The man kneeling in a black cloak on the floor of the immaculate Headmaster's office was shivering violently. Not far behind him a sneak-o-scope whirred quietly on a bookshelf. Other magical gadgetry was strewn – by either the artistic or the absent-minded – keeping a watchful mechanical eye on the ragged soggy heap of a human dripping on the rug.
That man, Severus Snape, did not care for the immaculate rug, nor did he care about the house-elf who would later clean it.
He cared that it felt like a dagger had been plunged through his very core. He cared that, three weeks too late, he had found the old Potter house in Godric's Hollow had been profaned at his Lord's orders and every bit of Lily's memory – her home and last belongings – left gutted like a fish.
He cared that the vestiges of her person in life were being cruelly torn away from his ever more desperate fingers. So little remained…so little.
He felt as though his sanity had gone with her passing, only her memory kept him from floating away into madness. But memory was not kind.
Lily's presence grated like dull blade on his thoughts, her disdain for him. It was then that the fireplace flared green.
Snape's shivering did not abate, but his eyes opened suddenly.
"What," broadcasted the Headmaster's voice, "in Helga Hufflepuff's good name, caused you to call me from a very important meeting with the school board?"
"I – " the man still crouched on the floor seemed daunted by the bearded man's superior stance. His usual reaction to such posturing – a sneer – was not to be seen.
"Yes?" The wizard could not be blind to the obvious suffering on the visage before him but his attitude of studied impatience did not change.
"Albus…please. I cannot."
"You gave me your word. Are you a liar, Severus?"
"YES," snarled the man.
"Then are you a coward as well?"
"To cowardly to do what ought to be."
"And what is that?"
"Kill me."
The trembling was increasing now and the man missed how Albus' eyes changed in this moment. "No, Severus."
"You must…she…her presence is gone…they've destroyed it all….her clothes, her things…you must." The obvious agony of the man was enough to keep his words from being laughable. He clutched at his sides, rocking like a man undergoing torment.
"I will not kill you, Severus."
"I am nothing."
"Get up!" The Headmaster grabbed at the shivering man, hoisting him vertical with one good heave. He was stronger than his age belied. His hand came away red and wet. "You are wounded. Did you do this?"
The man was nearly hyperventilating but shook his head 'no'.
"Your master, then?" When he received no response, he strode swiftly to the fireplace, blew a pinch of violet powder from his palm into the flame and called very softly "Madame Pomfrey".
The harsh breathing of Snape ceased at this. His coal-black eyes revealed themselves. "No, Albus."
"I have a meeting to return to, Severus."
"NO, Albus" When this produced no effect, he kept on: "Perhaps it is you who are the coward. Perhaps you merely wish to keep from muddying your righteous name, Dumbledore. This wound is not enough to kill, but its neglect may save me."
Albus sighed wearily. He face seemed older than it had moments ago. "How many times, Severus? I will not kill you. Even if I wished to, I have no claim over your life. My authority stems from your vow, YOURS, which you gave me willingly."
The man's was pale at last. "Please."
"No. You will be restored to health. And I will return to what's left of my meeting."
"I WILL NOT!" Snape's face twisted with rage.
Dumbledore could exert a power of his own, when he wished, and it was great. "If I should hear a poor report from Madame Pomfrey you will not like the consequences, Severus. This is still my school." And with this the softest of threats he came to the fireplace. "Remember yourself, Severus. There is more that is of value than just Lily, in the world." Then he stepped through and in a flash of green, was gone.
Snape fell into a chair as a puppet without strings. His eyes half-lidded, he regarded the objects about him with as much interest as he would give a fly. His pose did not flinch, nor did he hear Madame Pomfrey enter but he felt her hand upon his shoulder and her practiced tone working to bring him back to conscious thought.
There was no relief for he who wished the most for it.
At his apparent indifference, Pomfrey set about her skills. Even the sting of it could hardly move him, though tears gathered and could not be suppressed to fall.
At long last he heard her voice more clearly. "Sleep, Severus. You've had quite a shock."
He turned dull eyes to her tired grey ones. Her wand danced in an enchantment of drowsiness. He did not care where he would wake up. He did not care if he were ever to wake up at all. Time seemed caught, a fly in a web, trapped in the present. Pomfrey would concern herself with things if she wished.
For a blessed moment he no longer felt the agony Lily had cost him, and then he fell mercifully into sleep.