Severus was vaguely conscious of voices around him…Poppy’s first, Minerva’s, and then one lower-pitched that he was fairly certain was Albus. He couldn’t move, but he was no longer in screaming pain either so he judged it a fair trade at present.

“Madam Pomfrey, I think he’s waking up. Professor?”

If there was one person outside the Dark Lord’s ranks that he did not want to see right now, that person would be Harry Potter. Regardless of other events that might have occurred, he still hadn’t forgotten that the brat forced him to trek all over Hogwarts on a whim after deliberately violating his memories. So, of course, he’s the first one to actually speak to me.

“Severus? Severus, can you hear me?” Poppy asked. “No—don’t try and talk. Your throat is too raw.”

Then I’d advise not asking me questions.

“Can you open your eye?”

Something about that statement bothered him greatly, but opening his eyes seemed like a reasonable course of action. The part that bothered him became immediately evident as only his left eye responded. The right one…he could feel muscles twitching, but nothing seemed to be happening.

A face swam into view, distracting him for a moment. “Can you focus on my face? That’s good. You’ve had us worried, you know that?”

He refrained from growling by the barest margin. “Wh’s wr ey?” That was supposed to have been ‘What’s wrong with my eye?’ but for some reason he couldn’t quite form the words.

“Don’t talk,” she repeated. “In fact—” her wand flicked along the edge of his field of vision. “Silencio. Your throat’s been through enough these past few weeks; if you strain your vocal cords much more you won’t be speaking for at least a month.” She flitted around to his other side, doing something to his arm. “You were lucky that Hagrid found you out there, you know? A few hours longer and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

It’s hardly a conversation when I’m not even permitted to speak. But…Hagrid had been carrying him upside down? That made next to no sense, the half-giant did his best to be careful with his smaller friends. Still, how he’d gotten here from the edge of the Forbidden Forest mattered much less to him right now than his current condition, and he gave her the best glare he could manage with one eye. Apparently it wasn’t quite as effective as his two-eyed glare because she continued right along with her diagnostic spells. He couldn’t move his head any more than he could the rest of his body, but out of the corner of his eye he could make out other figures. Albus and Minerva, as he’d suspected; he didn’t see Potter anywhere, but he was quite certain he’d heard the brat earlier.

“I’m glad you’re awake. We’ve all been worried.” Albus stepped closer, and Severus deliberately un-Occluded his mind and made eye contact, showing him what the damn stones really were, at least one Deatheater who should have been back in Azkaban, and the girl that had helped him escape. She was owed something, at least, for that. The headmaster nodded but made no move to leave…had he already found out somehow?

Severus’ attention returned to Poppy who was now hmm-ing and tsk-ing to herself, and if he’d been capable at this point he’d have Legilimized her just to get a straight answer. She clearly wasn’t planning on revealing the results of her scan, at least not in any detail, beyond ‘you’re improving much more quickly than I expected.’ She made no move to end the silencing spell she’d placed upon him a few moments before, either.

“Don’t blame her,” Minerva said quietly as the mediwitch turned back towards her storeroom. “She’s spent most of the last three days putting you back together piece by piece, and I mean that quite literally, by the way.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details about how badly he’d been hurt—the injuries he remembered were bad enough—but he’d damn well like an overview. Judging by the floating sensation in his limbs, he was on so many pain potions that he probably wouldn’t feel it if Hogwarts fell on him right now; Poppy wouldn’t do that unless she had no other choice. Minerva’s expression was frighteningly solemn as well. But Poppy didn’t have to silence me. He couldn’t even ask how long he’d been unconscious.

“I think there’s someone here who wants to talk to you,” Albus put in, gesturing someone forward. “I’ll be back to speak with you soon.”

There was silence for a moment except for the sound of his and Minerva’s footfalls towards the door, and then Potter’s face appeared over his bed. “Professor?”

Wonderful. Not only was he alone in a room with someone he had absolutely no desire to speak to, he wasn’t even capable of pointing out that little detail to the brat. In fact, the only things he was apparently capable of at this point were glaring—ineffectually, judging by Poppy’s reaction—and closing his eye. He tried the second.

