“Severus, wake up.” Severus knew that voice. He obeyed instantly. Dumbledore was sitting at the edge of Severus’ bed. A deep frown line replaced the usual benign smile. Despite the fact that it was now the wee hours of the morning, the Headmaster was wearing a travelling cloak  - black opposed to his usual flamboyant coloured one – over somber robes. Clearly, he was still very much on the run.

“You shouldn’t be here Professor,” Severus said. It came out a little more sharply than he intended it to, but he was not going to have Dumbledore risk being sent to Azkaban just so the man could stare pityingly at Severus from his bedside.  Severus moved to sit up but Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on his arm that clearly told Severus he was not to move.

“My shields weren’t broken.” Severus continued, uneasy at Dumbledore’s silent, penetrating examination. Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed, as though Severus’ comment had deeply hurt him. His hand remained, warm and heavy, on Severus’ arm.

“I’m not worried about that right now my dear boy.” Dumbledore said softly. “I’m worried about you.” Dumbledore gave Severus a look that was so piercingly intense that Severus, for a moment, felt like Dumbledore was about to perform legilimency on him. He didn’t. He just stared. Severus knew that Dumbledore was trying to gauge how pathetic, weak and frightened Voldemort had left him. To see if this was the time Voldemort broke him.

“I’m fine Headmaster.” Severus said in a voice quite foreign to his own. Dumbledore looked at Severus and opened his mouth as if to speak. He closed it, and looked towards the enchanted window in Severus’ room that was starting to shift from black to dusky grey.

“Alright.” He withdrew his hand from Severus’ arm. Severus hadn’t realized that the headmaster had been covering the Dark Mark with his hand until he removed it. He wondered if it was intentional.

“Can you me what happened?” Dumbledore asked, his tone more businesslike. Severus ran a tired hand across his face and nodded.

“He only summoned me. He no longer trusts me. Not completely.” Severus said softly, facing Dumbledore again. “Potters Occlumency skills have made him suspicious.” He found himself unable to look at the Headmaster. He tried to force away the intruding memory of Voldemort slashing his stomach, the agony of the Cruciatus curse, the feeling of fear when he felt his hold on his mind slip perilously.

It was lucky the comforting thought his mind reached for this time was Lily. What if next time it was a memory of one of the few times he had indulged in Dumbledore’s comfort, or had sunk into a chair at Grimmauld Place, hating the company but feeling safe and so relieved to be somewhere so well hidden from Voldemort. This was why Severus was all too happy to push away Arthur’s attempts at friendship and Albus’ invitations for tea. The memories of comfort, of safety and compassion were the memories any mind would grab for in the face of overwhelming fear. Thus, they were harder to keep locked under his shields when he was with Voldemort. The less compassion he had in his life, the better.

“I don’t like the look of that thought you are thinking,” Dumbledore said gently, breaking Severus out of his reverie. Severus dared to look back at the headmaster. His eyes were soft, warm, paternal even. Severus had seen that look on Dumbledore’s face before. He craved and hated that look in equal measure. He craved how loved and safe it made him feel and hated that it made him feel that way. He never knew how to respond appropriately. His own father had never looked at him like that growing up. Severus looked away.

“He says he will test me.” Severus said, barely at a whisper. For a wild moment he considered mentioning the crazed look of mingled vehemence and ecstasy on Voldemort’s face when he made the threat. But he didn’t need to. Dumbledore knew Voldemort’s psychopathy and knew that Severus could barely put one foot in front of the other some days out of fear. As if to confirm his understanding, Dumbledore placed his hand back on Severus’ arm, again on top of the Dark Mark.

“Something to worry about at a later date I think.” Dumbledore responded. The warm hand on his cold arm seemed to give Severus a second wind.

“He promised to discover my true loyalty.” Severus nodded towards his useless rubber glove of an arm. “This was to be a warning to you.” Dumbledore looked taken aback then stared at Severus’ arm, a dangerous fury replaced the warm concern in Dumbledore’s eye.

