"Severus, we have to move him to the Hospital Wing immediately. He is severely hurt and his magic is almost totally depleted."

"Depleted?" What had the brat been up to?

"Yes. Now don't dawdle and follow me, you can explain later... and try not to jostle him too much."

The short trip to the Hospital Wing was blessedly uneventful.

Snape had filled Madam Pomfrey in on the events of the previous minutes (although it seemed that hours had actually passed since Potter had drunk the fateful draught); strangely she did not comment or reprimand him for his actions, but her glare spoke volumes and he knew he was in for a lecture as soon as her worries about Potter would be assuaged. ‘Not that you don't deserve it this time... but I am afraid that there will be little left for her to scold, after Dumbledore is done with you', the baleful nagging voice in his head suggested, before he could suffocate the thought.

Snape held Potter while flooing from the Potions classroom to the Infirmary, quickly following a troubled Madam Pomfrey.

The Potions Master had actually been afraid that Potter would give him a hard time, before allowing to be moved, but Potter had not fussed at all, even though even the slightest shift in his position had to be extremely painful.

As soon as they reached the Hospital Wing Madam Pomfrey directed Snape to what she referred to as "Potter's bed" then rushed to her office to fetch an array of potions and salves that she hoped would help restore the boy to good health.

Snape stood beside Harry's bed, waiting for her return, making sure that the boy would not fall off the bed or get himself into trouble - ‘further trouble, that is' - before the matron came back, even though the boy had not said a word or moved a limb since he had cautiously picked him up from the cold dungeons' floors a couple of minutes before. Before, Snape had thought that he might have fainted again, but the boy's eyes where open, albeit dulled, and his breathing was too erratic: it was a telltale sign of pain even though no other sound was coming from the boy; Snape had to wonder how high Potter's pain threshold actually was.

It was another thought for later.

Madam Pomfrey came back just as Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing.

He was slightly out of breath and was wearing a travelling cloak on his otherwise brightly coloured robes, Minerva McGonagall fast on his trail. Dumbledore must have been at the Ministry or at Grimmauld Place, Snape reckoned, otherwise he was sure the Headmaster would have been waiting for them in the Hospital Wing long before their arrival.

The Headmaster took in Harry's broken form in a glance and looked sharply at the Potions' Master, his eyes - for once - not twinkling at all. Snape wondered how much he knew already, he assumed McGonagall must have summoned him back, after Granger had not been able to find him in his office, and told him what she knew. Admittedly not much, but surely enough to know how foolish Snape had been.

Dumbledore immediately went to Madam Pomfrey and the two began talking fast and too quietly for McGonagall and Snape to understand. But the Gryffindor's Head of House did not seem to be interested in the conversation at all; she was looking at Potter with tears in her eyes and Snape could see her longing to touch the boy, take his hand maybe, but she was obviously afraid of hurting him. So she just ran her hand through his hair, gently caressing his forehead.

Potter had seen her hand moving towards him and wearily followed her movements with his eyes, but did not react further. After a few tense seconds he seemed to relax slightly more into the pillows. McGonagall must have felt it as well, because she continued her soothing motion. She did not try and talk to the boy. Maybe she did not trust her voice not to break, or maybe she just thought that sometimes actions speak louder than words.

Anyway, it was odd, seeing her like that. Snape would not be able to explain if he found stranger that she would allow anyone to see her so upset or that she would show her motherly affection for a student so openly. That she loved all her students dearly was not really a secret for the other professors, but she showed it rarely, preferring to hide behind her sternness and austerity.

He moved towards her, but Madam Pomfrey was faster than him, she and Dumbledore came back and the matron - none too gently - shooed them away.

"Severus, Minerva, please go and wait outside. There's no need to crowd Mr Potter, the Headmaster and I will take care of him."

Snape did not really want to go, somehow he felt like he had to stay - ‘Out of duty, of course!' - but he certainly did not want to say it aloud, it would be a... weakness on his part and weakness did not sit well with Severus Snape. He hoped that Minerva would act true to tradition and try to go against Pomfrey's orders. He was not disappointed.

