His left arm hurt.

Severus became aware of the Dark Mark burning as he cast Scarpin's Revelaspell over the cauldron containing the vial of Potter's blood. He had set the cauldron on a small table close to the bed, not daring to leave the boy's side to go into his laboratory to work. The gashes on Potter's arms could start to bleed again at any time, and if they did, someone needed to perform healing spells on him right away. As much blood as he'd already lost, Potter could bleed to death within minutes.

Fortunately, Potter was still for now, and Severus was hurrying to prepare an antidote for him. He didn't have time to deal with the Dark Mark. Forcing the pain from his mind, he frowned down at the cauldron as the poison separated into various ingredients. He summoned more vials from his office and began filling them, muttering to himself as he identified the components.

"Corncockle, grayanotoxins, Viper's bugloss, and mmm, what's this?" He stared at the last vial, filled with a thin black substance. It looked a bit like ground bracken roots, but was odorless.

Severus was even able to temporarily forget the burning Dark Mark as he contemplated the final ingredient. He was one of the foremost Potions Masters in Europe and it wasn't very often that he was puzzled by his field of study. But he did not have a clue what the vial held. And he could not brew an antidote, or even give Potter a much-needed blood-replenishing potion until he figured it out.

Severus scowled at the unconscious figure on his bed, but he couldn't work up any real animosity towards the boy. Not now. He didn't mind a bit seeing Potter angry and humiliated. It was no more than the brat deserved, but he hadn't deserved this kind of treatment. No one did. Except perhaps for Voldemort himself and a few of his particularly sadistic followers.

Severus didn't like knowing the boy had been tortured almost to the point of death, possibly into insanity. He didn't like seeing his thin face so wan and deadly pale, or his chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath. He didn't like seeing the bandages on Potter's arms and remembering the deep cursed slashes underneath. He didn't like knowing that poison was coursing through the boy's veins, doing all kinds of damage to his already dangerously fragile body.

Most of all, he didn't like feeling helpless to do anything about it.

A soft knock sounded on the already open bedroom door and he looked up to see Minerva and Fleur Delacour, of all people, standing there. For an instant Severus was surprised. Then he remembered that all the rescue party had heard the password for his quarters.

"What?" He spoke brusquely.

"I haven't been able to reach Poppy yet, but I'll keep trying," Minerva replied quietly. "How is he?"

"The same," Severus answered in terse, clipped tones. "It's a unique poison, an unusual blend of ingredients, and I can't identify one of them. Without knowing what it is, I don't know what to do."

He levitated the glass tubes holding the poisonous ingredients and accidently jostled his left arm slightly as he did so. He could not hold back a gasp of pain. The Mark was burning fiercely by now.

Minerva started to say something, but Severus cut her off. "I can bear it. The most important thing is to figure this out."

"What about giving ‘im a bezoar?" Fleur Delacour asked. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped close to the work table and began examining the vials.

Severus raised his eyebrows at her temerity, but his fear over Potter's condition and the effort of controlling his own pain made him decide to focus on the pressing matters.

"I'm considering it," he told her. "Without knowing that ingredient, though, even a bezoar is risky, and it may not work. They don't counteract everything." He swallowed hard and carefully wiped sweat from his brow with his right hand.

"Yes, yew extract, for example," Fleur said, as if Severus hadn't learned that before leaving Hogwarts. Still, it was more than many wizards knew. She studied the mysterious substance, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "Eet looks like roots of the bracken, but without the characteristic minty scent. A hybrid, per'aps?"

In spite of the pain, which was almost blinding, Severus had to admire her brain. "Perhaps," he conceded in a rough voice. "But it will take time to test and I don't think we have that time."

They all glanced back at Potter and Minerva gave a sharp cry of alarm, for his arms were bleeding again. She and Severus frantically sprang to the bed, grabbing for their wands and running through the strongest healing spells they knew.

There were several long tense moments as they waited to see that the bleeding had stopped and that Potter was still alive. Then Minerva sank into a nearby chair, almost as pale as the boy.

