Severus read through the letter again. It wasn’t that he didn’t want an artificial eye—he very much did—but why the man couldn’t have held off another two days, let things settle down a little…perhaps even let him get more than four hours of sleep just once this week. Because that would make my life easier, obviously. He could, of course, decline to answer the letter immediately, but he knew full well that his own personality wouldn’t let him just leave it sitting on his bedside table for more than a few hours. At least not unless another crisis occurred, and if that happened he was officially resigning and going back to Brazil.

He rubbed his forehead and waved a quill and parchment over. A few hours more or less wouldn’t make a great deal of difference…if nothing else, he could always pick and owl that flew slowly.

He was trying to find a polite way to phrase ‘and exactly how many of my remaining limbs is this going to cost?’—he would, of course, have access to some Order funds, but realistically they weren’t overburdened with wealth and at least a portion of the funding was going to have to come out of his savings as it had with the clamp—when a chime from the outer room indicated that he had a visitor. Specifically a student visitor. “What now?”

There was a knock on his room door as he was getting to his feet, and he waved it open.

“Professor?” Harry asked.

“Yes, what?” He really did not want to deal with the brat at the moment. He didn’t trust either of their tempers.

“Professor Dumbledore sent Luna to find me.” He indicated the blonde, just barely visible over his shoulder. She smiled brightly and waved at Severus. “We’re all supposed to go to his office to hear more about our punishment….I guess he and Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick worked out what chores we’ll be assigned to for the rest of the year.”

“Go on then, I’d certainly hate for you to miss that.”

Harry opened his mouth, presumably to say something else, but then closed it again and disappeared back through the door. Severus heard the outer door shut a moment later and returned his attention to his parchment. No doubt there was a better way to phrase that question, but it wasn’t coming to him at the moment. At least this way his meaning would be clear.

He frowned, considering for a moment. Teaching wasn’t the most well-compensated of professions, and his Gringotts vault was hardly overflowing, but he hadn’t had to contribute as much as he’d feared to replace his arm. There should still be more than enough left for a new eye. And assuming he ever got around to writing up his study on the wyrsa venom antidote…well, a journal publication or two would help offset the costs nicely.

After a minute of consideration, he set the parchment aside and went to check his workroom. He had made rough notes; given a few days of peace and quiet—or a few months, given the way his life normally went—he could have them in reasonable shape for submission. In fact, if he set up the first of the base tests this afternoon…. He didn’t have much of the serum left, but the standard tests didn’t require more than a drop, and some of the more tradition-bound journals insisted upon them. Besides, he was always better at getting articles finished once he’d officially started.

He checked underneath the bandage on his hand and was pleased to discover that the cuts had scabbed over. No doubt Poppy would disagree, but he didn’t think it would hinder him if he started now, and he flicked his want to dispose of the bandage.

The liquid in the cauldron was just coming to a boil when another chime sounded—the one for a professor, this time—and he set the cauldron aside with a sigh and headed into his main room to wave the panel open. It was most likely Minerva or Albus coming to inform him of how Harry and the rest of the idiots’ upcoming punishment would affect his schedule. He was bound to end up overseeing at least a few detentions or something of that sort, that was a given. Although Merlin forbid one of them actually ask me first.

Much to his surprise—and dismay—Poppy came in as soon as the panel opened, a woman somewhere in her mid to late thirties following. “Severus, good, I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“Of course not.” At some point I’m going to put a spy-spell on that door so I can see who it is before I open it. At least she hadn’t immediately launched into a tirade about him not being in bed resting, although he was fairly certain that he was in for a lecture when she noticed the lack of a bandage on his hand. He pulled the sleeve of his robe down a bit to cover it.

She smiled. “Good. We passed Mr. Potter on the stairs….”

Was she completely oblivious to sarcasm? He wouldn’t have believed that that was possible, but he was starting to wonder. “The headmaster summoned him. Can I help the two of you with something?” Either the woman needed a particularly unusual healing potion, or she was Poppy’s next contestant in the who-can-drive-Severus-insane-first competition. He wasn’t holding out much hope for the former.

“This is Healer Belinda McNally, visiting from Edinburgh. She’s one of Scotland’s foremost experts on treating trauma victims and runs a therapy group twice a week from her office. Belinda, Severus Snape.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” the woman greeted.

“And you as well,” Severus returned, in a tone that any reasonable person would have understood meant the exact opposite. So help me, if you don’t go with Poppy when she leaves, I’m going to murder you and dump your body in the lake for the squid. Unfortunately, neither of his visitors appeared to be reasonable.

“I called for the house elves to bring you tea,” Poppy said. “I thought the two of you might like to get acquainted.”

Or, possibly, I might feed you both to the squid.

“Minee is bringing tea,” a house elf announced, popping in with a tea set.

Poppy put her hands on her hips when he made no move to act the polite host, and Severus ground his teeth and waved for the woman to take a seat at the table.

