It was the jolt of landing that made Severus Snape realized that the ring in the envelope was a Portkey. He barely realized who it was in front of him in that cursed shack that was two breaths from falling on him. He had been waiting for any number of curses or physical punishments, not for any correspondence. So, slightly confused and consciousness fading, he had slipped his hand inside, brushing against the folded parchment and the hardness of the plain ring.

Now the world refused to stay in his vision, try as he might to keep his surroundings into focus. He knew was on an incline, his head higher that than his throbbing ankle. The ring was still in his hand, along with the parchment, gripped convulsively with the jolt. The air was dank, and had he more strength, he would have gagging on the Muggle stench.

It occurred to him when the world slipped into focus once more that he actually recognized the mud he was lying on, and the stream that was gurgling past his feet.

Draco Malfoy's voice, from higher above him, stilled his musings of where he was. He felt vaguely annoyed that the boy had left Spinners End, but it didn’t last very long. The youngest Malfoy was down beside him, looking over him with wide eyes as he conjured a stretcher.

It was only then that Snape began to wonder how badly he was hurt. 

The smells of potions…damp poultices on his face…murmured spells…he was drifting easily on the sensations, not taking in much of anything else. The hard mattress instead of mud, pillows behind his head. Draco's voice, sometimes close, sometimes far away…it didn’t matter, though.

At times, he would open his eyes, blurred images resolving themselves for a few moments for his perusal. The fire in the grate, burning ever so bright… the candles spaced around the room…bottles on the bedside tables…

…but the light would become too much, and his eyes would close again. The voices with him would tell him when this drifting was done, when he had to leave this state of restfulness and awaken. Now, though, Draco's tones were smooth, calming, not harried as if they were in battle, or the Dark Lord's presence.

Only when the other came in the room did his tones sharpen, though quietly, never realizing how sharp Severus's ears had always been. The other voice, though, always seemed pleased with his condition…happy to see the wounds when Draco changed the bandages…almost crowing…

Wormtail. The other voice was Wormtail. All at once, the past few sessions of voices registered within his mind, playing out. The miscreant that had been foisted on him had been threatening Draco with going to the Dark Lord with the idea that he had prevented the capture of Potter, that the parchment he had been found with proved that his loyalties still lay with the light side. Never mind that Lucius was due to be freed from Azkaban soon, and would broke no threats to his only son from a lowly Gryffindor traitor.

"I should be the one to tell our master," the man was cackling, as Severus's eyes slowly opened.

The candles flickered beside him…

"Tell him what?" Draco scoffed, Malfoy arrogance in his every syllable. "That the Potter brat is delusional? Last I checked, he already knew that."

"It is a clear as the ink that they still believe to be one of their own!"

The fire in the grate flared wickedly, spitting out sparks onto the flagstones.

"The Dark Lord rewards the killing of traitors!" the little rat screamed as he brandished his wand.

Draco brought his own up, mouth a firm line.

Wormtail's left sleeve, from cuff to shoulder, burst into flames. Shrieking, he frantically ran from the room, alternately beating his arm with his silver hand and trying to tear his shirt off. The two Slytherins could hear his screams as he ran into the kitchen, and the higher pitch squealing when water did nothing to arrest the flames.

Draco closed the door, muting the noise. He turned around, facing his former Head of House. With an eyebrow raised, he tucked his wand away, unused.

Smirking slightly, Severus closed his eyes and slipped back into restful sleep, only dimly aware that Draco had pulled another blanket over him.