Disclaimer: *looks in mirror* Nope, still not JKR, so I don't own Harry Potter. :(

Author's Note: Thank you all for the lovely feedback regarding this story; I had no idea so many of you would enjoy this little bit of randomness! Alas, I'm afraid this chapter does little to advance any kind of plot, but I did want to give you an update. Snape-abuse can be rather addicting. :) Enjoy!


Minerva felt unable to breathe, and not only because the wind cut through her dressing gown.

They had wasted time—so much time—rationalising and assuming and creating comforting scenarios, and they could have killed because of it. Oh, Severus… Albus was already kneeling beside their younger colleague, frowning at the reddened ground beneath his middle and whispering instructions to Fawkes. Minerva joined him.

"Albus, I—is he—?"

She could not bring herself to say it, but he looked dead; his skin was barely distinguishable from the snow around him but for the slightly bluer tint it had acquired. His cloak had done him little good, or perhaps he had been out here longer than they'd thought—it was clearly soaked through, and a thin layer of ice had already begun forming on its folds. Albus reached for one of the pale wrists and bent closer, his brows creasing further.

"No, Minerva, he's breathing—barely—but his pulse is slow. Poppy will need to see him immediately."

He wrapped his cloak around Severus as best he could, and then hoisted the unconscious man in his arms. "Minerva, Fawkes will take you to Poppy—help her prepare as best you can. We will be along shortly—I don't want to risk Apparating, in his condition."

Minerva nodded and allowed the phoenix to whisk her back to Poppy's ward; the matron was waiting impatiently.

"Well?"

"We found him, Poppy. Outside. He's frozen—Albus didn't even want to try Apparating him—"

Poppy swore. "I should have known," she said angrily. "The next time he's not back before three in the morning, I don't care if I have to pop in on You-Know-Who himself—I will know that Severus hasn't gone and gotten into worse trouble like this. Here, Minerva—blankets, warming pads, anything you can find in those cupboards, bring them here."

Minerva did as she was told. It was not, she thought wryly, exactly what she had envisioned herself doing early on a Saturday morning, but if she could help…. She shuddered slightly as she remembered Severus's face. She had seen a Muggle boy that colour, once, when she was a girl… he had fallen through the ice while skating on the lochs.

He had also died.

Fawkes whistled suddenly, drawing her attention back to the present. He was staring at her, his little black eyes shrewd, and she couldn't help but think that he deliberately nudged her as he fluttered around to perch on a headboard. Poppy glared at him for a moment, but then sighed.

"You're not going to leave, are you? Well, then, you'd better be of some help."

The phoenix trilled softly, as if to say that he always helped, before settling down to watch the ward's doors intently. Minerva shook her head. If she didn't know better, she would think that he was channelling Albus.

Really, where is that man?

She had scarcely decided to go out to meet him when he burst through the doors, carrying his precious bundle. Poppy glanced at them and sighed in exasperation.

"Put him down here. Really, Albus, it was dangerous to remove your own protection…"

"It was nothing."

"But it was still cold," said Minerva. "Hot chocolate, I think." She summoned a few cups as she watched Poppy work; the mediwitch did not look pleased.

"Foolish man…why did you ever try to make it up here with that wound, I wonder?" she murmured, but as she turned to heal it, Fawkes squawked indignantly and took her place instead, fat teardrops falling onto Severus's skin so that it sealed flawlessly; another squawk and a flash of fire, and the phoenix was gone. Albus smiled slightly, but Minerva pursed her lips; Poppy still looked too worried for her taste.

"Poppy, is there anything else I can do?" she said briskly.

Poppy shrugged. "We've got to get him warm," she said, feeling for Severus's pulse for the third time. "Gradually. I assume you dried his clothes?" she shot at Albus.

"Naturally."

"Good. I can't say if he'll—well—you've definitely helped. Now…blankets…warming spells…NO, Albus, what are you doing?"

Albus put down his Potion Master's hand in surprise. "I merely thought the contact would help," he said. "Is it not possible that he could lose the use of his hands from—"

"Of course, but that's a necessary risk at this point," Poppy snapped. "We warm his body first. Not the extremities. That's cold blood you're trying to circulate, Albus, and his heart won't take it. You'll kill him."

Knowing that it was only concern that made Poppy so irascible, Minerva bit her tongue at Albus's hurt look. Nevertheless, she gave him an encouraging smile and helped Poppy enchant the various quilts that they tucked around Severus. Despite soon looking as though he were encased in a small mountain of warm cloth, however, Poppy still shook her head as she slipped the thermometer out from underneath his tongue once more.