“This was to be a warning to me?” Dumbledore asked, gingerly picking up Severus’ disgusting facsimile of an arm. He examined it closely then closed his eyes and whispered something.

“Oi what that hell!” Came Sirius’ sleepy, startled voice from the living room. Severus looked urgently at Dumbledore, who just chuckled to himself. Sirius opened the door looking slightly put out. Fawkes was sitting on his shoulder nipping at Sirius’ ear affectionately.

“Your bird, sir.” Sirius said with an air of great disgruntlement. The phoenix took off with a soft trill and flew to Dumbledore’s hand.

“Ah Sirius. I knew Fawkes would be fond of you.” Dumbledore said stroking the birds back. “He has always rather fond of wizard’s with healing powers.” Sirius blushed furiously and scratched at his head, taken off-guard by the compliment.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” Sirius said, closing the door. With a gentle nudge from Dumbledore, Fawkes waddled up to Severus arm and observed it for a moment.

“Professor the Skle-Grow is just as effective.” Severus protested as the bird laid his head on Severus’ arm. A warm, wet tear fell on to his arm. Severus didn’t know why he was protesting, but something about Dumbledore’s bird mournfully crying over his arm made him feel tearful and vulnerable.

“I won’t have this injury cause you anymore pain Severus.” Dumbledore replied firmly. The phoenix tears were incredible. In moments, his arm had returned to its normal, bone-filled state. Severus wriggled his fingers and gave the bird a little pat in thanks.

The bird gave a soft chirp and glided gracefully over to a lump of blankets on the couch. The lump moved. Potter, Severus realized with horror. He looked up to Dumbledore, whose eyes were positively dancing with amusement.

“Interesting crowd tonight.” Dumbledore said smiling at Severus. Then, before Severus could stop him, Dumbledore pulled the covers up to Severus chin.

“Albus –“ Severus said warningly. But Dumbledore ignored him with a smile and smoothed the covers down, like a parent would with a much-loved toddler. Severus pushed that thought out of his mind.

“I daresay you’re in need of a spot of fussing, not to mention a good rest. I’m going to put you in a dreamless sleep.” Dumbledore said in a tone that left no room for argument. Before Severus could say anything, Dumbledore pointed his wand at Severus’ face and Severus slumped onto the pillow, unconscious. It was a good thing too. He would have been must aggrieved to observe Dumbledore holding his hand firmly, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he watched Severus sleep.

xXx

“Hermione, he’s waking up.” The voice sounded positively petrified at the thought.

“That’s a good thing Ron.” Granger responded, although her own voice held a thread of anxiety. Severus kept his eyes shut. If he was not dreaming and someone had let Potter’s entourage into his quarters, Severus was just going to stay in bed with his eyes firmly shut until he fell back asleep.

“Professor?” Granger said, trying to sound comforting through her nervousness. “He’s still asleep Ron.” She said in an annoyed whisper. “That’s the fifth time. I’m trying to study.”

“Well I’m the one sitting with him aren’t I? It’s my brain that are going to get pickled if he wakes up.” Weasley replied heatedly. Despite himself, Severus had to admit he was slightly amused.

“Oh, go on then. You’re stew is almost done anyways.” Granger said acerbically. At that moment, Severus could smell something deeply unpleasant, like burning socks.

“It’s not a stew.” Weasley said defensively, further away from Severus now. “It’s Healer’s Helper. My mom always made it for us when we were sick.”

Granger gave a derisive sort of snort. From her proximity, Severus could tell she had settled into the god-awful couch beside his bed. For not the first time in the last 24 hours, Severus wished Voldemort had killed him. At least then he’d be spared the awkwardness of this whole situation.

“You think he’s going to be ok, right?” The girl asked. She sounded genuinely nervous and Severus could feel her eyes charging into him.

“Of course he will. We wouldn’t get that lucky.” Weasley replied in a bracing sort of tone that didn’t quite cover the uncertainty in his voice.  