“I’ll be going, then,” Poppy said with a smile. “Severus, if you could see her to my office when you’re finished?”

“But of course.” He was, however, making no guarantee that the woman would arrive there in one piece.

* * * * *

Severus flexed his fingers—and his clamp—against the couch cushions and tried to force himself to relax. In deference to the mediwitch, or at least in deference to the fact that he didn’t care for another lecture in the middle of an open corridor with Merlin-knew-who lurking about, he had attempted to cooperate with the trauma specialist. He had. He’d been a bit surprised to learn that she was a Muggle, but then again perhaps Poppy was running short of witches and wizards to whom she could subject him.

Regardless, he’d nodded politely and when the woman had described confrontational therapy—as though he needed to be confronted with what he’d lost—and refrained from crushing his tea cup when she had described the positive effects a support group could have on those recovering from trauma. He even managed to keep from verbally eviscerating her while pointing out that he couldn’t actually belong to the group she ran, seeing as he would have to reveal the Wizarding world and the war going on under their noses to a group of random Muggles. Apparently unstable Muggles at that.

He had, however, become a bit short when she’d moved on to the idea of role playing. How in the bloody hell a child’s game of pretend was supposed to help him deal with his reaction to a near-death experience regarding the Dark Lord, he hadn’t a clue. Not to mention that it wouldn’t precisely be healthy for anyone else involved either. He nodded to an imaginary therapist. Yes, excuse me while I pretend that you are the Dark Lord. Oh, dear, did I just blast apart your entire torso? My mistake. I’ll be sure to send my condolences to your next of kin.

Perhaps such a thing wasn’t an issue with Muggles, but it seemed ridiculous that someone who obviously had at least passing familiarity with the Wizarding world would have overlooked such an obvious danger. He’d already nearly taken down someone that even he acknowledged—although certainly not to his face—was one of the best fighters their side had to offer during a flashback; how she thought that she might survive such an encounter he had no idea.

I wonder, is it a requirement for those going into the profession of mindhealer to be insane themselves, or am I just particularly fortunate? Either way, things had gone downhill rapidly from that point on, and she’d left in a huff insisting that she was perfectly capable of finding her way back to the hospital wing on her own. And that she had absolutely no desire to spend any more time in his company, a feeling which was entirely mutual, although he had summoned a house elf to escort her. If nothing else, forcing her to endure one of the obnoxious creatures was some small revenge. Very small, but….

He was rising to go back into his workroom when the door chimed for a professor a second time. Could Poppy have made her way down here this quickly? He didn’t think so—the woman had left only minutes before and surely she hadn’t run the entire way; even his students didn’t leave their detentions in that much of a hurry—but…. “What?!”

“Severus?” Minerva asked, stepping in with her eyebrows raised. “And good day to you to. I do believe you’re in a worse mood than the young woman I just ran into.”

“You have no idea.” At least by the end of their little session she had been well-convinced that helping him was a lost cause. “What do you want?”

“I’ve only got a few minutes before my next class—enough students have already had a holiday today while Albus and Filius and I were speaking—but I wanted to talk to you about Harry. I know he’s supposed to have an Occlumency lesson with you this evening, but tonight is going to be the first of the children’s mass detentions and I was hoping that you could reschedule.”

Was it an Occlumency day? Severus shook his head. “As you please.” Harry was going to have to continue to work on his Occlumency, especially now that the Dark Lord knew he could possess the boy with enough effort—and, Severus hoped, reasonably close physical proximity—but one day more or less wouldn’t make that much of a difference either way. And Severus wouldn’t object to a few extra hours to himself. In fact, given the last conversation that he and Harry had had, it was just as well that they both had time to calm down a little. He didn’t need a head injury on top of the cut on his hand and a leg that still ached faintly.

“Thank you.”

“What chores were he and the rest of the little lunatics assigned, anyway?”

“For the moment, they’ll be cleaning the attics and occasionally helping Filch organize and recopy files. Filch is going to explain that portion tonight, which is why I wanted Harry to be there as well.”

“Hm.” It was actually a somewhat reasonable way to keep them occupied and out of trouble. Not that he expected it to work, but then, given the students in question, he had doubts that anything would.

Minerva nodded, apparently considering the matter closed, and then gestured towards the tea tray still sitting on the table and gave the sort of smile that always made him slightly nervous. “Can I assume that the woman who was visiting was a…special friend? Here I thought you were a confirmed bachelor.”

“Bite your tongue.” He considered leaving it there, but knowing Minerva she’d probably just continue to make ridiculous suggestions until he gave in and told her who the woman had actually been. Or, worse, disbelieve him and make vague references to his ‘special friend’ for the foreseeable future, no doubt involving some of the rest of the faculty as she went. Obnoxious feline. “She was a Muggle trauma specialist; the latest in Poppy’s attempts to save me from myself.”

“Ah.”

At least Minerva wasn’t one to offer ridiculous platitudes about how talking about what had happened would make him feel better. What was done was done; there was no sense in continually revisiting it. No matter what Poppy seems to think.

