A Forest Meeting

Tonight had been hard. He knew he was bleeding, but he was just too tired to investigate. It was not even an injury brought on by his own mistakes—Lord Voldemort had just been very angry tonight.

Everyone had suffered—some more than others. He had survived by providing what the Dark Lord had demanded from him—and that had granted him some respite.

It would be short-lived however. Voldemort had, in return, demanded three difficult potions to be delivered to him tomorrow evening.

Severus had nearly pleaded with him—there had been six Death-Eater meetings in two weeks, and a list of required potions that had pushed him nearly to his knees. He had spent every night stooped over his cauldron, and every day cooped up in his classroom, teaching. There was a pile of marking on his desk that was increasing with every day that went past—and the new Headmistress was not particularly sympathetic, as she did not know about Severus' other commitments.

He was exhausted, irritable and empty. There was a limit.

And the Headmaster was gone. He had been gone for twenty three days, ousted by Dolores Umbridge.

Severus liked to pretend he was independent. He did not need anyone—he was happy to be on his own and fight his own battles. But. He was certainly noticing Albus Dumbledore's absence.

Albus would have understood. He would see how worn Severus was, and would let him take time off. He would have had to fight Severus to force him to have that time, but he would have still won in the end. Severus was not yet used to having someone so concerned about his well being—because it was important for the greater good, of course—but now that it was gone, he found himself missing the comments at breakfast when Severus showed his face, and the constant invites for tea in Albus' office.

He was so tired, tonight. He felt as though he could fall asleep where he stood, brushing a hand across his face. He had reached the edge of the grounds that surrounded Riddle Mansion—now he could Apparate to the Forbidden Forest and walk the rest of the way.

He paused, yawning and glancing down at his leg. He could not yet bring himself to look at the tear in his muscle. His shoulders were aching from bending over his cauldron. He had spent so much time working by candlelight that he had forgotten what daylight actually looked like. He needed to sleep.

But the Dark Lord had demanded an Invisibility Potion for tomorrow evening—an Invisibility Potion! Of all things!

He Disapparated, just as pain lanced through his forehead. It disrupted his concentration—and thus, his Apparation was no longer elegant. He staggered forward, catching himself before he fell. He raised his head, trying to fight the nausea that a rough Apparation had created.

This was an unfamiliar part of the Forbidden Forest, he mused. He looked around—he was not aware of so many oak trees in a forest that was composed of mainly pressing, dark pine trees and those that lost their leaves and never seemed to regain them.

Golden oak trees, on the other hand...maybe he had fallen asleep and this was a dream? The pain in his leg suggested otherwise...he started to wander forward, not willing to Apparate again until his stomach had settled down. There was very little wind or sound around him—there was a rustling of leaves. He turned his head, but saw nothing.

He continued to walk for another five minutes, not particularly concentrating on his surroundings, trying to remember how to stay awake.

Another rustle. He turned, quicker this time, still to see nothing. Maybe this was all in his imagination?

Nevertheless, his hand rested on his wand.

He staggered, tripping over a branch that he had not seen lying on the ground. His reactions were not quite quick enough, and he hit the ground heavily. Mud stained his knees and the palms of his hands. He growled to himself, just wanting to go back to Hogwarts and sink into his bed—a Pepper-Up potion would be required.

He had consumed far too many of them this part fortnight. Was an addiction possible? Was that why he was so tired? His mind was wandering—he was not sure how he would be able to produce a potion of such complication tonight...

He grabbed his wand and pointed it at the bushes. His sensitive instincts, honed by many years of teasing by the Marauders, had identified and located the rustling noise. "Show yourself!"

There was silence for a moment—before a burst of red and gold erupted from the bushes. Severus drew back, "Fawkes!"

The phoenix, affronted by the fact Severus had pointed a wand at him, landed on a branch far out of reach and stared at the wizard. Severus climbed back to his feet, a slight smile curling his lips as he examined the familiar bird. "I knew that someone was following me. What are you doing here?"

He was clearly not expecting the bird to respond—"I might ask the same question of you, Severus."

Severus whirled on the spot, and was met with Albus Dumbledore, who smiled at him in greeting. "It has been a while, has it not, dear boy?"

"Headmaster." Severus murmured, "What are you doing here?"

"I realised that I might be needed here. Fawkes could sense your weariness, and insisted that I come to find you. We were tracking your magical signature, and clearly you have taken a wrong turn..."

"I wasn't concentrating. Headmaster, you have to come back to Hogwarts! I know I am not one for student enjoyment, but she is destroying the school! She will not them participate in any clubs or recreational activities—I know when the student body is struggling when they are looking forward to my lessons!" Severus shook his head, "I have never seen the students or staff so restless!"