"Poppy, I actually believe it would be better if I remained here..."

"Not at all Minerva. And you Severus, don't look at me like that. I know both of you very well and I know what you are trying to do. And I tell you that you are going out of my ward right now, willing or not willing. Out!"

The briskness of the mediwitch was a clear sign that Potter was doing even worse than Snape had feared. She did not usually show a sunny disposition, but this was a bit too vigorous. She was unmistakably worried and Dumbledore was backing her up fully, his face way too sombre for Snape's liking. As much as he loathed Dumbledore's sometimes smug expression and twinkling eyes, this was far worse.

The two Head of Houses knew that they had been bested and quickly left the Hospital Wing, but did not go further than the small hall just outside Poppy Pomfrey's domain. 

McGonagall sat on the hard wooden bench, looking extremely interested in the pattern the stone tiles designed on the floor, while Snape was idly looking outside of the window. Both of them were lost in their thoughts.

Surprisingly enough, though, Snape was the first to break the heavy silence.

"Weasley and Granger?"

She did not raise her head. "Back in the Tower. I told them that Harry... Mr Potter... would be okay soon and that they had to tell the others that everything was fine. They will report that he is just spending the day in the Hospital Wing as a safety measure. I had to promise that I would let know something as soon as possible. I hope I convinced them not to come here."

"Will they follow your advice?" Snape sneered.

"I hope so. For Harry's sake... they would."

The uneasy silence was back. Minerva raised her head and looked at Snape. She could see how tense he was just from his countenance. Severus Snape was never fully relaxed - she almost could not fathom a stress-free Snape - but sometimes, if you knew him well enough and you knew what to look for... one could notice when he was even more strained than usual. It was in the way he kept his shoulders and back ramrod straight, or how his normally unemotional face would blank to the point of becoming a mask. Just like now.

Dealing with Snape was always difficult, dealing with him when he was like this was almost suicide. Well, she was a Gryffindor after all. That's what Gryffindors were made for. And while she half wanted to slap him for what he had done to Harry - and slap hard, mind you! - on the other hand she was positive that he had not wanted to hurt the boy like that.

"How are you Severus?" she asked mildly, her voice a bit strained and weary. But caring nonetheless.

He spun on himself so quickly, that had he been anyone else he would certainly tumble to the floor.

"Me? Are you daft or what Minerva?" he exploded "I'm not the one you should ask!". The mask had fallen and emotions were back for a second, but she could not decipher them fast enough and, anyway, Severus truly was a master at hiding himself. She frowned, but her gaze stood fixed on the man's face.

"I worry for all my students, Severus," She answered calmly "and Harry is in safe hands right now."

"I stopped being your student a long time ago, so save me the platitude." Snape sneered, his voice dripping sarcasm. What was she playing at? He was not in the right mood for her games.

"Didn't you want to say that you never really one of mine?" she retorted.

‘Trust Minerva to be blunt' The message was painfully clear. McGonagall had not been kind to him during his own school years at Hogwarts. Indifferent at best, sometimes - maybe unintentionally - cruel.

She had loved her Gryffindor students though, and - troublesome as they were - the Marauders had been her favourites. The apple of her eye. She could never stay angry with them long enough. They could do no wrong, could they? He had always been the one to blame.

Severus felt the old rage well up inside him until it was a huge lump of anger in his throat. She may think it was nothing but the old grudge of a teen-ager but he had never really forgotten. That schoolboy was still hidden somewhere deep inside him. Merlin! He had been no saint, nor would he ever be, but four to one had nothing to do with fairness either. How dare she bring up the issue now? Was she trying to make a point? He was not them!

‘Are you sure? Is what you did any better than the pranks James Potter pulled on you?'

He stalked forwards, his robes billowing behind him even in the restricted space of the hall, reaching the Transfiguration professor in mere strides, another burning retort on his lips.

