Even before he had stepped from the flames, Severus could see Albus. The old wizard was behind his desk, slumped sideways in his chair, his glasses askew and his face contorted in pain.

Severus rushed forwards, pulling his wand out as he moved and incanting a string of Latinate sounds as he moved the wand in a backwards and forwards motion, starting at the top of Albus's head and moving down over his neck and torso. For an instant before his spell told him otherwise, Severus had been terrified that Albus was dead. His fear had prevented him from hearing the rapid, laboured breathing, but now he could hear it and it terrified him more than the waxen cast to Albus's face and the closed eyes and gaping mouth.

But Severus could not immediately determine what was wrong. The old man had not had a cerebral bleed, nor had he had a cardiac episode and though his heart was working overtime in conjunction with the increased respirations, the heart muscle was sound.

"Albus, can you hear me?" Severus tried to keep the panic out of his voice. He took Albus's glasses off with a shaking hand and pocketed them.

Albus gave a low groan and his eyelids fluttered. The white lips moved but Severus had to lean down to hear and then all he could make out were the words, ‘hand' and ‘ring'...or at least that was what he thought Albus said.

Severus stood upright again. He had been on his knees beside his old friend. He could not work while Albus was sitting slouched in the chair. He pointed his wand and said, "Wingardium Leviosa," in a voice that shook slightly, and the old man rose into the air. Severus noted that Albus's fine, oyster grey robes were covered in grime and what looked like smudges made by dirt encrusted spider webs. Where in the hell had the old fool been?

Severus guided Albus up the stairs and into his bedchamber. He pulled back the covers on the bed while Albus hovered. It was as he was lowering him carefully to the bed that Severus saw a sight that made him gasp in shock. He quickly grabbed Albus's loose right sleeve to prevent his right hand flopping onto the bed. When the thin, body had settled against the pristine white sheet, Severus kept a hold on the sleeve so that the hand dangled. He pointed his wand towards the bathroom and summoned a fresh towel which he laid on Dumbledore's chest in a thick, many layered pad. A powerful cleansing charm was cast upon the clean cotton to sterilise it and then he very gently lowered Albus's hand to lie on top of it.

Where Albus's pale, clever hand with its long, tapered fingers should have been, there was now a raw, bloody mess that looked as if it had been thrust into a cauldron of boiling potion. Paper thin curls of dead white skin had peeled away from the swollen, raw and oozing muscle and Severus could see white patches of tendons and bones amongst the weeping mess. Not aware he had even moved, Severus pulled Albus's sleeve back further. The redness and swelling, oozing flesh and peeling skin stopped about an inch above the wrist. The disfigurement actually looked like a macabre glove.

Severus was so shocked, he just stood in horrified immobility, staring at the ruined extremity...staring at what had once been one of the most talented wand-wielding hands in the magical world. He did not notice Albus's eyelids flutter open and it wasn't until he felt the faintest tug on his sleeve, that his appalled eyes snapped to the pain glazed one's of his patient. The irises that were usually an amazing periwinkle blue were dulled with pain; they were a sluggish, dull grey-blue, almost as if the pain and shock had leached the colour out.

Severus swallowed and took a deep breath. "What the hell did you do, old man?" he said in a would be exasperated, albeit unsteady, voice.

"Water..." croaked Albus, and Severus immediately turned to the bedside table where he knew Albus kept a carafe of water. It was empty, as was the glass and Severus pointed his wand at the glass and filled it with cold, clear water. He didn't use magic to raise Albus's head and shoulders, but sat on the side of the bed and eased the thin upper body off the bed and placed the glass to the parched lips.

Albus drank the whole of the contents of the glass. Severus lowered him down again and when his mangled hand was jostled, Albus could not suppress a moan of pain. He breathed deeply for several seconds and Severus watched as the tension in the old body eased slightly. He opened his eyes and looked at Severus.

"I was a fool, Severus," he whispered in a worryingly, weak voice. "This was caused by a cursed ring."

Severus put his head to one side and stared as if he had not heard correctly. But when Albus held his gaze and it became obvious that he wasn't going to retract that statement, Severus said, "My God, have you gone senile? Since when has the most brilliant magical mind of the age been deluded enough to think he could put on a strange artefact without checking it first? I know you Albus, and you would have been able to detect magic within the article immediately!"