“Professor?”

So much for the idea that he might leave me in peace. Severus opened his eye. I can’t answer, you dolt, or did you not see Poppy put the bloody silencing spell on me?

“I, uh, I guess you don’t really want to see me right now.”

Brilliant observation.

“I thought I should probably talk to you anyway. Guess it might be kind of easier now since you can’t yell at me to go away.”

He couldn’t even growl with this damn spell in effect, and Potter was shifting from side to side which, combined with the feeling of floating, made him feel rather like he was at sea. Thoughts of large bodies of water were even less welcome that the brat at this point.

“Anyway, I wanted to say that I’m sorry about the Pensieve. I didn’t mean to look in yours. I wanted to see m—something in mine—but I couldn’t tell them apart. I picked the one closest to where I’d been sitting, but I guess…I guess I picked wrong.” He flushed and looked away, eyes focusing on the far wall.

An amazing conclusion.

“I know I should have pulled out as soon as I realized it wasn’t mine, but…they were my parents. He was my father. It’s not fair that everybody else gets memories of him and I don’t.”

The last came out in something approaching a whine, and Severus glared as hard as he could.

“I just wanted to see them. I know it’s not an excuse….”

Not at all! Obviously you should have ‘pulled out’ as soon as you realized your mistake, Severus wanted to snarl. You had no business ‘guessing’ in the first place! And as for everyone having memories of James Potter—it’s hardly everyone, and I, personally, wish the two of us had never met!

Potter had paused for a moment, but he apparently hadn’t finished what he’d come to say. “I kind of wish I hadn’t seen some of that; he and Sirius were being right pricks.”

Severus would have selected a decidedly stronger word, but at least the boy wasn’t trying to defend their actions.

“Remus wasn’t much use either, although you didn’t have to call Mum that when she tried to help.” The last was said with a defiant glare as green eyes met his own briefly, and then Potter’s stare returned to something in the distance.

I will not lie here and be reprimanded by a fifteen year old! Unfortunately there wasn’t a lot else he could do. And Potter still hadn’t finished speaking.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. Not just about the Pensieve, but what they did too. I guess if you can dislike me just for looking like him, you can deal with me apologizing for him.” He grinned quickly, but it faded out almost as fast. “I know you think I act like him too, but I don’t. Or maybe sometimes I do, but I’m not a bully, and I don’t like bullying, and I didn’t much like seeing him act like that. Or Sirius either. I wouldn’t do that to someone—we’ve never even gone after Malfoy three-on-one.”

Even Severus had to admit that that was true enough; he had never seen the trio attack as a pack with the exception of multiple Expelliarmus spells that had once struck him down in a wooden shack two years ago. And, as much as he might like to deny it, the mutt and the werewolf were far more to blame for that than Potter and his little friends.

Harry took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I called you…that…too. It’s just…they’re important. Sirius and Remus, I mean, even if they weren’t very nice to you in school. Back in third year, when we thought we’d be able to take Wormtail to the Ministry and prove his innocence, Sirius even offered to take me away from the Dursleys. He was going to let me live with him. Remus couldn’t take me himself because of the werewolf thing—”

Ah, yes, the werewolf ‘thing’ as though it’s nothing more troubling than a bit of a cold. Honestly, do all Gryffindors share that particular blind spot?

“—but he’d have been around too so it would have been almost like a family. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to one of them, and when you said Remus should die, I….”

When did I say that? Granted he didn’t like the werewolf, by any stretch of the imagination, but in a comparison between him and the mutt he was by far the more tolerable. Although…well, Severus had been quite annoyed at having to track the boy all over creation that night, and it was possible—just barely possible—that his temper had overridden his tongue. Something about impaling himself? That sounded vaguely familiar.

Harry sighed. “I guess that’s all I wanted to say. Sorry about the Pensieve and calling you what I did and my dad. They opened up the tower early so I won’t be in your rooms anymore.”