She looked at Severus, who had slumped against the wall. "How risky is the bezoar, Severus? We may not have much choice."

"Risky enough," Severus fought through the pain to consider. "An unknown ingredient-who knows how it could react? On the other hand, bezoars do cure most poisons, so it may be our best chance."

He looked back at Potter. They had to do something soon; that was obvious. Without a blood-replenishing potion, Potter would likely die the next time his wounds bled, and any movement could start the bleeding. Even emotional agitation could cause them to bleed.

And too, the poison had likely caused internal injuries, which could bleed and which needed to be healed as soon as possible. Minerva was right. Giving Potter a bezoar was the only real option they had right now.

Severus made the decision abruptly. He stood away from the wall, angry with himself for showing weakness even if he was in agony, and started to go to his laboratory, when he staggered and almost fell.

Fleur raised her wand. "Accio bezoar!"

The tiny shriveled stone soared through the air, and Severus grabbed it as it flew past. He had already risked everything for Potter. He would be the one to give him the bezoar, and the boy's life or death would be on his own head.

He thrust the bezoar into Potter's mouth and forced him to swallow. They all held their breath for a long moment. Then Minerva performed another diagnostic spell and looked at them with a tremulous smile.

"It worked. The poison's gone."

Fleur beamed with joy, but Severus knew the situation was still critical.

"Blood-replenisher," he whispered.

Minerva quickly Summoned the potion from Severus' storeroom, held the jar to Potter's lips, and carefully tipped it down his throat. A few minutes more and his color improved. He was still pale, but not as much.

After another diagnostic spell, Minerva said quietly, "It looks like the poison has damaged some of Harry's internal organs. They're serious wounds, but not life-threatening yet." She turned to Severus, and pointed to the chair she had sat in earlier. "Sit."

Severus glowered weakly at her, but had no energy to argue. He sat.

"Now, I know you have something for the pain, Severus. What is it and where do you keep it?"

He could barely get the words out. The pain was so overwhelming. "Brown jar, shelf in my storeroom."

Since it was difficult to Summon an object without knowing specifically what it was, Fleur glided off to the storeroom and returned a few minutes later carrying the jar containing the special Healing Salve Severus had developed. It was much stronger than any other Healing product, and while it could not completely take away the agony of the Dark Mark, it did reduce it to a barely noticeable ache.

Severus tried to reach for the jar himself, but Minerva took it from Fleur with a murmured thanks. Calmly ignoring Severus' half-hearted protests, she rolled up his left sleeve and rubbed the salve on the ugly tattoo that would never go away. She Summoned bandages and proceeded to wrap his arm as carefully as they had Potter's earlier.

The salve worked instantly, and Severus breathed deeply in relief. Then he glared furiously at Minerva. Above all else, he hated appearing weak and helpless.

She smiled archly back at him. "You're welcome, Severus."

He huffed and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get to work. Potter will need more Blood-Replenishing Potion, and something for those internal injuries, and then I can start trying to heal those blasted cuts on his arms."

Fleur cleared her throat. "Actually, Professor, that ez why I came down ‘ere. I would very much like to ‘elp you brew potions."

Before Severus could snap at her, Minerva added, "The idea does have merit, Severus. You will need to sleep at some point, and Miss Delacour could help keep an eye on Harry."

Much as he hated to admit it, Minerva did have a valid point. Severus was already tired. He'd been running on adrenaline, but now it was fading, and the four or five hours of sleep he had gotten earlier was not nearly enough to make up for the days of lost rest.

And someone did need to keep a close watch on Potter for the present. If someone else were here, Severus could concentrate on his brewing and hopefully ignore Potter as much as possible.

And yet, trusting someone else with his responsibilities had led to this crisis in the first place. He was not inclined to repeat that mistake.

As if she guessed his thoughts, Fleur spoke up. "I am qualified, Professor. I received top scores on my A.B.E.I.L.L.E.S., tests like your N.E.W.T.S., and I was offered an apprenticeship at l'Institute de l'Elixirs in Paris."