Severus's voice had become more and more deadly as his rant continued. "What were you thinking?"

"Apparently, I wasn't. I'm sorry my boy. I've disappointed you. I have proven to you that I am nothing more than a foolish, foolish old man." Albus's voice seemed to be weakening even more and Severus had to force his anger back. Time was of the essence.

"Where's this ring?"

Albus waved his uninjured hand vaguely towards the door. "On my desk...the floor...I'm not sure..."

Severus glared at Albus, wanting to berate him further, but the old man's eyes had fluttered closed again and Severus had to find this cursed ring. He looked at the hand again and a sudden thought made him pause.

He had seen similar effects from a curse before. A curse that was once a favourite of the Dark Lord's. A terrible spell that Satan's spawn had developed that actually boiled the flesh from the bones. The Dark Lord would cast the spell so that a hand or foot was afflicted, and then the curse would advance along the arm or leg at a relatively rapid pace. It would take about an hour for a fully grown man to be boiled alive, an hour of unimaginable agony that would ultimately send the victim mad before death could claim him.

The first time Severus had seen this curse, it had been used on a heavily pregnant Muggle. Whilst she had still been sensible enough to know what was happening, the young woman's abdomen had been sliced open-by Bellatrix, Severus remembered-and the nearly term foetus had been removed from her womb alive, only to have the curse put on it as well.

Severus had been seventeen and the torture had been so horrific, he had been unable to prevent himself from expelling the contents of his stomach at the feet of Bellatrix who had lifted her robes fastidiously even as she had watched a piteously wailing, writhing infant dying beside her similarly afflicted mother. He remembered that spasm after spasm had assailed him and the older, more experienced Death Eaters had laughed at his weakness, his physical and mental discomfort adding to their enjoyment of the occasion. The Dark Lord had not punished him for his weakness-indeed, he would have had to punish several new recruits who had found the graphic sights, smells and sounds too much for their then untutored souls-as he had been in a remarkably good mood because his new curse had worked better than he could have hoped. He had playfully berated his acolytes to toughen up or they would never be the kind of servants that he wished to surround himself with.

Now Severus studied the ruined hand more closely. From what he remembered of the curse, it had advanced along the affected limb and then spread across the rest of the body at a rate of about an inch a minute. But since he had found Dumbledore and seen the injury, the curse had not advanced at all.

"Albus, what have you done to stop the spread?" he asked urgently.

Albus forced his tired eyes open. He looked vaguely at Severus. "Think Albus, how did you stop the spread of the curse?"

W...wand," was all he managed to articulate before his eyes closed again. Two spots of red had appeared on the old wizards cheeks and Severus cast another diagnostic spell. Albus now had a slight fever.

Without further ado, Severus rushed out of the room and down the stairs. Wand! What the hell did he mean by wand? A wand alone could not stop such a dark curse. What incantation had Albus used?

Severus saw straight away that Albus's wand was on the huge desk which was covered with it's usual array of parchments and books, a handsome etched silver writing set complete with a phoenix feather quill and some of Dumbledore's seemingly inane trinkets. There was also some detritus...crumpled up balls of parchment and sharp scrapings spread about from where Dumbledore had sharpened his quill. And on top of the whole and looking monumentally out of place, was Gryffindors silver ruby hilted sword. Severus picked the sword up and studied its flawless perfection. There was not one scratch on the centuries old artefact. It looked as if it had never been used and yet, Godric Gryffindor would not have had it just for decoration. And this was the sword that Harry had used three years ago to kill the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets if what Albus had told him was true.

But why wasn't the sword in it's glass case? Had Albus been polishing it before he went on his little mission? Severus shook his head at this idiotic notion. Goblin made silver did not need polishing. He put the sword back down on its nest of parchment and after another minute of looking, he knew the ring wasn't on the messy desk. He had even searched the drawers. He was halfway to his knees when a thought occurred to him. He cursed himself for being all kinds of a fool. His worry for Albus and his own sleepless, nightmarish night had addled him.