He disappeared, and Severus tried to call him back. The apology deserved acknowledgement, at least, if not acceptance. Possibly acceptance as well, as I deliberately committed the same act in return. Hm. Unfortunately, once again he was stopped by the damn silencing spell. Knowing Poppy she planned to leave the thing in place until he was healed enough to speak by her standards. That could be days, even weeks. Even if he’d had his wand—a wand—on him…he more than half suspected some kind of binding spell was keeping him from moving as well so it wouldn’t have been much use. I supposed that’s one way to keep your patients from leaving without your consent.

He still didn’t know how much time had passed since the Dark Lord had discovered his treachery. A day? Two? Are the students back? Harry did say the tower had been opened early so it can’t have been more than a week. The summoning had been when…Tuesday? That sounded right. Minerva had said Poppy had spent three days piecing him back together, which, assuming he’d escaped Wednesday, made it Friday or Saturday depending on when Hagrid had found him. Either way, the rest of the brats will be back in less than forty-eight hours. The last thing he wanted was to let any of them see him here in the infirmary. Harry was bad enough; at least Severus was fairly sure that he’d keep his mouth shut. But there would be children of the Deatheaters among the rest of the students—Draco, Crabbe and Goyle the younger, Nott…. I want this damn spell off, and I want to be mobile.

Poppy appeared, hovering around his bed again, and he did his best to mouth a demand that she remove the spell. He might not be able to vocalize, but she’d get the point. Well, he thought she would, she seemed quite determined to ignore his efforts as she muttered a few more spells and then brought forth a vial and dumped it into his mouth as he was forming ‘off.’

He felt a moment of panic as liquid once again flowed down his throat despite his best efforts to expel it. He needed air, he had to breathe—with a gulp he managed to swallow it and then nearly hyperventilated trying to draw in as much oxygen as possible. Poppy’s wand was waving, but he was too angry to care what she was doing. How dare she? I’m not a student to have whatever she pleases shoved down my throat! Of course, he had once been a student in her care which probably didn’t help matters, but…. Still, I’m an adult and have a right to have some input in his own treatment!

“There, that wasn’t so awful, was it?” she consoled as his breathing evened. “It was just a weakened version of skele-grow…you brewed it yourself.”

That doesn’t mean I want it to end up in my lungs. Not really a surprise that he needed it, considering the number of bones he remembered being broken. Healing them all at once wouldn’t have been an option but in smaller doses over time it would be effective enough. Although that didn’t still give her the right to go forcing it on him as if he was an unruly child. When she held up a second vial, he shut his lips firmly.

“Now, Severus, there’s no reason to be acting like this. You’d be the first to tell a student who came into my infirmary in your condition—”

As if there has ever been a student at Hogwarts in this condition. Bright Merlin, I’m not even sure what ‘this condition’ is, except that it’s worse than anything I’ve had before if your expression is any judge. I know there’s a law that requires patients to be informed of what their healers are doing to them.

“—that he should take the medicine he’s given and rest while he’s able.”

He made no move to open his mouth.

“Severus, you still haven’t made up all of the blood you’ve lost. So help me, I will spell this into your throat if you make it necessary.”

She would, too. And the idea of more liquid, sliding towards his lungs with no way to get rid of it…. He opened his mouth enough to drink what was offered, swallowing as quickly as he could. Blood replenisher, as she’d indicated, with something mixed…damn her.

////////////

Severus blinked slowly—his left eye was still the only one to respond and that was beginning to get on his last nerve—as the Dreamless Sleep wore off. It hadn’t been a strong dose, but obviously it had still been enough to render him unconscious. He cleared his throat carefully, relieved when he was able to make noise. “Hello?”

“Severus?” Poppy appeared a moment later. “Try not to speak above a whisper. I’ve finished healing most of the worst damage, but your throat still isn’t fully recovered. I didn’t expect to see you awake again for a few hours at least.”

“How long?”

“How long have you been unconscious? It’s been four days since Hagrid found you. You woke up a bit last night but fell asleep again fairly quickly. It’s Saturday morning.”

I fell asleep because you dosed me. Still there was no point in bringing that up—with his luck she’d just do it again. “How bad?” Her jaw tightened at that, but he refused to break eye contact. “My right to know.”

“You’ve been badly hurt.”

He snorted at that. Obviously.. “How badly?”

