The seven teenagers stand still around the now extinguished hearth with varying expressions on their faces. None dare to comment on the exchange between the school matron and the Gryffindor Head of house, nor look away from the stained spots on the carpet.


“That does not -“

“Look good at all.” The Weasley exchange looks with each other.

“Do you think all that blood is-” Ron shivers.

“Should we follow?” Hermione looks back at the others and steals a glance from Malfoy, the Slytherin frozen stiff like a marble statue, but you can still see the slight trembling at his shoulders, his eyes unblinking and wide open, and a suspicious glint that seems to be forcing its way out at the corner of his eyes.


Harry, who suddenly found himself on the floor, surrounded by reaper gravestones, panting heavily while seeing the bloodstains on the carpet seeping towards him, he squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to block off the unpleasant feeling bubbling up in his chest.


“Harrykins, breathe” Fred, or George kneels beside him, running a hand across his back, “You are back here, in Hogwarts.”


He’s dying because of you! The words Malfoy shouted at him days ago echo with his own voice.


Despite what Amos Diggory told him that night at the end of the tournament, he’ll never forget the look the man gave him in the infirmary.


“Maybe we should find Dumbledore.” Ginny says, just when she’s about to walk towards the exit, someone shoves her aside and makes a beeline towards the fireplace.

“Incendio!” Draco Malfoy jabs his wand towards the charred logs, repeating a few times when not even a spark of fire comes up.

“Oi ferret face! Watch what you’re doing!”

The Slytherin ignores him and continues to scream at the fireplace.

“Malfoy, Slytherins can’t access the floo in the Gryffindor common room.” George says.

“Then you bloody do it!” Draco snaps his head towards the older Weasleys along with his wand, his breath haggard and looking disheveled as if he had just rolled down a hill, tears obviously pooling in those murderous eyes.

“Calm down snakey -”

“If McGonagall shut it down -”

“None of us can use it.” Fred subtly moves George half a step behind him by the arm.


There is a loud bang when Alastor Moody wrenches the common room door open, earning a loud shriek from the fat lady as well as a sound of broken glass in the portrait. “What is going on here!” His magical eye eerily still and lands its electric gaze on the young Slytherin, the man immediately makes a move and tackles the boy onto the floor, hand clamping onto the shoulder with the wooden leg on the now wandless hand.

“LET ME GO!” Draco shouts, struggling against the retired Auror like a caged animal.

The rest of the order members run into the room, carefully avoiding the conflict and towards the other children, Mrs. Weasley tries to usher the kids out of the scene “I said we will handle it!” she urges in a hushed tone while pushing her children, including Harry towards the staircase, stifling any arguments. Remus and Sirius practically manhandled Harry up along with his friends.

“But Sirius — !”

“Cub, I don’t think it is wise to do anything right now.” Remus says.

“Off to bed kid.” Sirius tugs both of them along.

The yelling dampens as the group ascends the stairs, reaching Harry’s room where they settle themselves onto the beds.

After a pregnant pause as the Weasleys, all try to sit near him, forming a protective circle within the now cramped room, Harry decides to break the silence.


“So…” Harry leans onto Sirius’s arm, “What are you guys in a meeting for?”

The adults surrounding them seem to look shocked for a moment, directing a quick glance at Ron and Hermione behind him, before turning it back to Harry.

“Well, Dumbledore —”

“Oh no you don’t Sirius Black! Albus said it specifically!” Mrs. Weasley effectively cuts off Sirius, her hands perched on her hips. “He’s only a child! A fifteen-year-old child!”

“He’s involved already! Shouldn’t he know about it if he has to fight?” He shouts back, arms tightening around Harry’s shoulders.

“What fight? Voldermort?”

“NO! YOU ARE NOT FIGHTING!” Mrs. Weasley screams, causing Harry to recoil at the shrill voice.

“But-”

“Harry listen to me,” Mrs. Weasley kneels in front of him with both of her palms gripping onto Harry’s, ignoring the glare Sirius is giving her, “You just need to focus on school, on life, be happy, leave the fighting to us adults, okay? You are just child!” she says, trembling, and borderline hysterical.

Something broke in Harry at the mention of “just a child”, Cedric, who was only two years older than him, he was technically a kid too, just months short from adulthood if he didn't join the tournament. He died because of him, “The boy who lived”. While Harry couldn’t do anything but watch him fall as “a spare”. And seeing the bluish specters of his parents alongside his friend only reminded him more of his faults.