Albus held up a hand. "Severus. I know what is happening at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, I can do very little about it..."

Severus fidgeted with his hands, "When are you coming back?" His voice was soft—so soft that Albus could hardly hear him. "I don't know." He answered finally, contemplating the younger wizard.

Severus nodded, "Very well."

There was silence for a long moment.

"I did not come to speak of Hogwarts, Severus, important though that may be. I needed to find you—I needed to apologise."

Severus raised his eyes, "Why?"

"Do you know the conditions of my departure?"

"Only what I have heard through students and staff. We are all unsure of the truth." Severus folded his arms, "Why did you leave?"

"To protect young Harry and his friends. I assume you are aware of their group, Dumbledore's Army?" Albus watched Severus nod. "Of course. I should have known that you would."

"It is my business to spy on what is not my business." Severus said, irony twisting his tone.

Albus nodded with a small smile. "Indeed. But I neglected to consider, in the spur of the moment, the effect my disappearance would have on..." He paused. "You."

Severus raised an eyebrow, "I am fine."

Albus shook his head, "Do not lie to me, Severus. I have watched you, this past day. I saw you leave Hogwarts. Anyone can see that you are tired. You are a shadow of your former self. Tell me. What has he asked you to do?"

"I am fine—" Severus took a step backward. "I have to get to Hogwarts, I have much work to do—"

"Like?" Albus prompted, "Severus, you are too tired to Apparate. It is highly likely that you will make a mistake again, and end up completely lost. My dear boy, you will gain nothing from running from me now. What has Lord Voldemort demanded of you this time?"

Severus glared at him, angry at the Headmaster for identifying his weakness and angry at himself for leaving it so obvious.

Albus simply accepted the glare and continued to stare at Severus, one eyebrow raised, arms folded. Finally the blue gaze was too much and Severus looked away. "He has just been increasing his potions stocks." He mumbled.

Albus nodded. "And I assume he has been overworking you."

"It's not just that!" Severus exclaimed, "It's Umbridge too! She does not show any lenience—she does not know what I do, what I risk, for her precious Ministry, and she is constantly pestering me—why am I not handing back work the next day, why was I late to my first class on Tuesday—"

"You were late to your class?" Albus asked, but Severus did not seem to hear him.

"Why I overslept on Wednesday and missed a very important meeting with her to discuss my curriculum—I know what my curriculum is, I have taught it for sixteen years! Constantly making notes on that stupid clipboard of hers, tutting and sighing when I give my excuses, threatening me with losing my position as a teacher!" He paused for breath, not noticing the concerned expression crossing Albus' face. "And then there is the Dark Lord, who demands every type of potion, and if I don't produce it, will torture me to within an inch of my life, and yet when I provide him with what he has asked for, he simply asks for more! There is no respite! I stand up in the classroom all day, teaching the dunderheads. When I am not teaching, I am preparing potions ingredients or being bothered by Umbridge and her "meetings"—and then, when I am finished for the day, I cannot afford to eat because that would take precious minutes from my brewing time—and more often than not, there is a burn on my arm which means I return late and attempt to mark work by candlelight, when my patience is in shreds and I am handing out more detentions than I can possibly fulfil!" He stopped, leaning against a tree. He was aware that his voice had grown in intensity and volume as he had been ranting, and was now a little embarrassed. He would not meet Albus' eyes.

"When was the last time you slept, Severus?" Albus asked gently.

"I don't remember." Severus answered, and Albus knew it to be genuine. "I have been surviving on black coffee and Pepper-Up potions. It is all I can do—if I do not mark the work, I receive warnings from Umbridge. If I do not make the potions, I receive curses from the Dark Lord. I know that my duties should lie with my spying, but the harder she makes life at Hogwarts—it becomes more like a prison."

"Are you eating?"

Severus glanced at him. "I have...been to breakfast. I am required to show my face."

"Yes, but are you eating? Actually ingesting food?" Albus pressed.

"Pepper-Up potions generally disrupt the appetite." Severus carefully evaded the question. "I should be going back to Hogwarts, Headmaster, I have a pile of marking as tall as I am on my desk—and an Invisibility potion to prepare before tomorrow evening. It takes six hours to brew..."

"Have a seat, just for a moment. I am glad I have managed to find you. You need my company."

He was tired, Severus admitted. Perhaps having a moment with the Headmaster would help. He leaned back against the trunk of the weeping willow, slumping down into a sitting position.

Albus smiled at him, "It is good to see you."

Severus adjusted position with a hiss of pain. Albus noticed, "Is your back sore?"