“Ron, don’t joke.” Granger snapped sounding almost, tearful? Oh god. Severus deeply, deeply missed being tortured by Voldemort. And where was Harry? After that all-for-one speech he had been given at midnight, he was a little surprised to wake up without the boy or Sirius. He told himself that the flash of annoyance he felt was not a result of disappointment.

“Professor Snape? Can you hear me?” Granger said, suddenly alert. Severus realized with horror that he had grimaced audibly at the thought of seeing the girl cry. If he woke up, he could send them away, or at least get his female student out of his bedroom. This whole situation was beyond inappropriate. Severus opened his eyes and glared at Granger. She gave him a wary smile. Severus wondered if Harry had described his welcome to her.

“Miss Granger.” Snape said slowly. “Why are you here?” Snape said through gritted teeth, opting for fierce intimidation instead of outright anger. Belatedly, he realized it was hard to be intimidating tucked into bed with a wet washcloth on one’s forehead. He ripped the cloth off immediately.

“Well sir, Sirius is brewing something and Harry needed a few hours to study for our Transfiguration OWL this afternoon.” Granger said, her voice falsely bright. “So Ron and I thought we’d uhm – keep you company?” 

Her jaw tightened but she held his gaze defiantly. She was readying for a fight. Snape found himself too tired to give her one. Harry had slept in his room and, judging by the fact that he hadn’t had to use the washroom all night, Sirius had been taking care of his bladder by magic. His privacy had been so violated in the past few hours that the appearance of these two brats was hardly enough to raise his ire.

“What is that smell?” Severus asked. It was bad enough that the children were in his room. Severus was not going to have them blowing things up. Granger looked like she half wanted to laugh and was half-afraid.

“It’s Healer’s Helper.” Weasley said from the doorway, a proud grin on his freckled face. He held a tray containing a large bowl of – something – and looked remarkably like Molly when she decided someone was underfed. “My mom always makes it when we’re sick. It’ll put you right in an instant.”

The boy carried the tray over and placed it on Severus’ lap, beaming like he had just presented Severus with London’s best treacle tart. Both Severus and Granger peered into the bowl skeptically. It was filled with a sort of grayish broth. If Severus hadn’t known better, he would have sworn the large chunks floating in it were rat brains from his potion’s store. Severus looked up at Weasley, whose grin faltered slightly.

“I couldn’t quite remember the recipe. I’ve never made it before you see,” Weasley explained, going a little red. Granger snorted. Mostly because Severus wanted to see just how badly the boy had screwed up (and not-at-all because he was touched the boy had attempted to make the dish for him) Snape took a small spoonful. Granger grimaced as he swallowed. It tasted worse than it looked. It took all his self-control not to spit it over the bed.

“Water, please Miss Granger.” He chocked out before turning to a rather red-faced Ron. “Mr. Weasley, I have had your mother’s cooking countless times. I assure you, this is not her recipe.”  He gratefully chugged the water the girl handed to him.

“Told you so.” Granger said, turning back to her impressively large stack of study notes, earning a scowl from Weasley.

“I thought it looked off.” The boy admitted, taking the bowl from Snape and sniffing it. He looked a little repulsed. “I’ll just get the house elves to send something up. Do you like chicken soup?” He asked, uncharacteristically obliging. 

 Severus gave a little nod, and the boy left, leaving him alone with Granger again. Severus wished he hadn’t. Even though he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he felt like a creepy old man having a 15-year-old student in his bedroom. The girl, however seemed completely non-pulsed. She kept looking at her parchment, then looking up and seemed to be trying to repeat what she had read. Severus looked down at the mountain of paper beside the girl. Surely she wasn’t attempting to remember all of this information. Severus shifted on the bed and Granger’s eyes jumped from her paper to observe him critically.

“Are you ok sir?” She asked. “Sirius doesn’t want you taking anymore pain potions until he looks in on you.” Severus was going to tell Sirius where to stick it next time he saw him.

“What are you studying?” Severus asked in order to say something that had nothing to do with his physical condition.

“Transfiguration.” The girl responded, still observing him carefully. Severus nodded.