"But, I prefer to think that you were a rather late one." She deadpanned.

He deflated and let himself fall on the hard bench beside her, closing his eyes in the hope of staving off the impending headache he felt beginning. ‘Why didn't she change the bloody seats into armchairs? She teaches Transfiguration for Merlin's sake!'. It was a rather stupid thought, but the only one that came to his mind. He had to gather his wits quickly: letting himself be baited like this would not bring any good.

"That was low, Minerva". He replied smoothly.

She gave him a strange look. She knew she had been provoking him, but it was high time that her colleague finally made up his mind and admit that there might be people worrying for him as well.

She sighed. She had postponed this discussion for too long, they should have talked openly and buried the hatchet years before: she had been wrong and should have said so. On the other hand Severus was as stubborn and unapproachable as they came and she had never found the right moment. Or she never wanted to. It was too late anyway.

When he had been a student, she had not been capable of seeing behind his facade. She had not seen the real Severus Snape, the poor and desperately lonely boy, she had seen what he had wanted everyone to see: the self-sufficient young man, the death-eater-in-the-making-attitude, the perfect Slytherin. There had not been an evil intent in her behaviour towards the skinny dark boy, but she certainly had not cared enough to try and support this particular student like she should have.

Even though she was Head of the Gryffindor House, she was first of all a teacher and she had duties towards all the children and there was no denying that had Severus been a Gryffindor she would have treated him differently, she would not have been so indifferent. She had vehemently denied it with Albus, at the time, but he had been right. Had Severus been a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw he would never have become a Death Eater. Character had nothing to do with it, it was a simple matter of acceptance: if he had felt wanted and appreciated... he would not have turned to Lucius Malfoy and his sidekicks.

She should have handled things differently. The Marauders... if she had just put a stop to their pranks when it was time, that awful night at the Shrieking Shack would never have happened. But those boys had been so charming that she could never stay angry with them long enough. She scolded them, gave them detentions, but she did nothing to actively stop them. She could have done more. She should have done more. And Albus had been just as bad. It was easy to like those boys, much easier than liking Severus Snape, in any case, and whenever she had been too lenient with them, she had told herself that they were just pulling pranks, that they were only boys, that no real harm was being done. If she only had known how wrong she was. The strings of ifs was too long.

In the end things had come to an edge at the Shrieking Shack and then everything went downfall from there. It would not have been possible to expel Black - as he fully deserved - without dooming Remus Lupin. Remus' safety had been their only worry at the time and Albus had done all he could to keep things low-keyed and not alert the Ministry, which meant that the whole affair had to be secreted. It had been the final straw for Severus. They saved the wolf, but lost the snake.

Severus Snape had become a Death Eater soon after leaving Hogwarts.

When Severus had understood how foolish he had been and gone to Dumbledore, she had been all against giving him a second chance, she did not think that he deserved it, but Albus had been adamant about it.

She had been so stupid, hadn't she? Even though he really did not need to, Albus had explained it to her patiently, telling her that everyone was worthy of a second chance, even Severus, especially Severus, because he had really never had one in the first place. Sure, he had been daft and immature, he had chosen the easy way instead of the right one, but what had they done to help him, to show him that there was a right way? They had given him nothing but a cold shoulder. And his family had been even worse.

It had still taken her months, if not years, to understand her mistakes, though.

Minerva McGonagall had been in Order from the beginning. She was a strong and brave witch, but she almost never took part in battles, she usually was the one who stayed behind at Hogwarts or at Headquarters and took care of the practical matters which everyone else - Albus included - usually overlooked. It was hard work behind the curtains, but not less important for the Order. She was Albus' right hand and did for the Order what she usually did for the school.

In those first months, short after Severus' change of heart, when the Headmaster was out and Severus was summoned, she was the one who would wait for him to come back. She did not like her task and made no pretence to the contrary.