He raised his wand, though really, on second thought, he didn't expect anything to happen. If there was a dark enough curse on the item to have caused the terrible damage to Albus's hand, then it would be immune to a summoning charm.

"Accio, ring!" And to his amazement, a glittering gold and black object flew straight at his head. He only just managed to catch it before it smacked into his face where it would have left a nasty wound, even if it hadn't knocked him unconscious.

Panicking, Severus dropped the ring and it fell onto a pile of parchment on the desk. He held his breath while he waited an agonized few seconds for pain to rip through him. He hadn't expected the ring to respond to his summoning charm, let alone respond to it at the speed of a bullet. But when nothing happened, he relaxed by degrees.

Severus glared at the ugly, bulky ring. Understanding dawned immediately. You must have to put the ring on a finger for the curse to be activated. It was beyond his understanding why Dumbledore would have wanted to put the hideous thing on to start with, let alone where he had found the blasted thing.

And then he bent a little closer. The black stone had a deep, wide fissure down the middle of it, effectively dividing the stone into two halves. They were held together by the bulky clawed fastenings. Frowning, Severus pointed his wand at the ring and incanted a complicated string of Latin words. Nothing happened. The curse had somehow been removed from the object.

Severus looked at the sword where it lay innocently on the desk. Why had Albus had it out? Had he known the exact spell to use to banish the curse from the ring? Albus was the cleverest man Severus knew, but he had never studied the dark arts intensively enough to be able to counter a curse that would have required a specific incantation.

Severus left the ring where it was-it was of no use to him anyway-and he entered the floo, calling out for his rooms. Within seconds, he was in his lab, opening cupboards and summoning specific ingredients. He worked with a feverish intensity and when Harry entered the lab minutes later, Severus didn't even look up to acknowledge him.

Luckily, Harry could see that now was not the time to interrupt Severus and so he hoisted himself up onto a stainless steel work bench and watched the master at work.

Harry had never really seen Snape working in his element like this, except that one time when he had been brewing what had turned out to be the paternity potion, and though that insignificant cup full of liquid had altered the course of both his and Snape's lives, its brewing had not been the frantic rush that this potion-whatever it was-appeared to be.

The tightly pressed lips, the drawn face and the angry flash in the black eyes were enough to tell Harry that whatever this was, it was very important and its earliest completion was of the essence.

Severus already had a common base potion made up. It was the combination of fifteen ingredients that were necessary to counteract the effects of any dark curse. It could be stored for several years under the effects of a stasis charm. Decanting the half pint of liquid into a cold pewter cauldron and then bringing it to a rapid boil was the first step in brewing the potion Severus knew would counter the effects of the curse. Other ingredients specific to the task at hand were added in very precise quantities and in exact order.

All those years ago, the Dark Lord had set Severus the task of developing a cure for the effects that his boiling curse produced. Not that the cure would ever be used on the Dark Lord's unfortunate victims, but accidents could happen and often did. And then there were the times when ‘Satan's Spawn' had used the curse as punishment for whatever misdemeanour one or other of his followers may have committed, and if he did not want his acolyte to die ( not always the case), Severus's cure would be brought into play.

Severus only hoped that the curse was the one he thought it was. Dumbledore had somehow destroyed the curse in the ring, and there were no traces of the dark magic left behind, so thorough a job had he done. How the old fool had managed to do that, suffering as he must have been with that injury, was beyond Severus's comprehension, but he had stopped being surprised by what Dumbledore could do a long time ago. Severus had been convinced a very long time ago that Albus's power rivalled Merlin's, and was certainly equal to that of any of the four Hogwarts founders.

Severus only hoped that he had gotten it right. If his guess-his educated guess, certainly-was wrong, he could kill the old man. And truth to tell, he had never known the curse to be actually spelled inside an object before. It was possible of course for any dark curse to be placed inside an object, to be activated at a later date, when a designated set of circumstances converged, but this was a curse of the Dark Lord's design and Severus had not seen it used since the evil wizard's return to full power. And before his downfall, he had cast the curse directly, he had never, or so Severus thought stored it to be activated later.