"Too much brewing." Severus muttered, "And the Dark Lord took interest in my weaker leg this evening." Sometimes, he could not even look at his thigh. The burnt skin carried too many memories of a time that he would no longer consider. Sometimes, especially when in the presence of the initial culprit Voldemort, the leg would feel weaker. Voldemort knew that—and abused it.

Albus crossed to him. He sat down next to Severus. "Is this the first time he has tortured you since I left?"

It took a moment for Severus to answer—and he was trying to hide a yawn. Unsuccessfully. "No, but the wounds have been minor—he needs me to be able to make his potions."

"I assume, therefore, you have been surviving on Pain Relieving potions too, then?" Albus probed. Severus glanced at him. That was the only answer Albus needed.

He wrapped one arm around Severus' shoulders, feeling the other tremble. "You have to take better care of yourself, my dear boy. I cannot have you dying on me."

"...That would not be good for the "greater good"." Severus whispered. Albus moved his hand and let his fingers knead Severus' shoulder, finding where the pain was greatest. Severus sighed, the pleasurable sensation making him feel all the more weary. Albus watched him and tutted, before answering his previous question. "No, I suppose not. But I was more thinking of what a waste that would be." He felt Severus shift position next to him. "Are you tired? You should sleep."

Severus could barely manage a negative sound in the back of his throat. There was a moment. "Where have you been?" He asked finally.

Albus shook his head, "Lots of places. On the move, mainly." He glanced at Severus, and saw the black eyes watching him. He could not divulge any further at the moment. He was not even sure if the Horcrux was the right route—he needed more information. "I will come back to Hogwarts, Severus, just not now. Things will right themselves before the end."

"...He is planning...an attack..."

"I know he is on the move. But that is why I have you."

Severus didn't answer.

Albus glanced down at him. Severus' eyes were closed. His head was resting against Albus' shoulder.

It was a nasty trick—one that Albus was sure Severus would be furious about when he realised. Albus had, quite cleverly he thought, dispersed a potent sleeping potion in the forest clearing. He knew Severus well enough to know that the boy would work, and work, and work until he collapsed. That was not fair. So Albus, who was immune to the effects of the potion as he was, quite frankly a genius, had made Severus fall asleep.

Albus investigated the bloodied tear in Severus' robes; underneath the fabric, a deep cut lay across his thigh. He looked up at Fawkes, who glanced at him sadly. Albus lowered his arm, pulling the other closer to him. He stiffened. Severus had always been thin, but he seemed to be even more so now. Albus could feel his ribcage. "Oh, Severus..." He felt guilty. He should have considered Severus before leaving Hogwarts. In the spur of the moment, it had been the right thing to do. He had not considered that he would leave Severus without a lifeline.

"I will make it up to you, my boy. I promise."

Severus Snape yawned and opened his eyes. It took him a moment. He sat up straight. Where was he? A forest clearing? How had he...he remembered. Last night. After leaving the Death-Eater meeting—Disapparating—Fawkes—Albus! "Headmaster?" He looked around for Albus, but the older man was nowhere to be seen. The sun had not yet risen, but it was certainly close. He felt a jolt of panic. He had not even started on the Dark Lord's potion! The old coot had allowed him to sleep, knowing what a position he was in and what he needed to do! Severus got to his feet, pulling the blanket away from him. He looked down at the material in his hands—bright purple. A typical Albus fabric. He couldn't help the small smile. So he was running late—but seeing the Headmaster had done something.

He felt different. Maybe that was the sleep. Renewed. Revitalised.

It had been a very deep sleep, dreamless and empty. He never slept like that, unless someone had drugged him with Dreamless Sleep potions.

He had begun to walk by now, but stopped abruptly. "Dumbledore!" He growled. He should have realised the moment he entered the clearing. This had been planned.

"Damn you." But he knew he was not really angry.

He entered his office in a hurry, having seen the beginnings of the sunrise behind him as he had crossed the grounds. He had potions to brew and work to mark. He threw his travelling cloak to one side, put Albus' robe on the back of his chair, and walked into his potions' lab, already pulling his hair back from his face.

He stopped.

He did not remember preparing his potions ingredients.

He took a step forward. He also did not remember lighting his cauldron and starting making the Invisibility potion. Especially because when he had left last night, he had not known that he was needed to make one.

He turned. Were there any other unexplained happenings? Poking his head around his door, he focused his attention on his desk.

His now empty desk. He looked at the pile of marking, picking up the first sheets of parchment. Each had scrawling red comments littered across the students' handwriting, correcting errors. His whole pile. Three nights' worth of work.

There was only one piece of parchment left on his desk.

I know what you go through for me. One day, I shall make it up to you. Take good care of yourself, my dear boy.

Yours,

The Old Coot.

Severus looked down at the parchment and smiled.