A savior that can’t save.


“I’M NOT A CHILD ANYMORE!’ Harry shoots up from his bed, “How am I supposed to sit back, while people are dead! Dying! Because of me!

“Harry…” Hermione reaches out.

“You knew all this don’t you, you and Ron?” Harry turns accusingly toward his best friends, “I’m involved, it always has something to do with me, but I don’t get to know anything! Nothing!”

“We are just trying to protect you mate! Really!” Ron pleads

“Not writing to me is part of protection, I see.” Harry laughs bitterly, “You saw how I was before summer, but none of you bother to ask how I am?”

“Professor Dumbledore said it’s risky! We just don’t want your location to be found out by You-Know-Who!”

Harry pauses at that, Dumbledore is protecting him, his friends are protecting him, and the blood wards are protecting him. Everything everyone is doing is supposed to be protecting him, right?


Even Snape.


But gods, Harry brings his arms around himself, trying to hide from the concerned looks from the people around him I'm so weak, so…lonely.


Roughly wiping off the frustrated tears, he breathes out.

“Fifteen or not, If I’m supposed to defeat him, then I will fight, I’m not a coward.” Harry declares.

“No, cub, you are not.” Remus stands up, intense gaze meeting the boy’s.


[ You are not ]


Harry nods and gives him a strained smile, “Fred, George, mind if I stay in your room tonight?”

“Anything for you, brother.” the twins push away from the wall they’re leaning on and leads Harry out of the door.

He hears the quiet sniffles from both Hermione and Mrs. Weasley as the door clicks shut, it hurt him to say it, to his best friends and to one of the people who care for him like a son, but they don’t understand. He needs to do this alone, so he won't drag anyone down with him.


And you are walking away, like a coward.


[ You need space, and they need time to understand. ]


The silver slowly warms up Harry’s still trembling hands through the pocket.

Harry can’t be more grateful to have such a creepy yet reassuring artifact exists.

“Well Harrykins, you’re stuck with us.” Fred says, motioning him to sit on Lee’s bed.

“Don’t mind Mom, she gets all riled up when it comes to Order meetings”

“We are both of age, but as long as Mom has a say in it, we’d never get to join the fight either.”

Harry feels his lips tug up at the seamless exchange and lets out a sigh, “Thanks guys, appreciate it.”

“But worry not, our favorite secret sponsor! ” George puffs up dramatically.

“We might or might not have invented something for this special occasion.”

With that, Harry spent at least an hour or so listening to the twins’ explanation of the “Extendable ears”, as well as testing it out by throwing it toward a red towel on the other side of the room for “target practice for possible future missions”, before all three of them proclaiming they should rest.

Hearing the twin snoring lightly, Harry sit up from bed and looks out to the bright crescent moon hanging in the dark sky. He quietly leaves the room, careful not to make a sound as he shuts the door, then walks to the end of the corner of that floor, with Draco Malfoy's yells still lingering around him. Something about it bothers him, as he is certain if Sirius is the one incapacitated, Snape would have cheered on it, Malfoy gloating how he has no one. Heck, the fact that Snape can be someone's godfather already baffles him, let alone in a close relationship. Lily Potter, his mum, everyone told him about how kind she was, Dumbledore saying how her love made him won against Voldermort, the time he saw her in the Mirror of Erised, she stood there alongside dad, just as beautiful as people described her, but at the same time, she's supposed to be buddies with Snape? A complete contrast to her, and only scowls and mocks when Harry is in the man's presence? Harry thinks reality likes to flip so much that nothing makes sense to him anymore.

“Dobby?” He whispers into the air.

Dobby pops into view without the loud crack, his big eyes gleaming with admiration even during late hours into the night, his ears flop with excitement at the sight of the boy and leaps forward, wrapping himself around the boy’s legs.

“Harry Potter is safe! Dobby is glad to see you! Dobby is missing you very much!”

“Shhh, Dobby is quiet.” Harry gestures a finger at his lips, then drops down and hugs the elf, “I missed you too.”

Dobby squeals, quietly, in delight.

“I need you to do me a favor Dobby, can you check if people in my room are asleep, and if they are, help me get my invisible cloak please? Don’t get noticed.”

“Dobby will dos as Master Harry wishes! Dobby will get it straight away!”

In mere seconds, Dobby pops back into view, with his small hands blending into the unlit surroundings, eagerly holding up to him.