And that begged the question, was it the Dark Lord who had cursed the ring, or one of his senior Death Eaters who had seen it used many times, over fifteen years ago? How long had the cursed object been waiting to be activated? And what was the curse protecting? The ring itself wasn't very valuable...it was crude and ugly, the stone nothing more than a chunk of polished obsidian and the metal was not pure gold because it was not heavy enough. So Severus doubted that the ring had been cursed only to protect it from theft. There had to be another reason. Something else had been hidden in that ring.

These thoughts whirled around in Severus's mind as he added ingredients in meticulously measured quantities, and stirred with a precision that was nothing short of perfection. Harry watched his father's every move with something approaching awe. This was a very different proposition to what he saw in his potions classes, including the performances of the most talented students at potion making...Hermione of course, and Malfoy and Nott. Compared with this precision of movement and knowledge, the three best fifth year potioneers looked like they were making mud pies when they were brewing.

Hermione would be mortified if she could see just how far she had to go to reach Severus Snape's level of proficiency.

Harry thought that is Snape were to give a demonstration of what it meant to be a good potioneer who enjoyed what he was doing, after he gave his ‘I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death', speech, he might actually win over a few more converts to the art of potion making. At least he might actually have a few more people enjoying the lessons, even if they knew they could never aspire to reach the dizzy heights of perfection demonstrated by the master.

Because the base was already made, and most of the additional ingredients were already in the chopped, crushed or shredded state needed for their addition, Severus was making very good time...which was just as well, as he wasn't sure if the curse may reactivate, especially as Albus said he had prevented its advancement with nothing more than a spell. But now Severus needed to carefully chop some japonica stems, and as they were very tough, he needed both hands.

He had been aware of Harry's presence for some time now, and had been quietly pleased-amidst his gut churning worry for Albus-that the boy had the sense to just sit quietly and watch. Though he must have questions aplenty, he had not succumbed to the temptation to start asking questions. Without taking his eyes off the softly simmering grey mixture, Severus spoke.

"Come over here, Harry." The command was delivered tersely but that wasn't why Harry started. The intrusion of a human voice in the echoing lab was shocking; the only noise to date had been the hissing of the magical flames under the cauldron, the liquid swish as Severus had stirred the potion and the occasional sound of a new ingredient being added to the brew.

He jumped down from his perch and went to stand close to Snape, looking at him questioningly. "I wish you to take over the stirring. I have some ingredients to cut up." He moved his hold on the stirring rod without altering the rhythm and leaving room for Harry to put his smaller hand in place. "You must not alter the rhythm when you take over."

Harry swallowed nervously; it was obvious that this potion was critical and he didn't want to think about what would happen if he stuffed up. When he took the glass rod in hand, Severus did not immediately relinquish it, but directed the stirring for the next three rotations, before pausing for exactly three seconds and then reversing and stirring in a counter clockwise direction.

"Seven times counter clockwise, three second break, then nine stirs clockwise." Harry gave a jerky nod, but did not talk because he was too busy counting.

Satisfied, Severus attended to the japonica, and while he had the chance he weighed out thirty grams of dried, ladybug wings and poured them into a mortar where he proceeded to crush them thoroughly. He kept a surreptitious eye on Harry, but he was concentrating fully on his task and stirring exactly as directed.

Without retrieving the rod from Harry, Severus added the lengths of japonica, one at a time every three stirs, interspersing every second addition with a sprinkle of ladybug wings. The two wizards worked seamlessly until every last ingredient was incorporated and the potion had turned a beautiful golden colour.

Severus spelled the fire out and took the rod from Harry without comment. Harry thought a ‘well done' or at least a ‘thank you' might not have gone astray, but if he was honest, he had been expecting neither. He moved back out of the way, though he didn't hoist himself back onto the bench.

Harry watched, perplexed as Severus cast some kind of charm on his hand. Then he summoned a large pewter goblet from a glass fronted cabinet and catching it with the charmed hand, he directed the cauldron upwards with his wand, inverted it and allowed the contents to flow in a steady golden stream into the goblet.

Ah, thought Harry, the goblet would get very hot from the near boiling contents of the cauldron, hence the charm.

