And so they waited, pacing the deserted corridor as the waited anxiously for any news of Harry's condition. It was around Eleven o'clock that same night, before the doors to the ward opened up, revealing an extremely exhausted Poppy, wearily beckoning them both back inside.

“How is he, Poppy?” asked Dumbledore, his gaze drifting toward the back of the room, where a single raven haired figure lay prone.

“I'll be honest with you Albus,” said Poppy quietly, halting by Harry's side. “It was touch and go there for a while, but I'm happy to say he's pulled through nicely.”

Both men couldn't help but sigh in relief at the news. Harry was now cleaned up and in a fresh set of flannel pyjamas, looking ten times better than what he did when Snape had carried him in … yet none present could ignore the large purple bruising, and red welts that stood out sharply against the pale skin, marring the maturing features. A large bandage had been wrapped securely around Harry's left shoulder, clearly visible through his clothing, and tinged slightly with red in a couple of patches.

“He's going to be quite tired for the next few days, and of course he'll ache, but otherwise, he should make a full physical recovery,” Poppy explained softly, letting her professional mask slip for a moment, allowing her concern and compassion show through.

Snape, however, had heard Poppy's slight emphasis on the word “Physical,” and he found himself agreeing with the unsaid suspicion. Harry's body may have been healed to the best condition possible at the moment, but what of the boy's mental state? If anything, it would be fragile, and he knew that they would all have to watch their footing around the boy, once he awoke.

“Will that wound leave a scar, Poppy?” Albus's voice cut into his musings, and Snape looked up in time to see the headmaster point to the near fatal shoulder wound.

Poppy nodded grimly. “Yes, it will, Albus. I've managed to rid him of some smaller and lighter scars, but I'm afraid most of them were simply too deep or too old. That one in particular will leave quite an ugly mark.”

“Are you sure you can't remove it, Poppy?” Snape asked, his voice strangely subdued. “There isn't any way to get rid of it?”

Both Albus and Poppy shared a glance, before Dumbledore stepped forward, asking, “Why do you want it gone so badly, Severus? Is anything wrong?”

Snape paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and slipping back into character, scolding himself for the slip-up. But how to answer? Should he tell Dumbledore the real reason why Potter was in such grave condition? Or should he continue leading him on?

Quickly deciding he didn't want Albus knowing exactly what had transpired, he settled — once again — for a version of the truth.

“No, Albus, nothing of large importance. I was merely suggesting that we try and get rid of that particular scar, for it shall always be a constant reminder of what happened tonight. Surely that wouldn't be healthy, would it? To be reminded of the night your Uncle shot you? I think not.”

Snape didn't mention that the real reason he wanted the scar gone, was so Potter wasn't always reminded that he'd almost defiantly saved his potion masters life. That was something Snape didn't want. Owing his existence to one Potter was bad enough. He didn't need two.

“A valid point, Severus,” said Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow in a fashion that told Severus he knew he wasn't being honest. “It wouldn't be healthy — ”

“But there's nothing that we can do about it,” Poppy cut in sadly. “So …… enough about things that can't be fixed,” she continued, a little more briskly. “It is late, and all that could be done, has been, so I suggest we leave the boy to rest in peace.”

“Of course Poppy,” Albus answered, turning away and motioning for Snape to follow. “We can check up on Mr Potter's progress tomorrow. Come along Severus. I believe there is an interesting package waiting for you in my office…”

*

Dumbledore and Snape strolled through the empty corridors, their footsteps echoing dimly as they approached the Stone Gargoyle, guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office vigilantly.

Dumbledore muttered the password (Biting Biscuits) and the two professors silently ascended the spiral staircase, both with thoughts on the same subject flitting through their minds, though for completely different reasons.

The reason Vernon shot Harry.

Dumbledore was quite confused about it, for even someone like Mr Dursley would need an initial reason to draw a gun on the boy. He glanced over at Severus, fining him deep in thought also, as he sat behind his desk, deciding to leave the parcel alone for the time being. It was clear by the way Snape had spoken in the Hospital Wing, that he knew something of either great importance, or personal shame. But what could it be…?

“I'd like my package now, headmaster,” said Snape, rather bluntly, not wanting to stay with the ancient wizard for too long a time. “It has been a most trying day, and I would like to get some semblance of sleep as soon as I can, so if you would just hand it over, I can be on my way.”