“What are the two essential differences in vanishing animate vs. inanimate objects?” He asked mostly because he was bored, and if he was going to be sitting in this bed with Moe and Curly beside him, they might as well learn something.

“Animate objects require a greater ratio of power-to-size, and the tranfigurer must be able to overpower an animate objects’ desire not to vanish.” She answered automatically. Severus nodded in approval.

They went on like this for a while. Joined by Weasley (“Hermione your not making him test you? He’s ill!). He was far less competent than Granger, but far more entertaining in his answers, which got increasingly rude the more he got wrong. Severus supposed he should have said something about the language but this was an odd-situation, and an odd-day, and he didn’t feel like it. Being able to lecture them on transfiguration took his mind of the burning in his stomach and it wasn’t until the chicken soup came that he thought of something Granger had said earlier.

“Where is Black?” He snapped suddenly over his bowl of soup. The children, who had just started to seem comfortable in his presence, looked up at him with wide-eyes.

“Well, he needed to brew a potion so – “ Severus was on his feet before Granger could finish her answer. His stomach burned, almost forcing him to sit back down, but he batted away the hands that reached out to help him. Clad only in his pajamas (someone must have transfigured his Death Eater robes) he swept down the hall as convincingly as he could whilst being almost doubled-over in pain.

“What are you doing?” Severus snapped from the dungeon doorway. Black was transfigured to look like a third-year and wearing Hogwarts robes, but Severus, who had known Black at that age, recognized him immediately. The image was not endearing. Sirius’ mouth opened in surprise, then he looked equally angry.

“What are you doing out of bed? Sit down.” Sirius said angrily. He pointed his wand at a stool and it transformed into a large armchair. He pushed Severus into it moments later. Severus irritably threw Sirius’ arm off but sat in the chair. He didn’t think his legs would work much longer.

“Stop fussing.” Severus snapped as Sirius moved to check on his stomach. Sirius didn’t listen and batted his hands away.

“Worse than James you are.” Sirius grumbled, peeling back the corner of Severus shirt to look at his stomach. Severus didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just let Sirius poke around his stomach until he nodded, apparently satisfied. 

“And what are you doing wandering around the castle? Your lucky Umbridge doesn’t walk in here and sent you straight to the Dementors.” Severus hissed looking back towards the door.

“Look, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” Sirius pointed at the Marauder’s Map sitting open by the cauldron. Severus grit his teeth resisting the urge to lunge for that godforsaken map and tear it to shreds.

“Clearly, you weren’t watching it very closely if I was able to sneak up on you.” Severus retorted hotly, unsure why he was so annoyed with Black’s antics.

“Aw, are you worrying about me Snapey?”

“What did you just call me?” Severus snapped back waspishly. Sirius grinned. 

“I made you this.” Sirius said getting up and walking towards the caldron. “You’re timing is perfect actually.” Sirius ladled an extremely watery, orange looking potion into a cup and carried it back over to Severus.

“I believe I am the Potions master at this school.” Snape said looking at the potion derisively.

“You really are a piece of work, you know that?” Sirius said, but there was a smile on his face. “Trust me. It’ll help.”

Since Sirius hadn’t killed him yet, Severus reluctantly took the potion. It tasted rather sour and burned a little as it went down. Nothing happened for a moment. He was just about to tell Sirius so when the sort of bone-deep warmth one gets from being wrapped in a blanket with a mug of tea spread through his entire body. He didn’t realize how much pain and tension he was feeling until it vanished. His limbs no longer shook.

“What is that?” Snape asked, stretching his fingers and legs, amazed to feel nothing but the normal pull and release of his muscles.

“A Cruciatus potion James and I came up with during the war.” Sirius said casually, as though he had brewed up a simple burn salve. “It’s not as good as it seems now. It’ll wear off after an hour-or-so and you can only have a few doses. It reacts badly with a lot of other potions.” Severus had no idea why Sirius was downplaying this.

“Do you realize how much this is worth?” Severus said with the same edge he had in his voice that he had when talking to Longbottom. Sirius looked surprised.