"It's still much too low," she said fretfully. "Albus, I'm sorry, but he's not doing as well as I'd hoped…"

Minerva glanced at her, puzzled; surely with all the available healing magic, more could be done? But Poppy caught her eyes and shook her head again.

"Those warming pads are already as hot as I dare make them; it's too much strain on his system as it is—oh, hell. Don't you dare—damn you, Severus, breathe!"

She bent over him again, muttering spells under her breath; Minerva exchanged a look with Albus and fidgeted uncomfortably. Severus certainly wasn't her favourite person to spend time with, but he was still a colleague and—however loosely the term was used—friend. To see him in such a state, partly due to her own delay, was more difficult than she'd imagined.

Poppy finally straightened up with a sigh, but looked less confident than ever. "Minerva, keep an eye on him for a moment. I'm getting a potion that should help warm his bloodstream directly," she said, and headed for her office.

Minerva nodded and sat at Severus's side, noting with chagrin that his colour was no better. He did not stir as she brushed the hair from his face, his skin like ice against her hand. Still, he was breathing again—if only just—and Poppy had worked miracles before…

"Perhaps Fawkes should have stayed," she said quietly, feeling Albus's eyes upon her.

He sighed. "I have faith in Poppy's abilities, though it is my fault that we have need of them at the moment. All the time I assumed—"

"Enough, Albus. It's You-Know-Who's fault, if anyone's. And mine. I shouldn't have waited."

"My dear professor," he chuckled hollowly, "you're probably the reason he's alive. If you hadn't come to me, I would have slept soundly, and he would have remained outside with no one to find him in time."

"It still might not be 'in time,'" said Poppy darkly, returning with a bottle of potion and a syringe, "but I'm doing my best."

Minerva winced and looked away as Poppy tended to Severus again, pricking his skin with practised hands. Albus was clearly very troubled; she had not seen him look so dejected since… well, she couldn't even remember when. She summoned another cup of hot chocolate and levitated it towards him, eyeing him nervously, but he managed a small smile.

"Thank you, Minerva."

"Albus, he'll be all right," she said firmly. She forced herself to ignore Poppy's quiet but slightly doubtful snort.

Albus shook his head. "I can't help but think…. Something happened, Minerva. He was hurt. Voldemort cannot have been pleased." He paused. "That is to say nothing of… Severus has told me that Voldemort has been making a habit of the Cruciatus curse of late. I find it hard to believe he escaped with little more than a flesh wound."

"It wasn't a 'flesh wound'; he was bleeding quite badly before that bird of yours healed him," Poppy muttered, disgruntled. "In any case… I dare not give him the usual potion until he's more stable."

"And that will be…?" said Albus quietly.

She looked up at her colleagues and sighed. "I—I don't know. With any luck, he'll sleep off most of the curse's effects before the potion is needed. Well, it's needed now, of course, but it does very nasty things when combined with what I just gave him. And, seeing as it's a choice between possible discomfort and death…."

"Of course," said Minerva, nodding. "But—Poppy, he just looks so—"

"Bad, I know," she provided. "As can only be expected. He's certainly not in good shape."

"But he will—eventuallybe all right?" persisted Albus. His light blue eyes were piercing, staring from Severus to Poppy as though sheer will could make him respond to her treatments. Minerva bit her lip; when Albus was unsure, things were very grave, indeed.

Poppy hesitated. "He'll need monitoring for a while yet," she said slowly, "but he should pull through…. I've done everything I can. Well, short of crawling in there naked with him, of course, but there are charms to take my place. And I absolutely forbid either of you to try it," she added, cracking a tired grin. "I won't have tried to save him from freezing to death only to have that shock kill him."

Minerva managed a weak laugh. "No, I don't think you need to worry about that, Poppy," she said. "Though, honestly…" she continued, as the thought struck her, "If it would help—" She transfigured herself into a cat and leapt onto Severus's chest, tilting her head at Poppy in question.

"I hadn't thought of that," the mediwitch said, surprised; then she shrugged. "Well, it can't hurt. Actually, no, Minerva—stay there. It'll be easier to keep an eye on him, that way, though I'll certainly be here, as well."

Minerva nodded, then curled up in a ball, nestling her head against Severus's neck. His skin was still chilly, but the blue had faded, and the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her cheek was somewhat reassuring. She heard Albus sigh.

"Poppy, if there's any reason—"

"Headmaster, I've done my best—he won't recover instantly. The most you can do at this point is worry yourself sick. Go back to bed. Minerva and I will be fine."

Minerva intended to purr her agreement, but the warmth from the blankets was taking its toll. Suddenly exhausted, she huddled further down and allowed her eyes to close, praying the man she was using as a pillow would still be alive when she woke.


Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Comments, questions, etc. always welcome. :)