Two weeks later, Minerva stood with Poppy at the end of Severus’ bed in the Hospital Wing. He had returned to consciousness after a day, but no-one could claim he was really awake. He wasn’t quite catatonic, but he did everything asked of him with the mindless agreeability of someone under Imperius. The rest of the time, he stayed motionless, his eyes open but unseeing.

“It breaks my heart to see him like this,” Poppy said softly, as if she didn’t want to disturb him.

Minerva silently agreed, but did not say so. After all the arguments over her Lions, she was fairly certain that Severus would not believe it of her, nor would he appreciate the sentiment.

“Is there nothing more you can do?” she asked instead.

Poppy shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice tinged with regret. “Physically, he’s perfectly fine, just malnourished, and a few good meals will sort that out.” She turned to look at Minerva. “Has Albus decided anything? There isn’t really any point in having Severus remain here much longer.”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Albus himself answered from behind them. He stopped at the bedside and patted the Potions Master’s lax hand. “He shall be moved to his rooms, where he’ll be looked after.”

“Looked after by whom?” Minerva wondered, not trusting the look in Albus’ eyes.

He smiled at the two witches, and it was not an altogether friendly one. “Why, by the two who caused this, of course.”

“Honestly, Remus, I don’t like it!” Sirius Black snapped, folding his arms across his chest and refusing to go near the fireplace where Remus Lupin was waiting impatiently. “Once was bad enough, but twice?”

“When are you going to grow up, Sirius?” Remus snapped back. “Dumbledore asked for you; are you really going to keep him waiting?”

“I just don’t see why it has to be in Snivellus’ rooms when he has a perfectly good office!”

Remus literally growled at Sirius, who looked taken aback by his friend’s annoyance. “Perhaps,” snarled Remus, “it’s because there’s something wrong with one of his professors and a member of the Order, and he wants to ensure he’s taken care of. If you want to hold on to petty grudges, then you can explain that to Albus yourself!” And turning back to the fire, he threw in a handful of Floo powder. “Professor Severus Snape’s quarters, Hogwarts, Wolfsbane!” And with the utterance of a newly established ward’s password, the green flames engulfed him and he was gone.

Sirius stared at the empty fireplace as the flames died down. Since when had Remus started siding with Snivellus? It wasn’t like the greasy bat had any fondness for Remus. Sirius was sure he only made the Wolfsbane Potion because Dumbledore forced him to.

The fire suddenly flared again, but instead of Remus or Dumbledore stepping out, as Sirius expected, it was Harry’s head that appeared.

“Harry!” Sirius exclaimed, dropping his arms to his sides and stepping towards the fireplace. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Dumbledore asked me to hurry you up,” Harry replied with a grin. “We’re all waiting for you.”

Sirius hesitated, then rolled his eyes. Scorch Dumbledore, he knew just what would push Sirius into doing his bidding. “Back up, then,” he said to Harry. “I’m coming through.”

Sirius stepped through the Floo into a room that was more crowded than he’d expected. Along with Harry, Remus and Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey and, surprisingly, Draco Malfoy were gathered around a chair in the middle of the room.

“Ah, Sirius,” Dumbledore said, beckoning him closer. The Malfoy boy turned, and glared at Sirius with a look that he recalled the older Malfoy giving him when they had been in school.

“What’s he doing here?” they asked in unison, then glared at each other.

“Harry discovered Severus,” Dumbledore carried on, ignoring them both.

Sirius crossed the room to clap Harry on the shoulder. “Clever boy, Harry!”

“Was just lucky, that’s all,” Harry muttered, and twitched his shoulder away. He didn’t look happy, but then again, it meant he’d have the no-good Slytherin as his teacher again. Sirius supposed any decent non-Slytherin would be upset by that.

“However,” Dumbledore ploughed on, “we have a problem.” He and the others backed away from the chair, and Sirius got his first glimpse of the returned Snape.

Sirius’ mouth fell open. Snape looked dreadful. He was almost skeletally thin, and his skin, stretched painfully over sharp bones, looked translucent. His hair hung limply down past his shoulders, and was ragged at the ends. His eyes, although open, stared blankly ahead. All life had gone from them, leaving them dull and glazed over. Snape’s head lolled back against the armchair’s wing, and his arms rested passively in his lap.