“What is Harry Potter needing his cloak for?” Curious green eyes blinking.

Harry twists the soft fabric between his fingers, trying to figure out what exactly is he thinking or feeling these few days. I’m not doing this for Malfoy. Harry recalls the look of desperation and panic on his nemesis’ face.

“I need to know.” He tells Dobby and himself, determinedly “They are here because of me, but they can’t shield me forever.”

Dobby tilts his head to the side with one ear standing up, “Dobby is not understanding, but Dobby will be here if Harry Potter needs any help.”

“Dobby, I have to do this on my own, but thank you for being a great friend.” He pats the elf on the head, who is at the brink of tears, with a silent farewell Harry throws the invisibility cloak over himself and slowly tip toe down to the common room.

There’s only a single Lumos shining from Moody’s wand in the black space, who seems to be somewhat sleeping like the others despite sitting up straight with both of his arms on the wooden cane. He carefully maneuvers around the furniture and out of the magical eye’s sight towards a tied-up Malfoy, now slumping against the bookshelf on the floor next to Tonks. Another Auror, he remembers.

He crouches down, behind the sofa Moody is occupying and pokes Slytherin's arm. Who immediately jolts awake, and squints to refocus in the dark.Harry reveals the same white slippers he’s been wearing lately, “Come with me.” he whispers when Malfoy’s eyes widen in recognition and wariness.

“Can’t” The other boy mouths, jerking his head at the restraints around his body.

Harry raises his head, and after making sure that everyone is still asleep, he cautiously raises his wand “Finite incantem” he whispers, and the ropes snap, pooling onto the floor. At the same time Moody lets out a grunt in his sleep, the boys promptly freeze and stop breathing.

Both of their tensed shoulders sag when the magical eye goes still again, “Your wand?” Harry asks.

Malfoy mutely looks at Tonks’s pocket with a scowl, “Just go.” he hisses.

After what felt like a lifetime of trying to go through the hardest obstacle course, they finally make it out beyond the common room, out to the grand staircase, it seems to have felt the two’s urgency as the rest of the staircase below stays still, paving a way to the infirmary.

“Why are you helping me?” Malfoy asks, like he's out of his mind

“The world doesn't revolve around you, Malfoy.” Harry quotes a certain potions master. “I need answers.”

Malfoy looks at him incredulously and speaks no more.

Only their rhythmic breathing accompanied them as they go down the endless spiral.

---

“Luciussssss…” the Dark Lords’ call is barely above a murmur, but it isn’t any less of a threat in the just arrived man's ears.

“My Lord, you wished to see me.” Lucius kneels low, showing his neck to present himself as vulnerable as possible. Seeing that no others are in the same room, he is under heavy suspicion, and very likely to be tortured.

“Where…have you been.”

“At the Manor, as you have ordered.” The patriarch hesitantly raises his eyes at the fatigued voice.

With a wave of his hand, the sleeve in Lucius's marked arm rolls up on its own, and the half-faded skull and serpent on display

The man on the throne narrows his eyes and beckons him forward, grabbing Lucius’ chin with shaking hands to meet his blood-red eyes. He feels the dark lord trying to go through his mind, but instead of feeling stabbed, his occlumency shield is merely pricked by a needle. The sharp presence continues to press through before Lucius loosens his grip and let him through into a memory of him dining with his family, but it's clear that it isn't the answer he is intending to search for. The prickling sensation doesn't last long as it retracts quickly, they are now back in the gloomy room, with the Dark Lord panting heavily.

“My lord are you -”

“CRUCIO!”

While Lucius steels himself from the incoming pain, he isn’t expecting the red stream of light to trickle down and dissipates onto the floor in front of his knees.

The Dark Lord looks visibly bewildered and enraged. Lucius is equally stunned, the all-powerful man he has been following for decades is slouching against the armrest, with balled fist against his face; the first time Lucius has seen a sign of weakness from him.

“Shall I call for Narcissa, my lord?”

“That wretched half-blood, he had me fooled.” the Dark Lord growls, hate and murderous intent evident in those lidded ruby eyes.

“Severus?” Lucius asks with faux shock. “My apologies my lord! I thought he would be grateful for your reacceptance!”

“He dares poison… me –” the man groans again, leaning further onto the side of the chair “I, Lord Voldermort, who gave him everything!”

The Malfoy Patriarch is blaming his friend for his predicament, as well as impressed at whatever he seems to have achieved on the Dark Lord.