Severus was impressed in spite of himself. L'Institute de l'Elixirs was known as one of the most rigorous Potions Mastery courses in the world. Severus had been accepted there as an apprentice years ago, but had chosen to study at another prestigious institute in Germany instead. Still, he had high regard for the French school, and if Delacour had been accepted there, she must know what she was doing.

He studied her, reminding himself that it would never do to dismiss her as just a pretty face. She had been her school's champion in the Triwizard Tournament, after all.

"Brew me a Replenishing Potion, and I'll decide if it's acceptable," he finally growled.

She smiled as if he had paid her a compliment and disappeared into the laboratory.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Minerva asked.

"Leave me in peace."

"Very well. The others are anxious to hear how Harry's doing, anyway." She went over to Potter and, to Severus' amazement, she kissed his forehead as Molly Weasley had done.

Once Minerva had left, Severus gazed in wonder at Potter. What was it about the boy? Why was every other adult wrapped around his little finger? Why was Severus the only one who could see Potter's true colours?

***

The next few days passed without any major setbacks. Potter's condition improved slightly, though it would be weeks before he was fully healed. Fleur proved quite competent and was a valuable help to Severus, though he didn't tell her so. He allowed her to take over brewing Blood-Replenishing potions while he concentrated on the specialized salves needed to heal the cursed marks on Potter's arms and the medicines for healing his internal injuries.

Potter had to take the Replenishing Potion every few hours for the first couple of days. Then his blood levels rose to an acceptable level, except when his arms bled again. It was no longer critical when this happened, now that the boy had enough blood that he wasn't about to die, but Severus or Minerva did need to be nearby to stop the bleeding. Unfortunately, the specialized salves needed to brew for three weeks before Severus could add the thickening agent to turn the liquid potions into salves, and then another three weeks before they were ready to use.

Fortunately, the potions to heal his internal injuries did not take as long to make, but they were slow-acting, so it would take time before those wounds healed as well.

Most concerning now was the fact that Potter was still unconscious and they didn't know if his mind had been damaged by the torture he'd suffered. But none of them dared talk much about that possibility.

July 31st came and went. Against his will, Severus reluctantly allowed the Weasley clan and Granger to come back and visit Potter. They were all still staying at Hogwarts, but the one advantage in caring so intensively for Potter was that Severus had been able to stay in his own quarters and avoid them. Minerva kept them updated on their friend's condition and told him several times that they were eager to visit, but Severus had put them off until the morning of the 31st, when they showed up and begged to see Potter, even for a few minutes.

"It's his birthday, Severus," Molly Weasley wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "And I had planned such a party...But at least we can see him and spend a little time with him."

"There's no point in it, though," Severus grumbled. "Potter's unconscious. He won't even know you're here."

"But we know," Arthur said.

At the same time Granger piped up, "He might, Professor. There've been studies that prove comatose patients are sometimes aware..."

"Spare me the blathering, Granger," Severus stepped aside and grudgingly motioned them in. "You can't stay long."

He was afraid he would have to witness their emotional outpourings of affection, but he was spared by the sudden appearance of Albus Dumbledore hurrying down the stone corridor towards Severus' rooms, Minerva close behind.

About bloody time! He thought to himself.

"Severus, how is Harry?" Albus was normally so calm. It was odd to hear the anxiety in his voice and see fear in his bright blue eyes.

"Physically, he is recovering, but it will be a long convalescence," Severus told him. "Mentally, we still don't know."

It was a sign of his great concern that Albus did not pause to ask permission to enter, but rushed right on into the bedroom to see the boy for himself.

After examining Potter, Albus rested his good hand on the boy's shoulder. "Poor child." His voice was infinitely sad. "How many times does he have to pay for my mistakes?"

But then he straightened and sounded more like himself. "If the others would be so kind as to stay with Harry a while, I'd like to speak with you alone, Severus. Perhaps in my office?"

Severus nodded, unable to meet the headmaster's eyes. It was his fault Potter was in this shape, and Albus was right to be upset with him. He showed them the jar containing Floo powder on the fireplace mantel so they could get in touch if Potter's condition changed, and then he and Albus left.

