Chapter 2 – The Healer Within

It took all his powers of persuasion, but finally Madam Pomfrey allowed him in to see Lily. He was tired, but he needed this more than sleep. Like some sort of medicinal infusion, seeing her again after so long did his heart wonders, but seeing her lying there, like a beautiful flower that had been broken and cast aside, made his very soul ache.

He conjured a chair and sat at her side. Her eyes were closed, her chest gently rose and fell in a steady, soothing rhythm. The sound was like music to his ears. Her fiery red hair was fanned out a bit beneath her head. He wanted to reach out and touch the raw, angry, deep gash on her right cheek. She had several on her arms, and he could only imagine where else she had sustained injury. Voldemort must have tortured her, he thought bitterly. He was never satisfied to just leave well enough alone. No, he had to leave his malevolent mark on everything. A hot acid flame erupted within Snape, and he hated Voldemort more now than ever.

He leaned forwards to examine the wounds on her arms, and at once, he recognized them. These were Sectumsempra wounds, and could not be healed by dittany and time alone. He was both filled with anger that a spell of his own creation had caused these wounds, but was also excited that he alone knew the counter-curse and could undo most of the damage.

Glancing around the room, which housed no other patrons, he cast the Muffliato spell at the matron's office door. He hovered over Lily, pointing his wand at one of the cuts. He began to knit the wounds together, using an incantation that needed to be sung and hummed rather than spoken. The Sectumsempra spell was fueled by anger and hatred – that is how he had designed it – and produced the most damage when performed under those conditions. Voldemort's anger must have been strong, because usually only three or four passes with the wand would knit the wound, but he was now on his eighth pass over the first gash, and it had only just begun to close.

Finally, the wound had been closed and was no longer raw. Snape gently rolled back the bottom of her hospital gown, and to his horror, he discovered that her legs were covered in gashes as well. He replaced the hem of her gown and started on the second wound on her arm, this time unable to control his tears as he hummed. To his amazement, this wound healed over with only half as many passes of the wand. The heart of the counter-curse was love, he had known that since he created it, and just as with the curse itself, the stronger the emotion, the more effective the spell.

He went about healing her arms, and as he was just finishing up on the gash on her cheek, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office.

'What are you doing, Professor?' she demanded harshly. But before Snape could answer, she stopped and looked from Lily's arms to Snape and back again, her expression registering equal shock and wonder. 'What – how – how are you doing that? Those wounds aren't curable, at least not with anything I've tried. How are you doing that?'

'Something I picked up along my travels,' Snape replied evasively. Snape resumed the healing. Madam Pomfrey watched in fascination, keeping quiet as he worked.

'That's extraordinary,' she said once he had stopped humming.

'I'm glad you approve,' said Snape. 'I know a potion I can brew before the morning that will eliminate scarring if applied regularly.'

'Yes, by all means, Professor,' said Madam Pomfrey gratefully. 'I'm sure Mrs. Potter will be forever grateful.'

Snape smiled weakly. Mrs. Potter. It was hard for him to see her as 'Mrs. Potter'. To him, she would always be Lily Evans.

'Poor girl,' she said, seemingly talking more to herself than to Snape. 'Lost everything, you know. Husband and son. I've given her a potion to ease her into a deep and dreamless sleep. She'll need her senses when she wakes up.'

Snape wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on Lily. She had begun to stir in her sleep, and for a moment, he thought she might wake up.

'You should probably fix the rest of those wounds. She'll be out until at least this time tomorrow night.'

Snape nodded without looking away from Lily. Once again, he rolled back her hospital gown and left it just above her knees and began humming the incantation over a particularly deep slash, focusing on his love for her and willing himself to cry silently to strengthen the spell. Madam Pomfrey went about changing the sheets on the beds that had been recently vacated before retiring back to her office, and, coupled with the fact he had his back to her, she hadn't noticed his tears.

Emotionally drained by the end of the healing, Snape pocketed his want and sat down in the chair again. His eyes stung from a combination of having cried so much and the fact that it was closing in on two in the morning. He couldn't stay here all night, as much as he wanted to. He had classes to teach in the morning and a Lavendulus Potion to brew before then.

He stood up, torn between leaving and staying, between kissing her forehead before he left and foregoing it altogether. He remained still, frozen by ambivalence, until at last he compromised and simply took her limp hand in his and held it for a moment before placing it gently back on the sheets.