Severus landed painfully, ten or more feet away from his destination, and crumbled to his knees. Security measures flashed vaguely through his mind; walk with confidence and swiftness toward the doors; repeat '12 Grimmauld Place' and enter promptly. He forgot to look up and down what he hoped was an abandoned street. Severus knew if anyone were to catch sight of him bleeding across the pavement and then to suddenly disappear, that he would attract too much unwanted attention.

'12 Grimmauld Place. 12 Grimmauld Place.'

The black door appeared, haphazardly pushing the houses either side away, and he leaned heavily against the wrought iron bars for support. He was lucky to have gotten this far, in fact, he knew he was lucky to have apparated into that circle without being killed on sight. Adrenaline had gotten him here; some of it built from memories of what to expect, the rest from pure fear – though he would never admit it.

Returning to The Dark Lord after Potter had re-entered the maze had terrified Severus. In a moment of what he now thought to be insanity, he had flashed his left arm at the Minister of Magic, in front of Potter, and despite Dumbledore vouching for him, couldn't shake the lurking thoughts that he was going to be carted to Azkaban before he could get inside the safe house. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if a cell in Azkaban was safer than the role Dumbledore was expecting him to play.

Just as the door opened, his knees gave way; his hand fell from his shoulder to allow the blood flow freely and before he could hit the floor, a pair of arms steadied him. He could briefly make out the direction he was half carried, half dragged. The corridors were dark and cold. Familiar but far away voices wafted around him; he heard urgent cries of 'Quickly. Take him to the kitchen.' and felt another pair of hands support him to his right.

"Severus? Severus can you hear me?"

Dumbledore. He tried to focus his gaze on one of the Headmasters many forms, for in his moment of hallucination there were five, each moving in different directions. The surroundings now were bright and he was placed in a chair, slouching a little. He could here rattling behind him, voices echoed and hands touched him all over. He tried to shuffle away but was too weak to put up a fight. A bottle touched his lips and warm liquid soothed his throat. The familiar taste told him it was a strengthening potion.

"Just rest, Professor Snape."

A female. He shifted against her touch. Her hands were soft, but shook. Severus thought if he could spare the blood that he would be red from anger or embarrassment, as she cut his robes from him and stifled a gasp. He grunted, trying to maneuver away but his shoulder sent a burst of pain through his body.

"What happened, Severus?"

He shook his head, pushing the woman's hands away and grappling for his wand. "Heal it," he murmured, blindly searching his tattered, blood stained shirt. "Heal it, Albus. It's burning."

Despite his pained groans, his shirt was torn from his body to reveal the gaping wound along his shoulder and collar bone. He knew from the flames that licked his insides his wound was cursed and he slammed his hand against it, recoiling from their touch.

"Don't touch it," he gasped. He could feel his eyes rolling again, his tongue becoming looser by the second in his attempt to stay conscious. "Cursed. It's cursed."

.

.

Severus woke the following morning in a bed far too comfortable to be in Spinner's End; in a room that smelled way too musty to be his personal quarters at Hogwarts; and in too much pain to believe he had died in that chair last night. If he didn't know any better, he would have believed that faith had finally caught up with him and he was now condemned to years of painful torment as a punishment for his past doings.

His mind felt fuzzy, but his body was no fool; his muscles ached and lying in one spot hurt more than trying to manipulate his legs into shifting. Severus could taste blood in his throat which felt dry and stung when he swallowed. When his shoulder ached unpleasantly, he cautiously cracked an eye lid to examine the damage. He was shirtless, his left arm exposed to anyone who should walk freely into the darkened room, save for a thick white bandage that crossed his chest and shoulder and went around his back. He took an extra moment to ensure that his trousers had remained intact during last nights event.

He muttered a profanity, tenderly fingering where he knew the gash weeped beneath the sterile cloth. Running a hand through his hair, he cringed as it felt thick in damp sweat, and closed his eyes again. There was little he could do to move; somewhat annoyed at his situation but more intimidated by the pulsing flesh beneath the bandage, Severus stayed rooted to the bed. Looking around the room, he was oddly reminded of Spinners End. It was dark, aged and probably held more secrets than he had concealed within his mind. A dusty vanity had been pushed against one wall, it's matching mahogany closet placed at a careless angle alongside it; wall paper peeled in various locations and he knew from the mere smell that the curtains were heavy with dust. Despite the rooms forgotten look, the bed was big, soft and the silken sheets kept the summer heat at bay from his already uncomfortable body.