“May I have your permission to bring Narcissa, my lord?” he absolutely detest the idea of bring his wife to this mess, but he needs to keep this up.

The man on the throne waves him out. In moments, Narcissa walks through the worn-down fireplace, giving Lucius a tight squeeze on his arm before bowing reverently at the lord, pulling her wand out to do a quick scan.

“Dare I ask my lord, did you consume any potions that might be related to energy replenishers?” Narcissa keeps her head bowed.

“That draft… Draft of Transference…”

Narcissa pauses for a moment, before snapping her head up, “Who else? My lord?”

The Dark Lord gives Lucius a pointed look, in which he quickly lists off who was called to participate in the ritual a few nights prior to his wife, including

“They’ll need energy replenishers, that will in turn feed it back to our lord.”

The man nods, "Narcissa, tell me about the Black dagger."

Narcissa looks at both of them, there was a flash of pain, before being buried deep by a thick layer of ice.

She recites the heirloom history and its usage, while the dark lord doesn’t react much at first, his grin grows wider and more manic as Narcissa continues to explain.

“So much for being a potions prodigy, he brews his own death, I shall accomplice that wish tenfold.” the man laughs. “I shall find a replacement to guide our aspiring Slytherins.”

Both Malfoy displays the same mirth, yet their hearts unanimously lurch at what is going to happen, as they were sent off to administer the potions to the others recovering at the manor.

“Lucius…” Narcissa breathes.

“Cissa, we will go back as soon as we are done here. Draco is safe. Then we will leave the isles together.” Lucius pulls his wife into a tight embrace as they reached the end of a long hall way.

“I know, but…”


Family Draco and Narcissa come first.


“Let’s just finish this quickly.”

As the lasts of the residents slowly recover, feeding their energy back to their lord, the serpentine man gladly vents his anger upon the inner circle with his renewed energy, using the recolored Dark mark and sending pulses towards all of them as he savours the scene of black veins sending pain all over their twitching bodies, like a carnival show. Luckily both Narcissa and himself are exonerated from the torture session, with Lucius getting a cut on his face as a warning should he keep in touch with the traitor.

They leave the manor together, turning their backs on shouts of Crucio and tormented screams.

The crescent moon shines bright tonight.

---

The first thing Minerva notice as she’s being dragged into the infirmary is the dreadfully familiar metallic smell, not just from her blood-stained sleeves, nor Poppy’s Nurses gown.

The infirmary is dimly lit except for the spot where Severus’s bed is, she sees Albus standing near the footboard, hands griping onto the metal, and seemingly having a quiet conversation. Behind her, Poppy is frenziedly gathering jars, plasters, and smaller towels, pushing some of them into Minerva’s arms, then stomping out of the office, leaving Minerva to fumble with the items.

“Albus if you aren’t helping, step aside.” Poppy snaps, Minerva can’t help but feel shocked at her tone, but then again, the situation is probably quite dire.

“Poppy, you must understand, I have to —”

“NO ALBUS I DO NOT!” Poppy whips back behind the partition, “He’s already in pain, what more do you want!”

With that said, Minerva quickly levitates the rest of the supplies behind her and rushes toward them, Albus visibly lightens up when he sees her, “Minerva, please–”.

She almost dropped all of the levitated objects behind as soon as she steps into view, the smell of blood attacking her full force.

The wound at Severus’s side looks like it was torn open by force, black veins that were supposed to have disappeared from a few days ago now spreading into an even larger web up to his left chest, blood constantly flooding out from the edges wound, staining most of the hospital gown, the bedsheet, the blanket that was roughly thrown to the edge, dripping onto a large puddle of red on the floor, blood traveling along the creases between the stone tiles on the floor.

Severus’s skin by now is translucent, he’s already unhealthily pale normally, now it seems like there’s not even a drop of blood left on his face. A shimmering layer of sweat all over the exposed body, tremors coursing all over him, his chest is barely moving, the only indication that he’s alive at all is the occasional moaning, as well as his feverish eyes wandering somewhere, occasionally squeezing shut and a shout when Poppy applies more pressure and dittany onto the injury.

Minerva immediately sets the medical supplies onto the table next to Poppy, pushing past Albus towards the chair next to the bed and taking Severus’s freezing hand into hers. Thankfully Albus stops talking.

“Merlin… why did it…” Minerva chokes out. “Oh, Severus.”