“In a moment, Severus,” Albus countered, holding up a hand. “First, I would like you to tell me everything about what happened tonight at the Dursleys, concerning Mr Potter's shooting, starting with why Mr Dursley saw it necessary to draw such a weapon on a fifteen year old boy? And do tell me the truth this time?”

Snape glowered darkly at the headmaster, radiating his growing impatience avidly.

“I've already given my account, Albus, and see no use in repeating it,” he growled quietly.

“Tell me the truth, Severus,” Albus repeated gently, knowing not to overly pressure the potions master into revealing something he was reluctant to say. The best way was usually as simple as waiting, for Severus had a strange habit of talking himself into speaking about something, when he wasn't being hounded for it. Something that had taken years of observation to discover.

A few minutes passed in silence, when finally Snape sighed and gazed at his knees.

“Potter is in this condition because of me, Albus,” he all but whispered, not looking up at the headmaster, for fear of spilling out all his thoughts and feelings at the moment.

“How so?” Albus asked gently, noting with some concern how soft-spoken the usually domineering potions master was.

Snape took a deep breath and plunged onward. “After I'd initially left the Dursley's tonight, under my disguise, I went back while under Mr Potter's invisibility cloak. I walked around the back, to find Potter there …… its just — Albus that bullet was meant for me!”

Dumbledore's eyes widened significantly at the statement. “Mr Dursley attacked you?”

Snape nodded. “Yes sir, he did. I saw him beating Potter while I was under the cloak, and so I revealed my presence while having my wand drawn. Needless to say words were thrown both ways and he bore a rifle at me…” he paused, swallowing visibly. “He fired …… but Potter dove in front of me…”

Dumbledore surveyed the potions master intently, fingers laced and sitting on his desk comfortably. “It seems that Mr Potter saved your life, Severus.”

Snape scowled darkly, hating the very insinuation of a life-debt to yet another Potter.

“If he's looking for thanks, he won't be getting any from me,” he hissed in a low tone. “It's not as if I asked him to do it. Probably only wanted more reasons for us to praise him and grovel at his feet…”

“Severus, Harry is not his father,” Albus shot out sharply, making Snape stop his ranting in surprise.

“Albus,” Snape started, once he'd regained use of his vocal chords. “Potter is uncannily like his father in almost every aspect. They could pass as twins!”

“That may be so, Severus, but it only applies to the way they look,” Albus countered strongly. “Their behaviour, and more importantly, their personalities in particular, are strikingly opposite.”

Snape snorted. “How on earth can you see that, Albus? They're both trouble makers, arrogant, irritating, attention seeking — ”

“Stop right there, Severus,” Albus ordered, shooting Snape a mild glare. “Although I'd have to agree that Harry does have an attraction to trouble, he is anything but arrogant, only to you and your Slytherin students is he irritating, and he loathes all the attention he receives from his fame. Harry is a naturally quiet boy, who prefers his own company, or that of his closest friends, to having crowds fawning over him. And you can no longer claim that he is living the high life at his home.”

“Which I truly hope he never has to go back to,” Snape growled, his black eyes flashing angrily. At Dumbledore's raised eyebrows, Snape continued with, “I might not like the boy, Albus, but no one deserves to be treated like that. Not even him.”

Dumbledore nodded, totally agreeing with his old friend.

“Now, about my package?” Snape spoke up suddenly, clearly changing the subject, though Dumbledore didn't protest it.

“Ah, yes,” said Albus, rising from his chair and heading for a side drawer. “As I said earlier, Severus, it is most intriguing. I was quite surprised to read her name on a delayed parcel, but I was most curious as to why it was addressed to you…”

Snape looked at Dumbledore's back curiously, wishing he would get out of the way, as he was blocking his view. He heard a soft thump, as the package was placed on the bench, followed by the scrape of the draw closing. Finally, the headmaster turned, and in his hands was a parcel approximately the same size as a shoebox, wrapped in parchment, old and yellowing.

Swallowing nervously as Albus drew closer, Snape looked down at the label as he placed it on his desk in front of him, feeling utter bewilderment surge through him alongside mild fear at the label written in fading purple ink.

To: Severus Sebastian Snape

By delayed postage: instigated on the 30th of August, 1980.

Message: It's your right to know, Severus. Everything you need to figure it out, is inside this box. It is true … don't fight it.

I forgive you

Sender: Lily Anne Evans Potter