“Did a Dementor get him?” Sirius asked.

“No, it seems that Severus has suffered a trauma so great that he is hiding himself from the world,” Dumbledore explained, sadly. “Not even I can find him, so deeply in his mind is he hidden.”

“So what does that have to do with us and Harry?” asked Sirius, gesturing to include Remus. Harry looked away, obviously already knowing the answer.

“Severus cannot stay in the Hospital Wing,” Dumbledore said, laying a hand on the Potions Master’s shoulder. There was no response. “He will need someone to look after him.”

There was a pause while they figured it out, and then “You can’t be serious!” “No way!” exploded from both Sirius and Draco Malfoy.

“You can’t do that; Uncle Severus will never come back!” Malfoy continued.

Ordinarily, Sirius would have disagreed with the boy on general principle, but in this case, that would mean actually agreeing to look after Snape, so instead he just nodded.

“I’m afraid in this case, I must insist,” Dumbledore said, firmly. “As Harry and young Mr Malfoy here will have classes, then Sirius will be needed during the day.”

Ugh, all day alone with Snivellus? Sirius pulled a face at the thought. Hang on – alone with Snivellus . . . He could do whatever he wanted to the Slytherin, who wouldn’t be able to stop him.

Sirius was just raising his hands to rub them together gleefully, when something pulsed through his nervous system in a jittery wave, leaving him shaken.

“Ah, did I mention you’ve all been placed under a Healer’s geas?” Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at Sirius, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Muttering under his breath, Sirius retreated to the far corner of the room. 

Draco Malfoy watched his cousin slink away, and thought of all the bad ideas the crack-pot Headmaster had ever come up with, this one was the worst.  

He turned back to look at his godfather. Yes, the man needed help, but as if two Gryffindors would be able to provide it. No doubt if he ever came back, Uncle Severus would throw a fit over the Headmaster allowing any old riff-raff into his quarters.

Draco suddenly realised the Headmaster was talking.

“. . . have to Legilimise him, but I will help you with that.”

“What?!” Draco swung round. Dumbledore had been talking to Potter, but now gazed steadily at Draco. “Why do you need to Legilimise him? He hasn’t invited you – that’s invading his privacy!”

“I appreciate your concern, Mr Malfoy,” said Dumbledore, “but unless you all see what the problematic memories are, how will you all be able to find the best way to heal Severus?”

Draco opened his mouth, then closed it again. Dumbledore was correct – if they didn’t know what had caused his godfather to retreat in the first place, then they could accidentally make things worse.

“If we must,” he agreed after a moment. “But only the trauma, and the Gryffindorks go first, that way I can help repair any further damage they cause.”

“Very well, Mr Malfoy.” Dumbledore inclined his head in a brief nod. “Harry, if you would stand before Professor Snape?”

Draco kept his eyes on his godfather as Potter moved to stand where he could meet the professor’s gaze, ready to leap forward at the first sign of . . . well, anything that Uncle Severus displayed.

After murmuring instructions to Potter – He’s been taking lessons in this from Uncle Severus, how could he not know how it works? – Dumbledore gripped his wrist and they raised his wand together to cast the spell. Dumbledore stepped back.

Potter remained motionless for a good five minutes, before he let out a cry and reeled backwards. His face had gone white, and his expression was stricken. Draco felt a pang of worried alarm. What had Potter seen?

McGonagall, Pomfrey and Black all surged forwards to reach Potter, but interestingly, Dumbledore didn’t move.

“Oh God,” Potter choked. “Oh Merlin. That was . . . I can’t . . . we did that?” He turned to the Headmaster, his eyes pleading for an absolution that didn’t come. When Dumbledore gave no answer, Potter stumbled to the nearest chair, and sank into it, burying his face in his hands.

“Harry?” Concerned, Black knelt before him.

Potter looked up at Snape, then at the Headmaster. “Sirius shouldn’t go in,” he said, hoarsely. “It’ll be too much. Sirius has to stay out.”

Dumbledore inclined his head. “If you think that’s best, Harry,” he said, and turned to Draco. “Do you require assistance, Mr Malfoy?”

“No,” Draco answered bluntly. “Uncle Severus taught me.” He moved slightly to see his godfather’s eyes and cast the spell.