Poppy moves one hand away from the towel, and grabs a different vial, directly pouring it onto the wound, which the man screams silently, and all Minerva can do is hold his hand tighter, as if that is any resemblance of comfort, he in turn grips onto her's like a lifeline.

“Don’t sleep yet, keep them open.” Poppy pats the pale face, trying to make him focus, she looks at Minerva, urging her to catch the man’s attention.

“Severus, Severus, can you hear me?” She gently shakes the man’s shoulder while tightening her hold onto his hand, hoping he will feel the pressure.

She sees how the man’s eyes float aimlessly in waves of pain, from the ceiling, the bed next to him, to the stack of towels, and eventually find their way to herself again. After a moment, realization sparks in those hazy onyx orbs, even those shaking, taxing just to keep his eyes still.

“Minerva.” He rasps

“I’m here.” She gives him an encouraging smile.

“Minerva, my girl —”

“Why isn’t he at St. Mungo’s curse injury department already?” Minerva pulls herself together as she asks, eyes never leaving the younger colleague.

“You know I cannot do that, and it pains me so,” Albus replies.

“Nonsense!” Poppy shouts her exact thought back at Albus, “ If you are worried about him being marked, the healers there won’t care, they are obligated to heal anyone! I can ask my friend over for help!”

“Poppy, the world does not believe Tom has returned,” Albus attempts to placate her, “Even so, the Ministry is well aware that Severus is a Death eater, they might send him straight to Azkaban for possible illegal activities.”

“He is a wizard, one of those people you are vowing to save, Albus Dumbledore. He himself is trying to save us back.” Minerva declares.


The Headmaster looks at her, emotionless, not a twinkle in his eye.


“We cannot send a Death eater from Hogwarts, Minerva. The public is already doubting us, sacrifices must be made for the greater good, and we can't risk more of their faith.”


Minerva feels a deep resentment cutting through the life-long friendship and trust between herself and her mentor, just as she’s about to explode, cold fingers grips her hand. Severus, who seems slightly aware, looks at Albus, then zones back at her serenely and blinks once.

He understands what Albus must do, as there’s something recognizable in his eyes:

Resignation? Defeat?


Acceptance?


“No.” Poppy pulls her attention back, vehemently shaking her head, “No, I will go to St. Mungo’s, I’ll ask for supplies, and maybe some extra help, DON’T ALBUS! I’M A HEALER, AND I DON’T JUST STAND ASIDE WHEN SOMEONE IS IN NEED.”

There is a tense silence before Minerva feels Severus’s hand goes rigid, his eyes wide, and starts shaking harder.

“Severus? Do you need -”


The was a loud crack and a muffled scream against the pillow, his breath sounds even more pained with a terrible wheezing noise. As Poppy immediately scans across his chest, she notices the flesh nearest to the center of the veins starts to bruise, deep purple blooming on the pale skin. And both women came to a horrible realization:


The curse is breaking the closest bones.

And if it continues upwards the ribs…

His heart will be impaled.


Poppy quickly mutters a spell, mending the rib bone together, the colored patch fades, yet the bone beneath can’t seem to be mended back to its shape.

“Where’s Lady Malfoy?” Poppy asks, horrified by the situation.

“They were sent away.”

The matron throws the bloody towel on the floor, and reaches for a clean one “Then go get her back.” She commands coldly.

Albus opens his mouth before shutting it again, then walks out of the infirmary.

“Severus, stay awake alright? You can do this.” Poppy presses another towel while pouring another vial onto the wound. “Minnie keep talking to him.”

Minerva's heart sinks when he goes silent, not even a whimper for an entire minute, but he finally finds his way back.

“...As you wish… Madame…” he says, trying to pull a smirk despite all.

But in Minerva’s eyes, it resembles the rare, small, but the gentle smile she had seen when he was still a young lad.


And it breaks her heart.


“Severus, we still have a bet going, and you have yet to drink with me this month, don’t bail on me now.”

There is a slight frown of confusion on his pained face, finally noticing Poppy isn’t the one talking.

“Minerva?” he asks, forgetting that she is next to him.

“That’s me.” She replies, now sandwiching his hand into hers, hoping it can provide some warmth.

He stares and assesses her face, taking a shaky breath, he composes his face into the usual frown.

“You again, oh joy.”

Both Minerva and Poppy chuckle wetly at that.

“Must you insult me at midnight too?” She retorts, leaning forward to make sure he can see her face.

Severus huffs, and his eyes move to the right.