“What about Alastor?”

“Excuse me?” Well, he hadn’t thought she was going to say anything particularly ridiculous, but somehow he didn’t think the addition of the lunatic ex-Auror to the conversation was going to improve the tone.

“Why don’t you talk to him? I suspect that would satisfy Poppy.” Apparently he looked as stunned by that suggestion as he felt, because she frowned at him. “Well, why not? You talked to him before.”

His jaw worked for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” So help him, if they’d had a bloody audience last night….

She frowned. “Back when you were first injured, after we spoke about setting up a meeting with the Horace girl. Remember, you asked me if I’d known him before he’d been injured?”

“Oh. Yes.”He still found the memory of that conversation—if you could even call it that—more than a bit humiliating, though, and his glare deepened. “Alastor and I don’t ‘talk.’ In fact, in case you haven’t noticed, the vast majority of the time we avoid each other’s company, and when we do happen to meet, it generally ends in an exchange of insults and threats.” And the occasional hex, when the opportunity arose, although he had no plans to let things go as far as they had during their last duel again. Well, not while we’re at war, anyway.

She shook her head. “I’m not suggesting that the two of you become best friends, but you must admit that he’s…uniquely qualified…to understand the situation that you’ve found yourself in.”

Severus gave a disgusted snort. He didn’t have to admit anything of the sort. Especially since Alastor had acquired his injuries during the course of a respectably long career rather than having them all inflicted upon him in one single night of torture. “As it happens, I’m quite satisfied with the arrangement we have now, and I have no great desire to alter it substantially. I expect that he feels very much the same.”

“Hm.”

Severus didn’t like the look in her eyes at all, but, knowing Minerva, if he tried to press the point it would only make her more determined to convince him. Ruddy Gryffindor.

She nodded politely, apparently deciding that the conversation was at an end. “Well, thank you for letting us steal Harry tonigh—what happened to your hand?”

Her eyes narrowed as Severus lifted his hand and realized that he’d stretched one of the scabs too far and his palm was bleeding again. Blood on the couch, just brilliant.

Her frown deepened. “Did that happen on your…errand…this morning?”

He dabbed the blood against his robes. “A minor incident upon my return; nothing of consequence.” She’d hear about the Dark Lord’s appearance at the Perth Floo Station soon enough, and he’d just as soon give his report about Narcissa and Draco’s flight to the Order as a whole rather than repeating himself multiple times. Good day.”

“Good day,” she returned after a moment and then turned for the door.

For his part, he strongly suspected that the day was probably going to end on a less-than-pleasant note, at least after Poppy found out about the results of the latest therapy session, but…well, no sense worrying about that now.

* * * * *

Severus yawned as he let himself back into his quarters. He’d managed to avoid a lecture from Poppy, but only because he’d been at an Order meeting. Poppy might actually have been more relaxing.

He’d been in the middle of brewing when the alarm had sounded, and after a moment of panic—what else could possibly have gone wrong?—realized that it was only a call for a meeting. After soundly cursing Albus for not bothering to warn him, he’d taken some time to get his cauldrons in a state that he could leave them alone and be reasonably certain that his workroom would be intact when he returned, thus making him the last to arrive at headquarters. Albus had been finishing a summary of the events at the Department of Mysteries—apparently for the edification of those who had been living under a rock for the past two days—when he arrived. He wished he’d been later; then he might have missed Molly Weasley’s hysterics about what the youngest of her brood had been up to. Arthur hadn’t looked much better, in truth.

Shacklebolt had spoken next, listing the Deatheaters caught. Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange were two of the more prominent names. Unfortunately, at least from the standpoint of information gathering, Rudolphus had been one of the ones killed in the fighting, and, as Severus was well aware, Bellatrix had managed to get away. Still, the interrogations of the rest were already in progress…Fudge was, as usual, making a mess of things, but most of the Auror department was quite happy to ignore him.

Alastor had then suggested bringing all of the captured Deatheaters’ families in for questioning, which had led to Severus’ announcement about Narcissa and Draco’s flight from England. And a near-duel with Alastor who hadn’t appreciated how he’d handled the situation. He snickered quietly. It had been more than worth any annoyance he’d felt to see Minerva jabbing the ex-Auror in the chest repeatedly with her wand and calling him a war-mongering would-be child abductor. No one could claim that she took her duty to protect their students lightly, although Severus suspected that Albus’ personal inclinations were more in line with Alastor’s. Particularly with regards to the Malfoy family.

He sank down on the couch and pulled the piece of parchment Narcissa had given him out of his pocket. He’d originally intended to mention it at the Order meeting, but Alastor would probably have insisted that they put it in a jar of Veritiserum or something equally idiotic. He’d report it to Albus privately tomorrow, after he’d examined it himself.

‘Lucius’ was written on the front of the folded parchment in Narcissa’s flowing script, but after a quick check for protective spells, he opened it. She had to have known that he would.