Severus now looked at Harry. "I have something to do elsewhere in the castle, and I would appreciate it if you could clean the equipment before the remnants of the potion set. Scrub it out with salt. Put all the containers of pre-prepared ingredients into the cooler and the powders onto the shelf over there. He turned and strode to the door, ignoring Harry's disgruntled expression. At the door, he threw a "Behave!" over his shoulder, and then he disappeared into the lounge. Seconds later Harry heard the floo flare, but he didn't hear the destination Snape called out.

As he picked up the empty cauldron that was now resting on the stainless steel bench, Harry wondered what the potion was, and why it was needed so urgently. There was no open potions manual anywhere for him to check out because Snape had made the whole potion from memory. And walking to the sink, Harry hoped that neither Dumbledore nor Remus needed that potion.

8888

Many hours later, Severus lifted the sterile cloth that covered Albus's injured hand and peered beneath it. The extremity actually looked like a hand again-a wrinkled, very pink hand, but very definitely a hand. The skin had regrown but was still very thin and delicate. It would be days before it had grown back to its normal thickness. Each of the fingernails was black and Severus was sure would remain so until they grew out. But it appeared that Albus's spell-whatever it had been-and the potion had countered the effects of a very dark curse indeed.

Severus lay the sterile cloth back over the hand and slumped back in one of Albus's trademark chintzy armchairs, He yawned and rubbed his tired eyes. The day had been very long and stressful, and combined with the previous long night attending the Dark Lord and watching two innocent women die, and worrying about Harry, all he wanted was his bed. He wasn't sure whether it would be Harry or this old fool who would be he death of him, but he would bet his Gringotts vault that one of then would end up with that dubious honour.

Severus picked up a glass with the remains of some single malt he had poured an hour earlier, and threw it down his throat, welcoming the slight discomfort as it burned its way to his stomach. Then with a sigh, he reached for the bottle to pour another. He was expecting his replacement any time now and Albus was out of danger, so Severus felt he needed a reward.

"Any chance of my having one of those?" said a weak voice.

Severus stopped pouring for a moment, keeping his eyes on the neck of the bottle, then he finished filling his glass. He put the bottle back on the table before raising his eyes to look at his patient. "Absolutely no chance at all," he replied in his most fearsome potions Professor's voice.

Albus sighed and shut his eyes. "I thought you would say that, Severus."

"Then why ask, old man?"

"I'm sure I don't know. Am I allowed liquid of any sort?"

Severus raised his voice slightly and called, "Flintoff!"

The house elf that Harry hated so much appeared in front of Severus with a loud crack. He bowed low and spoke to Severus's boots. "Professor Snape called for Flintoff?" he asked in his deep voice.

"A pot of tea for Professor Dumbledore and..." he looked at Dumbledore. "Are you hungry? You may have something light."

Albus shook his head. He looked at the elf. "Just the tea, thank you, Flintoff." The elf bowed low to the headmaster and then to Severus before disappearing with the another loud crack.

"May I have my glasses, my boy?" asked Albus, and Severus slipped them onto the long crooked nose. Then Albus lifted his hand and studied it minutely, turning it this way and that. Then he allowed it to fall back onto his chest, disregarding the pad of fabric it had been resting on. "You've done a wonderful job, Severus. As I knew you would."

Severus picked up the ring and held it so that Dumbledore could see it. "Are you going to tell me about this?" he asked in a hard voice.

"My boy, it would take far too long, and I have to admit the tale would be beyond me tonight. He looked towards the window. "It is night I see."

"Yes, Albus, it's night. It has been a very long day."

"I'm sure it has, and I apologise for making life difficult for you. Taking up your time when you should have been interacting with your son. How is the dear boy after his bacchanalian adventures, by the way?"

"He's in a lot better condition than you are. But then again, the mead he imbibed wasn't cursed.

A silver tray popped into existence on the dining table in the other room and Severus left to pour Albus a cup of tea. When he returned, Albus was trying to sit himself up, but was having trouble with one hand out of commission. Severus made a noise of impatience and he put the tea down and assisted Albus into a comfortable position.

Albus could use his hand, but it was still very tender. So he just took the cup from Severus and with a sigh of contentment, he savoured the hot, sweetened drink.