“Well, I managed to save both your legs, but…I’m sorry, Severus, there was just nothing left of your eye.”

His eye? Was that why his right eye wasn’t opening? It wasn’t there anymore? “I—but—how?”

She shushed him, insisting that he needed to keep his voice down, before getting around to actually answering the question. “There was a lot of trauma so it’s hard to say for sure, but I’d say some sort of cutting curse.” She sighed. “I’ve disinfected and closed the wound, but there’s very little else I can do for you. Eyes aren’t something that we can regenerate.”

It didn’t seem real, somehow, the idea that from now on this strangely flat view of the world was all that he would have. Her shifting, similar to Harry’s movements yesterday, made him push those thoughts firmly aside, at least temporarily. There’s more? But—of course there’s more, idiot! Every Deatheater, or close enough that it makes no difference, took a shot at you!

“There was massive bleeding, as I’m sure you knew, but I’ve healed most of that. You lost a kidney as well, and a piece of your left lung, but overall you got off fairly lightly in terms of internal injuries.”

In terms of internal injuries. Now there is a phrase you don’t hear every day.

“Almost all of the broken bones have been at least partially mended, although it will be a week before you’re up and around again. There’s some superficial scarring, obviously, but—”

“Almost?” he interrupted. There was something else wrong, probably bone-related judging by her phrasing, something she clearly didn’t want to tell him. The idea that something even worse than losing his eye had occurred….

She sighed. “I couldn’t do anything about your left arm, either.”

“My….” His arm?

“If it had just been crushed I might have been able to regrow the bone, but it had been cut through as well, and burned, and the reaction of all those curses with the Dark Mark….” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Severus, but I had to take it.”

“T-take it?” He tried to lift his arm, to see just what she meant, but he wasn’t strong enough to do more than twitch his shoulder.

“From the elbow down. I promise you, if I’d had another option I’d have taken it.”

He managed a slight shake of his head. This couldn’t be real. Losing an eye was bad enough, but it was something to which he could become accustomed. What use is a potions master with only one hand?

“If you’d like, I can return you to your quarters now,” she offered. “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable there, although I’m going to insist that you remain in bed for at least the next few days. Albus will find someone to cover your classes.”

He’ll have to. Severus wouldn’t even be able to add ingredients at the same time he was mixing anymore. As much as he didn’t care for teaching, the idea that it could have been taken from him just like that…. And his Mastery…. He swallowed hard. Better to lie in my rooms than here where any of the little dunderheads could come gape at me.

It was embarrassing to be levitated along through the halls and down into the dungeons, but at least there was no one but Poppy to witness it. Someone had straightened up his quarters, moved the piles of books out of the way…he couldn’t really bring himself to care about the invasion of privacy as he was put down onto his bed. “Now, here’s some more skele-grow, and blood replenisher as well.”

He swallowed them without complaint, not particularly caring if either was laced with Dreamless Sleep. Not particularly caring if either was laced with deadly poison, either. He’d managed to turn his head enough to see the stump of his arm on the way down, and however much he might like to deny the situation the sight had made it impossible. It made him sick—not so much the look of it, frankly the Dark Mark had been worse—but the clear and undeniable fact that he was never going to have two hands again.

“Severus?”

Albus. Probably here to ‘cheer him up.’ Just what I don’t need.

The older man nodded to Poppy on her way out and took a seat in an armchair. “How are you feeling, my boy?”

Severus glared.

“Now, now, it’s not so bad as all that. You’re here, aren’t you, and looking better every day. We didn’t find your wand with you—Potter said that they’d taken it—so I took the liberty of going down to Ollivander’s yesterday morning and picking up a new one. Hawthorn with a dragon-heartstring core, yes?” He pulled a thin stick of wood out of his robes. “I’m afraid this one is a bit longer than your original, but it was the best he had.” Albus set it on the bedside table when he made no move to take it. “Would you like some tea?”

There was only one part of that spiel that Severus cared about. “What do you mean, ‘Potter said’?”

“His Occlumency isn’t yet strong enough to keep Voldemort—”

Severus winced at the name, but Albus ignored it as usual.