A knock broke his trail of thought and he cocked his head in a confused fashion, for a brief moment extremely lost for words, then uttered "Come in?" He fought a scowl when Professor Dumbledore crossed the threshold, his eyebrows knitted in concern.

"I'm glad to see you've woken up," he said by way of greeting, then motioned his head in way of asking could he be seated at the rear of the bed. Severus nodded. "I won't lie -"

"You never do," Severus remarked.

"You look terrible."

"I always appreciated your subtle ways."

Dumbledore smiled, but his eyes betrayed him and he slipped into a picture of seriousness. "I need you to relay the details to me, Severus. Now would be better than later."

Severus knew better than to expect mental or emotional healing time; these concepts didn't exist in Professor Dumbledore's world, but he was used to interrogation by now. "I apparated into the circle, late as you know," he began, resting his head back into the pillow. Without knowing, he rubbed his left arm against his torso. It had been prickling uncomfortably since waking; not a call, he knew, more of a punishment. "I thought I was safe after my apologies, but he was angry. I don't know who else was there – we all wore masks, as you know – but there were enough to show he still has support."

"Lucius Malfoy?"

"I don't know, Albus. There were gaps though. A lot of them. Most of them are detained in Azkaban now – the Lestranges, Rookwood, Mulciber – others were killed a long time ago, and I can guarantee from Karkaroff's ranting all year, that he's done a runner up north somewhere. Swine deserves whatever faith finds him!"

"How did Voldemort look?"

Severus recoiled slightly, catching himself too late to prevent the throb in his collar bone. "Complete," he grunted. "He looked almost human. He's got a wand again. He's fully restored, Albus. He's back."

Dumbledore nodded, eyes flitting up and down Severus's frame and his fingers knotted together. "Has he mentioned a plan of action?"

"Nothing yet."

"What did he do to you, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, blue eyes lingering on the bandaged shoulder.

"It's cursed. I recognise it from years back. Rookwood was handy with cursed wounds and he taught us all back then."

"I managed to detain it to your shoulder. The bleeding stopped but it wouldn't close. I assumed you would have a solution?"

"It's better left untouched. This is my punishment for not seeking him out."

"I see." Dumbledore nodded again, adjusting himself slightly against the mattress, which made Severus rock painfully.

"Don't try to woe me with small talk, Albus. I'm not easily swayed as you know. I'm not backing down from our agreement either. I'm still on your side. I'm still your man."

"I ask too much of you, Severus."

"You've asked me for nothing yet," he reminded him.

"I will have to ask you eventually."

"And I'll be ready."

"You understand that I cannot permit you to leave Grimmauld Place until further notice."

Severus glowered. "There is no reason for me to reside here, Albus. There is nothing here for me. I can care well for myself and I will need to be able to come and go for meetings when I'm called. I cannot disappear off the face of the planet now that The Dark Lord is back."

"You may move freely throughout the house, Severus. Though I recommend staying away from the top floor and the bedroom down the corridor. Mr Weasley tried to remove a diary from there that clamped shut around his fingers and wouldn't let go for 4 hours."

"I have things to deal with."

"You may still deal with them. But I will need you to stay where I can get to you easily, without fear of Death Eaters intruding on our tea breaks. Come and go as you please. But I can guarantee when you finally do get around to attempting to move from this bed, you'll decide against any excursions. You're in more pain than you think."

"Who tended to me?" he asked warily.

"Mrs Weasley, mostly. She's got a way with wounds after raising all those children, though I can say your injuries were more than grazed knees. She did a fine job regardless. Remus Lupin helped you to bed," he mentioned, failing to control that twinkle Severus knew.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, this is now headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. With time you'll see many more faces pass on through and Severus, I expect you to trust in yourself." He rose and stretching slightly. "You're more capable of letting go than you give yourself credit for."

"Don't try and soften me, Dumbledore. You'll be lucky to find me alive after a week with two mongrels for company."

"I'm sure you'll manage. Rest, Severus. You're in good hands."

He left soon after, there was only so much discussion of imminent destruction and possible death missions Severus could handle before pretending to feign exhaustion. When Dumbledore eventually did leave, he was surprised to find himself slipping back into a slumber, his left arm prickling, his right shoulder throbbing, and his mind failing to empty itself.

Fayet: I always did like to start with a bang. Personally, no matter how brave and cunning I like to think I am, I'd probably throw myself at Voldemort's mercy or Avada Kedavra myself.

snapefan18: Here's your update! Thanks for enjoying it :]

Lupinesence: I love your pen name! Snupin is my OTP. I'll never forgive J.K for not having them date.

Second Impressions Chapter II - Complete. Thank you to all who reviewed, favourited, followed, etc,.