"Why did you put that ring on, Albus. Where did you find it?"

"As I have already said, those are questions for another time. I have a lot to ponder upon."

Severus stood in a flurry of black and began stalking about the room. "You're bloody lucky that you're in a position to ponder upon anything, you old fool! If you hadn't been able to halt the advancement of that curse before it took too great a hold, no amount of potion would have been able to mend the damage. Of course, if you had not been able to counter the curse, you would probably be dead."

Albus sighed. "But I was able to halt it and your excellent potion did the rest. What's done is done Severus, and all the ranting in the world is not going to change what has happened. But if it will make you feel any better, I will say once again, ‘I was a fool'. There, will that do."

Albus held out his empty cup and Severus snatched it from him. "Another of those would be most welcome, my dear boy."

To avoid the temptation to throttle the old man, Severus stalked into the other room and prepared another cup of tea. He knew that his rage was wholly caused by worry and fear. Albus never did anything without there being a perfectly logical reason as to why. Though it seemed that this time, for whatever reason, things had not gone entirely according to plan. Even Albus would not have risked his life as he had if he been thinking clearly. Perhaps the ring had been surrounded by some form of suspended imperious curse that made one put the ring on.

Speculation! That was all he had, because his boss wasn't going to assuage his curiosity any time soon. He watched Albus sip his second drink with a black scowl adorning his face. "If you will not tell me about the ring, will you at least tell me how you stopped the spread of the curse. I know that there is no counter-curse...only a potion will heal the damage caused by that curse and then only if it has not advanced to far."

Albus smiled. "Luckily for me, Severus, I have a truly remarkable wand. This is not the first time that it has saved my life."

"No wand could have done that without some kind of counter charm being invoked. What spell did you use?"

"Oh, just something of my own, spur of the moment, devising. But I do assure you, that it was my wand that was responsible for a job well done. Where is it, by the way?"

Severus had left the wand down on Albus's desk. He had not given it a second thought earlier. Now he raised his own wand and the other sailed through the door and into Severus's outstretched hand within seconds of his summoning it. He looked at it closely, noting the runic carvings around the intricately turned handle. It was quite a long wand, at least thirteen inches, and quite handsome, but otherwise, it looked entirely unremarkable.

He handed it to Albus, who took it in his left hand, his old fingers grasping it eagerly.

"What is it made of?" asked Severus.

Albus was caressing the handle. "Elder, my boy...elder."

Something stirred at the back of Severus's mind, but it was so vague, he shut it out. "And the core?" he asked, impatiently

Albus's smiled once again. "Ah, the core. There is much conjecture over that, Severus, but my own suspicions are so unbelievable, I think it best that I keep them to myself."

"What are you talking about. Why don't you know. It is your wand...I presume it was made for you."

"Actually, no. This wand is very old..."

"I don't know how to break this to you, Albus, but you are very old."

Albus chuckled. "Too true, my boy. But this wand is much older than I."

Severus shook his head. "I think that cursed ring did much more to you than nearly destroy your hand. You're losing it, old man."

"Quite likely, my boy, quite likely," and Albus reverently lay his very old wand on the table beside his bed.

"Well Severus," he said by way of a change of subject. "I think I am well enough to survive without your tender ministrations now. You have done a wonderful job, and I and my hand thank you very much for your timely intervention. Perhaps you should get back to Harry now, though."

"I imagine Harry's asleep. I checked him a couple of hours ago and he was then."

"Good heaven's!" exclaimed Albus. "What on Earth is the time?"

"It's ten pm, but Harry had a very disturbed night last night. In fact, he was up most of the night and in quite considerable pain for a fair proportion of it."

The easy smile fell from Dumbledore's lips and his brow furrowed. He pushed himself up a little more, wincing as he used his healing hand. "Why? What's happened?"

"Perhaps it would be better if you remain ignorant for tonight..."

"Tell me Severus. What have I missed?" Albus was once again the powerful old mage that Severus was used to dealing with when it came to Order business.

Severus sighed. "I was summoned last night. Harry was so affected by the connection that his scar actually bled. I had to force the potion into him because he wanted to stay awake...he wanted to be aware of what was going on."