“...Keep you on your toes.”

“Well, you are doing a great job with that then.”

He hums, but his body goes rigid once more, his body involuntarily arches up despite Poppy’s best efforts to hold him still. A crack louder than before, another strangled yell.

“Osto Popraviti!” Poppy points the wand at the ribs again, noting how the veins are climbing up towards his left shoulder, linking with those that have completely covered the marked arm in black.

Severus convulses and coughs up a mouthful of blood, two trails of crimson trickling down to his ears.

“Minnie hold him up!” Poppy moves her wand upwards to the center of where the man’s lungs are, with a flick of her wand, blood spilling from his mouth, while Minerva gently rubs circles at the writhing man’s back, tears welling up in both of their eyes.

“You are doing fine Severus, everything will be alright.” She comforts the man who is now half leaning against her, struggling to keep his head up, either quaking in pain or in fear. Splotches of blood staining more of the green coat. "It's moving up fast, a stasis charm? Petrificus? Anything?"

"Those only work on nerve levels, not with organs, nor curse wounds." Poppy stands still at the opposite side of the bed, observing the carnage in front of her, she had certainly seen worse in her years of being a Healer, but there hasn’t been one case that shook her like now. Should she stay? Minerva might have basic first-aid knowledge As Head of House, but it's less than enough for such circumstances.

"...try... my counterspell..." Severus struggles out.

"The one Malfoy uses? I unsure of the incantation." Poppy's eyes light up.

"Vulnera... Sanentur...three times."

The school nurse quickly mutters the spell, some of the blood retracts back into the large gash at the center of the veins, thought the wound doesn't knit itself together, the blood no longer gushes out, slowing down to a steady trail, and the two mended bones seems to move back to their original place.

"It's not stopping, but I assume the curse has to do with blood," She bites onto the blood-stained fingernails, brows brought tightly together as if she is trying to solve a huge dilemma " I'll rush to St. Mungos and call for an emergency, but you two will need to help me buy time.” She presses another towel onto the gash.

“Poppy, Albus constricted the wards days ago!” Minerva takes the stained cloth from Poppy's grasp and gently increases the pressure.

“I don’t care if I have to run to Hogsmeade just to get a floo, or fly to London,” Poppy pauses to catch a breath, “I’ll get help, wait for me okay? Severus Tobias Snape you better stay awake!”

Missing the weak nod from the man, Poppy runs out of the infirmary with her leather bag in tow, unbothered to clean of the blood all over herself.


The deafening silence that is only broken by pained gasps and erratic breathing.

“The muggle injection for the pain you used before, maybe I can —”

“No.” Severus looks at her, eyes sparkling with rare emotion. “Please.”


The unspoken “Stay” is loud and clear in her ears.


“I can summon Mipsy to get it.”

He shakes his head “I want to be… clear… for this.”

She nods, remembering the side effects.

“Hey.” Minerva calls out, seeing how Severus’s eyes are starting to go dull, “better not lose focus.”

The young colleague seems to have found his way back into the infirmary through the fog. He forcefully wipes the pain off his face and raises one brow weakly.

“Why am I in second year… transfiguration class…”

“Not if you keep looking around, no.”

The shaking seems to have gone worse, “Cold?” She asks, and spells the nearby blanket onto him as gently as possible before he even replied.


“Potter?”

Minerva looks at her colleague, pained, but focused.

“He's probably in bed.”

“Malfoy?”

“Them too.” A twinge of guilt rises in Minerva’s chest.


Severus looks around, searching the bloody ground to Poppy's office, to the moon hanging outside the window.

"Do you... have my wand?"

Minerva shakes her head, knowing that Albus kept it in his office drawer, who said he will return it when the spy has recovered.

Severus frowns at that, purses his lips and averts his gaze, looking across empty nightstands in the infirmary, his hand clenching and relaxing, trying to get a hold of his wand in the air.

“Since we are on the wait, how about some poetry.” Minerva tries to bring up one of their favorite topics during their drinking sessions, hopefully distracting Severus from his unease and pain.

That somewhat catches the man’s attention, as there is a trace of a half-smile.

“Don’t tell me… Witch Weekly.”

“I don’t mean those fakes hired by Tobias Misslethrope.”


For some reason, Severus flinches at the name.


“How about a poem from Dylan Thomas?”

Severus, through excruciating slow breaths, raises his head to meet her eyes, questioning.

“You know muggle ones?”