Finally, just a couple of weeks before Lily and James Potter would be killed, Severus had been summoned. It was not unusual, Voldemort called him at least two or three times a week at the time, even though the meeting were rarely longer than three hours. Anyway, it was a stormy night, cold and rainy and Minerva could not help but feel uneasy. Cats don't like water, after all. Albus was in London and she and Poppy Pomfrey were the only two people in the castle aware that Snape was out. And he was quite late.

It was not until well after three in the morning that the wards signalled his return. She rushed out towards the Forbidden Forest, uncaring of the rain, and what she saw made her blood turn cold: Severus was slumped against a tree, barely conscious and covered in blood. It was not the first time that he came back battered and bruised, but the Dark Lord, as he called that monster, had never gone so far before. It was two days before Madam Pomfrey could be sure that Severus would survive without permanent damages. On the same day he was summoned again and although he was not fully healed yet, he had gone without any afterthoughts or hesitations. It was the bravest thing she had ever seen and from then on Severus Snape had a special place in her heart.

But she had never told him, although she knew that her changed attitude towards him had not gone unnoticed. Their relationship had become less and less bitter, then respectful and now - in-between the usual bickering - even friendly, but the shadow of the past still stood between them like a solid wall.

‘It's now or never' she thought.

"Severus, really. We have been colleagues - if not close friends - for over fifteen years now and I know for sure that you are not as bad as you would like us to think. Can you really believe that I would not worry for you?" she asked quietly.

Had she been her usual self, stern and sure of herself, he would have dismissed her words easily, even scorned her. But this thoughtful side of hers, which was usually well hidden behind her prim Gryffindor attitude, was something different and he could not deny how much Minerva's behaviour towards him had changed during the years they had spent at Hogwarts and in the Order. Still...

"You do choose the strangest of times for your... acknowledgment, if that's what this is." he drawled, his eyes still closed, despite his headache having flared up all the same. But he would not drink the pain reliever he had in his pocket. Not in front of her. It was bad enough that he had allowed the conversation to progress so far.

She stood up.

"No, it's not strange at all." she retorted "I certainly waited long enough". He did not answer, but she could say that he was listening intently. Suspended judgement.

She went on "Don't you see that it's the same story all over again? We have to stop it this time."

"I really don't know what you are talking about." But he knew very well.

It was the very same thought that he had been trying to suffocate since he had almost killed the Boy-Who-Lived. Less than one hour before he had been Minerva and the Marauders all in one person and his revenge had been much more bitter than he expected. He had expected the tangy flavour of victory and tasted the sourness of guilt instead.

"Sure and I am the next Minister of Magic." She scoffed, her temper raising. "Are you two really so different now that you've seen behind the mask?"

"We have nothing in common, Minerva... we are as different as night and day."

"And what are night and day if not the two halves of the same day?" she answered. "I made a mistake back then, Severus, and you took the brunt of it. Don't make the same mistake I did."

"You give yourself too much credit." he replied angrily. "You certainly were not the worst that happened to me." He snapped, then shut his mouth, as if he had said too much. He was having a hard time controlling his temper. She had no right to talk to him like that. Not now.

"But I was part of it. As were the Marauders and all the others... if only we had been more supportive..." she trailed off.

"You can't rewrite history with what ifs." He struggled to maintain his demeanour.

"I know. It's too late now. But not for Harry. We can still help him."

"Like you did with Umbridge last year?" He lashed out. Oh it felt good.

McGonagall turned red and he waited for her temper to explode. But he was sorely disappointed. She went back to the bench and sat down slowly.

"I failed him. He wanted to tell me and I did not listen. I knew that she was mistreating him, I just did not know how badly. I was too busy and I- I did not want to show favouritisms. How could I be so stupid?"

He sighed and finally admitted "We all made mistakes." He thought of the memories he had seen in the boy's mind during Occlumency.

"Yes we did. How long have those Muggles been hurting him? And he never told us. You were too prideful, Severus, what is he? Afraid? Ashamed? The final result is the same, a deeply hurt boy."

Before he could say anything, the doors of the Hospital Wing opened and a weary looking Dumbledore came out.

"He will live."