People. Hundreds of people. Towering over him, looming, threatening. Sniggering, taunting, laughing. “Loser.” “Coward.” “Snivellus.” “Who’d want him?”

Pain. Exploding everywhere. Fists to his head. Arms broken. A belt to his back. “Stupid brat.” “Worthless.” “Freak.” “Shoulda drowned ya at birth.”

Loneliness. Aching silence. No one to aid or defend. Just alone. Always alone.

Draco reeled back with a cry of his own. He covered his eyes with a hand and fell to his knees. How in Merlin’s name did his godfather cope with that without going insane? He suddenly gained a whole new respect for his Uncle Severus’ strength of mind.

A small sound made him look at Potter, who had wrapped his arms around himself. A sudden flash of rage washed over Draco.

“How could you do that?” he snarled at Potter.

“Mr Malfoy—” Pomfrey started, in protest, but Draco ignored her.

“There’s always been rumours about your family and how they treated you,” he carried on. “So how could you do that to him?”

Poppy Pomfrey startled back and fell silent as Mr Malfoy suddenly screamed his last sentence directly into Mr Potter’s face.  

Mr Potter jerked back, and his face lost any remaining trace of colour, but he said nothing in reply.

Mr Black began to hotly defend his godson, but Mr Malfoy turned on him, too.

“And you!” he said, in a voice of deepest loathing. “Following in the Black family footsteps, are we? Your mother would be so proud.”

Mr Black tried to splutter a protest but then fell silent.

Poppy inched her way closer to Minerva. “What is going on?” she asked softly.

Minerva looked faintly disapproving. “I’m afraid Harry and Sirius . . . had words with Severus before he disappeared.”

“Is that how Gryffindor ended up with so many negative points?” Poppy asked.

Minerva nodded. “They haven’t said, but I don’t think they were kind words.”

Poppy sighed. “You’d think the Marauder would have realised he’s not in school anymore.” She looked at where Severus was sitting, oblivious to the screaming going on in front of him.

A sudden flash of light heralded the arrival of Fawkes, and seemed to halt everything. The large phoenix ignored everyone else, and landed on Severus’ knee. He sidled along until he was pressed up against the Potions Master’s body, and then began to croon a low, soothing melody.

Poppy blinked at the bird, then looked at Albus, who seemed just as surprised as everyone else.

Pulling herself together, she clapped her hands briskly. “Right, everyone out. It’s time for Professor Snape to rest.”

“I’ll stay with him tonight,” Mr Malfoy said, and moved to stand beside his godfather.

Mr Black didn’t complain, but hustled Mr Potter out of the room before he could say anything.

Poppy shooed everyone else out, then turned for a last look at her patient. Mr Malfoy had fallen to his knees in front of Severus, leaning against his legs.

And as she watched, Fawkes shifted so that his long tail feathers were draped comfortingly over Mr Malfoy’s shoulder.  

Darkness. Black and total. Inky and impenetrable.

He was safe in the darkness.

And yet still they found him, their taunts and jeers pecking away at him like the sharp beak of an eagle or a hippogriff, tearing off little pieces that he’d never get back, no matter how quickly he snatched at them.

His cries to scare them off came out tinny and weak, perilously close to a tearful whine, while theirs bounced off the echoes, building and multiplying until he could hear nothing else, not even the breath in his lungs.

He drew himself in, curled into the tightest ball he could manage, pulled the darkness around himself like a curtain, but still it wasn’t enough to hide him.

He flailed out with his arms, trying to beat them back, to push them away, to lash out and tear blood-drenched strips from them, but somehow the strips were torn from him instead and left him ragged and bleeding, although there was no outward sign of it.

The darkness suddenly expanded around him, a yawning chasm that threatened to swallow him whole.

He retreated into a ball, cried out for mercy, tried to squeeze himself ever smaller so that he might become invisible and the darkness not find him.

But just as it was poised above him, sharp teeth ready to tear him apart, a golden melody floated through the dark.

It burned like fire, and wherever it touched, the darkness retreated, squalling in pain.

The melody wrapped around him, soothing his agony and covering him so that he was safe from the torment of the dark.

Finally relaxing, he curled himself through the melody and slept.