Author's Note: Takes place during the summer before Order of the Phoenix-during which time a house arrested Sirius has to babysit an injured Snape. This will probably have three chapters and likely be finished by next week. Thanks for reading! I don't own Harry Potter. *Hamlet (by Shakespeare) is referenced, specifically Act 3, scene I, 58-59 and 66-67.
Snape and Sirius Get Physical
It didn't hurt at first. Nothing ever really hurt at first. It was the afterward that was painful. After staying up all night to finish a potion, after telling the Dark Lord the prophecy, after going to a particular painful death eater meeting; after was the hard part. He clutched his abdomen, his fingers coming away slightly bloody, but not enough to notice against his dark clothing. His other hand touched his wand, sitting comfortably in his back pocket. He rasped twice on Grimmauld door and said a small spell. The door creaked open to reveal a rather loud discussion reverberating from the kitchen. He walked with measured steps, trying to calm the spasms in his legs. His left eyebrow quirked upward as he took in the scene before him. Molly was just serving dinner as Mad Eye and Dumbledore were arguing, put more correctly, Mad Eye was arguing, Dumbledore sat in the chair and would say two words before something set the other man off again. Sirius, Remus, and Tonks were talking across the table as Molly and Arthur shot worried glances at each other across the table. Molly noticed Snape first, her chair right across from the doorframe.
"Ah Severus! Why don't you join us for dinner before the meeting starts?"
He lowered his chin and pulled his robes closer as if there was a draft.
"The meeting was supposed to have started already,"
Molly guided him over to the seat next to her and shoved a bowl of soup in front of him before he could protest.
"Oh yes, well, Alastor seemed to disagree with Dumbledore on a topic and decided to voice his opinions,"
Snape raised a hand to his pounding head. Voldemort infiltrated his mind no less than thirty minutes ago at the Death Eater meeting.
"Rather loudly at that too. I'm sorry Molly, but there are other things I must tend to,"
Like my bleeding stomach,
he thought quietly. He made to stand up before his vision slanted dangerously. He slammed his hands on the table to stop himself from fainting. His eyes scrunched closed trying to stop the dancing room. He felt Molly's soft hand on his right shoulder.
"Severus?"
His breathing became more labored, he kept his eyes shut. Tremors raced through his arms. His shoulders hunched from the after effects of the cruciatus. His stomach rubbed against the table, irritating it further. The shouts from Alastor ceased, the conversation between Remus, Tonks, and Sirius stopped. He cracked his left eye open through the haze of pain. Everyone was looking at him.
"My dear boy, are you all right?"
Albus was talking to him. He glanced down at his abdomen, noticing the small, but growing bloodstain on the table. The soup's smell did nothing to help his nausea. Finally, he lost it. His legs trembled and gave out. Blackness consumed him, but only for a minute. He was vaguely aware of the chaos going around him. Someone caught him, probably Remus, who was sitting on the other side of him. He lowered Snape to the floor gently, something the bruised man was more than grateful for.
"Is that blood?"
"He keeps twitching, does anyone have a calming draught?"
Another minute and he could feel the smooth edge of a vial against his lips. He swallowed the liquid quickly, before spluttering and opening his eyes again. Molly was anxiously peering over him with the back of her hand on his forehead. Remus was holding his shoulders down, the shudders slowing down from the effects of the potion. Snape's head rested in Remus's lap as well. The muggle cloth made for a better pillow than the cold floor. The headmaster was kneeling on his other side. The old man's hands probed his stomach wound. He grunted as the other man pressed down.
"Is there anything from the last meeting I should know?"
Snape whispered a few words before Dumbledore leaned in closer.
"There will be a…raid,"
He closed his eyes against another spasm of pain,
"Thursday night, Nurmengard,"
His limbs continued twitching as his vision grew fuzzy and his eyes shut.
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Snape didn't usually have good dreams, but tonight was different. To-night he dreamt of Lily and her beautiful green eyes as green as the grass they used to lie in when they were children. They both sat in chairs facing each other. She looked upon him kindly, the surrounding background white.
"I don't want to wake up,"
She took his hands in her lap, "*to sleep perchance to dream,"
Snape swallowed, his hands felt so warm entwined with hers.
"*Ay there's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come,"
He breathed in her lavender scent, he knew Hamlet too well.
"I am to go back then, to protect your son?"
"*tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,"
He knew the rest of the lines well, including the later part about ending life rather than fighting, and suffering through everyday's misfortune. But curiously enough, she didn't recite the rest. Just kept it at those few lines. The answer came to him, that Lily thought it was, or this dream Lily thought it was better to fight that's why she didn't mention the second part of the line. She squeezed his hands once more before the light overpowered him.
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He could feel his senses slowly reawakening. The pain receptors in his stomach seemed to be working the best. He cracked his eyes open to the surprisingly dark room. He lifted a hand to push the sheets back but realized with displeasure that the hand was slightly shaking. The meetings were taking their toll on him. The tremors had mostly stopped, except for his shaking hands. The cotton sheets brushed against his bare chest. That's when he saw his neatly and tightly wrapped midsection. Dark red stained through the white cloth. He heard the door open, chilly air came in. To his surprise it was Sirius.
"Finally awake Snivellus?"
The tone of Sirius's voice was off. The man might've said the name to offend him, but there was no usual hatred or power behind it. Sirius sat down on the chair beside the bed, putting the healing liquid on the bedside table with white gauze. Snape's brain was still heavy with fog and he felt so cold! A shiver rain down the length of his spine, which brought out another small-scale tremor. After a minute, during which time Sirius unfolded a towel and dipped it in the potion, leaving it to soak for a minute as he watched the Potion's master seize. After another minute, Snape laid on the bed, exhausted, his muscles too sore to move. Sirius pulled down the covers, exposing the abdomen.
"Don't you dare,"
Snape hissed out, his voice sounded raw, his throat hurt badly. Sirius laughed, a smirk forming on his lips.
"Or what, you'll have another seizure? Besides, I'm in charge of making sure you don't have another near death experience,"
Snape closed his eyes as Sirius touched the bandage. He suppressed a groan as the man unwound the dressing. Sirius looked at the exposed wound before glancing at the raven-haired man. He was breathing heavy again, beads of sweat ran down his face, his face couldn't be more pale. Snape puked, or would have if he had anything in his stomach. Instead he dry heaved, bringing up bile and blood. The wound had not healed well, that much was obvious. Yellow pus leaked out of the corner, and the skin around looked red and swollen.
"What do you mean another near death experience?"
Snape panted as he leaned back against the pillows. Sirius rolled his eyes thinking back to last night.
"After you fainted, you had a grand mal seizure. Nearly hit Remus in the face. We couldn't wake you afterward,"
He took a second to let the other man take it in.
"Your stomach looked really bad. We would've sent you to St. Mungo's but they would start asking questions because of the severity,"
Snape nodded as he glanced around the old room. Sirius picked up the cloth and with a surprising gentleness cleansed the wound. Snape grimaced as the cloth covered the entire gash. Once he removed it, he shot a fleeting glance to the fireplace. Snape's head was once again throbbing as he blinked his eyes tiredly again. He didn't want to fall asleep but he really didn't have much control over his body at this point. He turned his head into the fluffy pillow, watching as Black fire called the headmaster. He caught snippets of the conversation.
"insane-infected-vomiting blood-the greasy git,"
Without much of a fight, Snape slipped off to sleep again.
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*Hamlet (by Shakespeare) is referenced, specifically Act 3, scene I, 58-59 and 66-67.