Seeing how her friend is bleeding out in front of her, while ribs are snapped one by one is already overwhelming, yet hearing how he forgets the starting point of their friendship is unbearable.

“You gave me a book during Yule, your second year as a professor at Hogwarts.” Minerva halts when she feels like her voice is going to give out at the disoriented look, “You gave me ‘Selected Poems By Dylan Thomas’” She speaks out each word of the title as clearly as possible, hoping he would remember.


After a moment, he nods in understanding.


“But then, months ago, you told me he wasn’t your favorite poet, and we had a debate over it.” She smiles fondly at the memory, they were drinking, and he was starting to get tipsy at that point, and he proceeds to write a two-foot-long essay on why he then likes another Blake poem better in front of her as they argue.

Severus moves his eyes upwards, looking back and forth at the ceiling. Then, his breath hitched, getting more and more frantic.


CRACK.


Too weak to contain himself any longer, he Severus lets out a harrowing scream, and a sob escapes from Minerva's clenched mouth, the dazed fearful eyes are starting to roam with increased restlessness, to the footboard, the stone tiles, and the elongated windows.

“Severus, look at me.”

He doesn’t respond, he can’t respond, his frail breathing quickening like a panicked animal. He looks everywhere, nowhere, then recognizing something familiar between the jumbled reality he stills, eyes widening at whatever has appeared in front of his eyes.

“Severus, don’t look over there, look at me.” Minerva clutches his shoulder, hugging him just above his chest.

Her friend finally looks at her again, still quivering.


“...because…”

“Yes?”

Severus breathes unsteadily, holding on to whatever is left.

“...Because, the night has always been gentle for me…”

Painfully ironic, as the grave man in front of her is raging against the dying of his light.

Minerva hugs him closer, like a mother comforting her son after a nightmare.

“I’m fine,” he whispers, with a familiar hint of annoyance, blood dripping down from his chin.

Minerva pulls herself together, and forces a chuckle, “ Don't worry, Poppy will be back soon, maybe dragging Albus and the Malfoy's with her by the ear”

Severus look her shoulder, or maybe at the infirmary door.

“Don’t find… Slughorn.”

“Hmm?”

“Slytherin… the children.”

“Severus, no.”

“He’s” Severus rasps “incompetent pig…”

“That’s why you need to be there for them.”

“Please…” Severus's voice starts to tremble “they are children.”

“I know, Severus, I know.”

“Her son —”


CRACK.


Tears are flooding from the usually impassive eyes as he sobs in agony, yet stubbornly clinging onto his eyelashes.

“Shhh, you’re okay, you’re okay.” Minerva feels like she’s only comforting herself at this point

“Watch him...” he speaks between wheezing in pain “watch him… don't send him back...”

“Of course, I promise, Severus, but you have to watch over him with me."


He’s shaking like a leaf in a storm, like a starving stray in a blizzard.


He looks at the crescent moon, the shaking eases as he starts to calm down.

“The sun is rising.” He says, this time sober, his voice steady like it's one of their breakfast conversations at the head table. "it's... beautiful..."

Minerva turns and looks, the sky is still black, the crescent moon is touching the peak of a mountain, the white arc smiling widely at them through the window, its light streaming through the glass onto them, draping over him like a blanket.

“Indeed” Minerva assures.


"Thank you."


She turns back, Severus’s half-opened black eyes are still seizing the moon.


But the life in it is gone, flowing out along the single streak of tears


“Severus?” She shakes the man, whose head was leaning against her chest, now rolls to the left onto her arm.


No.


She grips onto his hand, technically crushing it at this point, hoping the pressure would get his attention.

The hand is relaxed, not trembling at the slightest, and cold as ice.

“No…No… don't.”

She turns Severus’s face back to herself, hugging him close, thinking that he’s just cold, dark voids staring into things that no longer belong to this world


She ignores it when she hears another person’s anguished cry behind him, one choked, and the other’s shocked gasps and murmuring.

She ignores the sound of boots quickly clicking against the stone tile through the crowd behind her, before a figure slowly falls onto her knees at the opposite side of the bed, holding the blackened hand against her face.

She ignores as three more people came in, two coming to a halt at the sight, leaning against the other as she weeps silently into his black cloak.

And when the tip of the sun finally breaks upon the horizon, harsh lines of sunlight come through the window above the bed, covering the man’s face.

She let her tears fall, head touching the man’s still chest, and wails.