost positive there was something more wrong with Snape than Dumbledore was letting on. And this sleep Snape was under didn't seem to be doing him any good. Harry didn't dare unwrap the bandaged arm to make sure he had actually been hurt that way -- not really wanting to see such damaged flesh -- but as the night wore on, he wondered again why and how Voldemort had attacked like this.

By morning, he'd decided the only way he was going to find out was by waking Snape. And then, no matter what he tried, he couldn't.

End Flashback