Albus looked grey, and suddenly very, very old. "And what was going on?"

"Madam Bones and Emmeline were tortured and murdered last night," said Severus heavily.

Dumbledore's mouth fell open and he fell back against his pillows, his eyes closed and sadness and mourning etched into every wrinkle. Tears welled and leaked from the corner of his eyes. Severus reached forward and put his hand over Albus's, where it had fallen onto the bed.

"I'm sorry Albus, I know that you knew and was fond of them both."

"Both dear friends," whispered Albus in a quavering voice. He opened his sad old eyes and focused on Severus. "Did they suffer much?"

Severus wanted to lie, but he knew it would be pointless. "Madam Bones was nearly dead when I got there. I could do nothing to ease her suffering." Then he went on to describe how he had helped Emmeline as much as he could, which wasn't very much at all and was of little comfort to the old man."

Albus extricated his own hand and patted Severus's. "I know you did what you could, Severus." He gazed off into space for a minute and Severus let him collect himself. Finally, with a deep breath, Albus took his glasses off and dashed the wetness from his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"Well, Severus, I've held you up long enough. I think Harry deserves your presence now. And you must need sleep yourself, my boy." Albus began polishing his glasses with the edge of the sheet

Severus sat back and crossed his legs, adjusting his robes fastidiously. "I'll leave when Minerva gets here," he said.

Albus started and looked at Severus with a horrified expression on his face.

"You didn't summon Minerva back?"

"I did."

Albus groaned and Severus had to bite back a smile. The old man sounded just like a small boy who knew he was in for some serious scolding, followed by some serious coddling."

"I thought you were my friend, Severus."

"I am your friend, though a more supremely irritating friend it would be hard to imagine. But, despite my frequent forays into the Dark Lord's camp, I do value my life, and if Minerva was to find out that you had been this ill and I had not summoned her...well, I don't think I need to paint any clearer picture, do you?

"Severus, I would not have thought you capable of such a dastardly deed. I had supposed myself your friend."

Severus smiled. A real smile. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it transformed the man's hard face into something much less threatening and bitter. Severus Snape was not totally without appeal. Albus had always known it. He just tried to make himself appear that way.

At that moment the floo flared and Albus groaned and for a second, Severus's smile grew as he observed the pained look on his bosses face that had nothing at all to do with his healing hand.

Minerva had arrived.

8888

Severus's face had returned to its usual harsh lines when he stepped out of the floo into his quiet, darkened living room. all looked peaceful but he didn't trust his senses. Even the fact of his having surreptitiously warded the floo-the door was already warded-from even internal travel did not assuage his slight disquiet. After all, this was Harry Potter. He had to check that all was as it seemed.

For once, it was. Harry was curled into that ridiculously tight ball that he preferred to sleep in and he was sound asleep. There didn't seem to be any congestion tonight, so perhaps the cold was on the wane. The couple of quick glimpses Severus had had of him today-in the lab and when he had come to arrange a meal for him-other than a slightly reddened nose, Harry had seemed well enough.

As he readied himself for bed, Severus wondered how Albus was faring with his lady in charge and in sergeant-major mode.

A shower helped him relax and once in bed, and staring at the dark ceiling, he smiled as he revisited in his minds eye an extremely cowed Albus Dumbledore wilting under the weight of his beloved's censure. Minerva had the story out of the two of them within ten minutes of sweeping into the room in all her tartaned glory. But not even one of the most formidable witches that Severus knew could wheedle the story of the ring out of Albus. There was more of the ‘I have a lot to ponder upon', guff, which had brought the wrath of Minerva McGonagall down upon his white head. But despite her fury, Severus noted that her efficient care and handling of her weakened partner was all gentleness.

Minerva had thanked Severus for his care and told him that she would call him if she thought he was needed. As Severus had descended the stairs, he could hear Dumbledore's disgruntled tones as he asked Minerva to stop fussing, and her brisk tones as she had told him that if he didn't behave himself and lie down, she would put him in a full body bind.

Severus went to sleep with a small smile adorning his lips. He had smiled several times that day. A feat that was almost unprecedented for Hogwart's potions master.