“Well, it’s not very good. James and I were just playing around with it cause of the war.” Sirius said with a bewildered shrug. Severus wanted to explain to him that medical miracles generally consisted of slow, consistent improvements to imperfect formulas but he found he didn’t have the energy. Clearly, Sirius’ aptitude for healing went beyond first-aid.

“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked, changing the subject. Severus didn’t know how to respond. In the last 24 hours, he had had tea with Potter, been tortured, been fussed over by Black, had tea with Potter again and woke up to the Bobsey Twins watching over him. Only Voldemort’s actions made sense to him, which was a thoroughly disturbing thought.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” Sirius said when Severus didn’t answer, sounding a little concerned. To Severus’ amazement it didn’t hurt to stand, and he was able to walk comfortably, if slowly, to the door. At the door, he turned to Sirius.

“You saved my life.” Severus said matter-of-factly. He meant to say it as a thank you but it came out rather skeptical. Sirius looked a little offended.

“I’m not a completely horrible person you know.” He huffed, poking his head out to ensure the hallways were empty. Satisfied, they started down the hallway, Sirius matching Severus’ slower stride.

“Well seeing as you did try to kill me once…” Severus said, more harshly than he felt. Sirius looked a little stung and Severus, for the first time, noticed the lines of exhaustion and stress on the other man’s face. Between stopping Severus from dying and brewing that potion, Sirius clearly had been up all night. The realization made Severus immediately feel ashamed. It was a stupid time to bring up a night so long past.

“Yes, well in my defense, seeing as you suspected that Moony was a werewolf, I didn’t think you were going to be stupid enough to actually try to see for yourself.” Sirius sighed, sounding weary. He hesitated for a moment, then continued.

“Moony had it so rough. I suppose we were all a little overprotective where he was concerned…and I have never had a great control over my temper.” Sirius’ voice contained that pleading, uncertain tone of someone who was trying their best to explain something while knowing they didn’t quite have the words.

“I am sorry.” Sirius said, more gravely than he had ever said anything. “And I was sorry as soon as it happened. I should have said so a long time ago.”

“Did they know?” Severus didn’t know why he asked but the question had been rippling under his skin for over 20 years. Sirius looked mildly surprised but shook his head.

“No, no they didn’t know.” Sirius answered, a small, sad smile on his face. “James wouldn’t talk to me for weeks and Remus.” Sirius swallowed. “Well things weren’t the same with us for a long time after that. If he’d’ve killed you…” Sirius trailed off, the thought too horrible.

It was odd, having the truth now after all these years. He supposed somewhere deep down he always knew that as malicious as the Marauders were they were privileged assholes, not murders.

“I suppose we’re even now.” Severus said as ungraciously as he could. They stopped outside Severus’ portrait hole and observed one and another for a tense moment.

“You’re healing abilities are above average.” Severus said. “We should utilize them.” Sirius, who had been re-transfiguring himself to look his normal age, stopped abruptly and turned to stare at Severus, confusion playing out on his face.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that we are in the middle of a war, Black. We are going to have injuries. If the current climate remains, there will be more and more instances where Order members are unable to go to Poppy or Saint Mungos.” Severus said, almost suspecting Sirius of being deliberately obtuse.

“You think I should become a healer?” Sirius said sounding half-incredulous and half-intrigued.

“You seem to possess the rudimentary skills and the predilection.” Severus said. One of his secret pleasures was helping the fifth year students pick career paths. He lacked the temperament to fuss over his Slytherins, but he enjoyed when they came to his office and, almost combusting with embarrassment, disclosed a secret passion or goal. He was able to show he cared for them and believed in them by doing nothing more than approving of their ambition and pointing them towards the correct pamphlet. When the walked out of his office, excited instead of embarrassed, it was one of the few times he felt well-suited to teaching.

“I can’t exactly apply to get the training.” Sirius protested. “I didn’t even know how to spell potions into you.” Severus shrugged.