“—out of his dreams. He was asleep and saw what happened to you, from the moment you arrived at the castle until they took you to the dungeons. He alerted Minerva who floo-called me…we were both there when he began to get visions of…well, the rest of the night’s activities.”

He felt more than slightly sick to his stomach. Bad enough that he’d had to endure that, but to have had a witness…. Well, he had more than one witness, obviously, but Potter—Harry—seeing him in that state was not something he wanted to think about. “You already knew, then? About the stone? Dolohov? That girl?” His escape served no purpose, then.

“Amelia Horace, yes. We knew that she hadn’t managed to kill you,” Albus agreed. “I didn’t realize that she’d helped you escape until you showed me.”

Severus sighed. Nearly no purpose, then. He now owed a nearly complete strange whose own life wasn’t likely to be overly long a life debt, with little to no way to fulfill it. “I’m rather tired, Albus, if there is nothing else you need…?”

“Of course, my boy. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. Oh, and about Dolohov—we hadn’t known about him specifically, but the Dementors have left Azkaban. It happened the night that you were called. Aurors were brought in to act as wardens, but there were at least a few confirmed breakouts. Probably more than a few; Fudge is trying to use Aurors he knows are loyal to him to keep it out of the news, but Kingsley is getting us information as quickly as he can.”

Wonderful. At least it explains where some of the rest of the Deatheaters came from. Slightly better than the Dark Lord having done mass recruiting without his awareness, though considering some of the ones that had been in Azkaban…. It seemed that Poppy had slipped in some kind of sleeping draught into one of the vials—or his body was still exhausted from all the healing and would take what sleep he could get—and he closed his eyes slowly. Maybe things will be better later. They can hardly get worse.

////////////

“Severus? Severus, wake up.”

“What?” he tried to snarl, actually managing to lift his head a few inches off his pillow.

“Poppy sent me down with some broth.”

He lay back, glaring at his ceiling. “I’m not hungry.” There was no way to tell how long he’d been asleep, but it probably hadn’t been for more than a few hours. That would mean it was approaching dinnertime now.

“Didn’t imagine that you would be, but you know what she’s like.” Minerva pushed her way into the room and set the bowl beside the wand Albus had brought. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling?”

“Offhand? Exhausted.”

He glared.

“And angry.” She nodded to the broth. “Would you rather the house elves came, or…?”

When he realized what she was suggesting, his glare deepened. “I can feed myself.”

“Of course.” She didn’t move.

He reached for the bowl, only to be brought up short as he caught sight of the stump. Minerva seemed to notice at the same time; he heard a quick gasp that was almost immediately silenced. “What is your problem? I imagine that you’ve had more time to get used to this than I have. After all, you’re the one who was offering to feed—”

“Severus, I didn’t mean—I meant that you were still weak from what had happened, not—”

His temper flared. Just because he couldn’t even hold a bowl and spoon at the same time any more didn’t mean that he was going to put up with pity from this…Gryffindor. “Leave me alone!”

She flushed but didn’t back down. “Not until you’ve eaten something.”

“Accio nutrient potion three!” He didn’t even need to reach for a wand for that, and a bottle came flying around the door frame and landed lightly on his chest. The fingers of his right hand seemed slow, unresponsive, but he managed to lift the bottle to his mouth and pull the stopper out with his teeth before swallowing it in one gulp. “There, I’ve eaten. Now leave.”

She seemed torn but eventually followed his instruction. He glared at the door on her exit for several minutes, and then looked at the bottle still clenched in his hand. Nutrient potion three. Requires the addition of rose hips at three second intervals while stirring continuously counterclockwise at a rate of two-and-a-half rounds per rose hip. He should preserve his stores; he wouldn’t be making that again. Minerva had left the broth on the table and for a moment he was tempted to try it, but the humiliation he’d feel if he spilled it all over himself…the nutrient potion will do for now.

He ignored the bowl and reached over to grab the wand instead. It wasn’t something he cared to admit, but having one in his hands again—even one that wasn’t technically his—was a relief. He should try some spells, see how responsive it was…with a sigh he let it fall to the bedcovers. He didn’t feel much like working magic just now. Not if he wasn’t going to be able to work the magic he wanted.