They were silent until they had reached the office. When the door closed behind them, Severus burst out, "I accept all the blame. I knew Fletcher was worthless and still I-"

"Severus," Albus laid a hand on his shoulder. "I did not bring you here for reprimands. And it is not your fault."

Severus did not answer, but remained still and bowed his head. Albus was one of the very few people whose good opinion he valued, and the only one he ever allowed, even rarely, to offer a comforting touch.

"You had no choice but to use Mundungus," Albus spoke gently. "You had to rest. It was too much for one person alone to keep watch so long. I should've returned earlier, but my project is crucial to Voldemort's defeat, and I truly believed things would be fine. I did not believe anyone outside of the Order knew Harry was at the Burrow, and I'm still not sure why the wards failed. They should have been able to Apparate out before the Death Eaters could capture Harry."

"Potter was outside alone, right at the edge of the wards," Severus explained quietly. He made himself move away from the warmth of Albus' hand and sat down in an armchair by the desk. "I don't know how they knew he was there."

Albus sat opposite him. "Minerva gave me the gist of what happened, but perhaps you could tell me in more detail?" So Severus told him everything that had happened and they discussed Potter's condition for over an hour.

"A unique blend of poisons," Albus mused. "And you haven't been able to figure out one of the ingredients?"

"That's right. Although I haven't been able to devote as much time to the issue as I'd like, what with brewing things for Potter at all hours of the day and night."

And Voldemort didn't have you develop this poison?" Albus questioned sharply.

That thought had already occurred to Severus. He met the headmaster's gaze. "No."

They considered the implications. If Voldemort had not called upon his trusted Potions Master to come up with a new creation, perhaps that Potions Master wasn't so trusted after all. And if Voldemort did not trust someone's loyalties, that person tended to die young.

"You realize, Severus, that in saving Harry's life, you might well have saved your own, too," Albus commented.

"It does seem as if my days of spying were numbered," Severus agreed. He gave Albus a shrewd look. ""To change the subject, Albus, I noticed something curious about Potter just this morning."

"You did?"

"Yes. There are scars across his back. Obviously from old wounds. Since you did away with corporal punishment on becoming headmaster, I doubt Potter received those scars at Hogwarts. None of the professors here would do anything like that, anyway. Not even I."

"Of course you wouldn't do anything like that, Severus," Albus scolded him gently. "You are a better person than you give yourself credit for, you know."

Severus waved a dismissive hand at that notion. "Potter's scars?"

Albus was silent for so long that Severus had decided he wasn't going to answer when he finally spoke. "Perhaps it would be better if you knew. Harry's relatives are not very kind to him."

If Albus Dumbledore had announced plans to leave Hogwarts and become a tap dancer, Severus would not have been more shocked.

"Not very kind?" He demanded. "You don't mean--, they did that? But, but..."

"I've always told you that you were mistaken about Harry," Albus said. "He is not arrogant or spoiled, Severus. Far from it. He's had a very difficult life from the time he was a toddler."

It was more than Severus could take in. Potter could not possibly be a mistreated child. He was pampered and adored by practically everyone. It was obvious. Albus must be wrong. But he had seen the scars with his own eyes.

A thought occurred to him and he looked up. "You knew? And you let him stay there?"

He'd never seen such a look of grief on his mentor's face. "There is a reason, Severus. I don't like it, but it had to be."

"What possible reason could there be?" Severus demanded. "You stood up to my father, Albus. You kept me here during the summers before I was of age. Why not Potter?"

"Why, Severus, you sound concerned for Harry. Protective, almost," Albus raised his eyebrows.

It had the desired effect. Severus scowled and headed for the door. "It will be a cold day in hell before the Potter brat worms his way into my heart, Albus. If you'll excuse me."

"Severus, you must never use that information to taunt Harry."

He allowed Albus to see the fury, but not the hurt, his words caused. "In one breath, you commend me, and in the next, you accuse. I assure you, Albus, I'm quite aware that child abuse is a serious matter. Now, I have a potion to brew."