“You were competent last night. The rest is just book-learning.” Severus said before hesitating. “Dumbledore would be able to train you. I could help in some areas as well.” The last part of the sentence came out rather stilted and painful but Sirius didn’t seem to notice. He was staring at Snape as though someone had just it him over the head with an anvil. Snape returned the look with a long assessing one.

“I know it’s not blowing up buildings and risking your neck every day, but surely it’s better than sitting at home doing nothing. You said you wanted to be of more use to the Order, this is your chance.” With that, Severus entered his quarters, which were considerably more full than he preferred.

The three musketeers had made themselves rather at home around Severus’ kitchen table. Hermione was transfiguring one of Severus’ teacups to a pig while Ron stared at her stack of notes, his eyes glazed. Potter had returned as well. He was fiddling his wand as he whispered memorized information under his breath in a hurried whisper.

“Will you stop that?” Snapped Hermione peevishly as Potter accidently made fat raindrops fall from the ceiling onto Hermione’s notes.

“Professor.” Hermione greeted warmly, noticing Severus and Sirius standing by the door. Harry and Ron looked up at Severus too, both a little more uncertain of their welcome.

“My living room is not the bloody Peach Pit.” Severus said shortly. He was made less-threatening by Sirius pushing him towards his easy-chair.

“Go on kids, you heard him.” Sirius said, winking at them as though Snape’s rancor was some sort of adorable quirk they all tolerated good-naturedly. Severus turned to give him a look of deep loathing, but Sirius was already settling himself way to comfortably on Severus’ couch. As the children packed up, Sirius summoned a kettle, started a fire and started boiling water for tea.

“Goodbye Professor. Thank you for your help earlier.” Hermione said, giving him a smile and a wave. “Goodbye Sirius.” Sirius had stood when the children moved to leave and, quite unexpectedly, Hermione trotted over to the couch and gave Sirius a fleeting hug. Looking rather surprised, but pleased, Sirius returned it.

“Bye Hermione,” Sirius replied, bemused.

“If you want, I can write my mom for the proper recipe for that stew.” Ron said, hefting his bag onto his shoulder. “It really works!” Severus’ lips quirked into the beginnings of a smile and Sirius laughed outright.

“Thank you Mr. Weasley.” Severus was about to say that Ron’s cooking was as bad as his potions work, but he stopped himself at the earnest look on the boy’s face. “I’m quite fine.”

“Alright.” Ron said, following Hermione to the door with a wave to Sirius.

“Glad you’re feeling better, sir.” “Harry said softly, his eyes betraying more nervousness then the other two. He fiddled with his wand. Severus gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. The boy turned to follow Hermione and Ron out of the room. Abruptly, Severus realized he should probably thank Harry for saving his life but the boy had already started to walk away and Severus didn’t have the words.

“Good luck you lot.” Sirius called after them. He ruffled Harry’s already messy hair fondly as he walked past him. Harry batted him off, but looked slightly pleased as he approached the portrait hole.

“We’ll be back to check in on you lot later.” Harry promised as he stepped through the portrait hole, not looking back. Severus was going to tell him to absolutely not do such a thing, but the portrait hole closed and the sound of laughter and footsteps died away. Severus was left with the very distinct feeling he had just been adopted by the trio, like some sort of stray.

Severus sighed. He was a spy in the middle of a war. There was no time for companionship and children’s studying. Even if there was, friendship was not a thing Severus had craved in years. Exchanging light barbs with Minerva about Quidditch and reluctantly accepting rock cakes from Hagrid at Christmas had sufficed for “friendship” during Severus’ last 14 years. He hardly saw a reason to change now.

“Are you planning on staying here all day?” Severus snapped at Sirius acerbically.

“Mhmm” Sirius replied, not looking up from the healing pamphlet he nicked off of Severus’ bookshelf. With an impatient flick of his wand, Sirius conjured a large stack of sandwiches and grasped one, still reading the pamphlet keenly. “Eat.”

Severus grunted and grabbed a sandwich and a stack of lesson plans from under the coffee table.