Severus' screams woke me from my slumber, the sound sending chills up my spine.
"My head!" he shouted. "Get out of my head!"
I was across the hall as quickly as my feet could carry me. It was full-on dark, so I switched on the light, but Severus' cries only increased.
"Daggers! So many daggers, pricking at my skin!"
Immediately I dimmed the light until it was merely a soft glow in the room, enough that Severus could see me and not be startled by my presence, but hopefully low enough not to pain him. "Is that better?" I asked.
He whimpered and curled in on himself, his fists clutched at the sides of his head, bits of hair between his fingers. I slowly approached and sat on the edge of the bed next to him. Before I realised what I was doing, my hand was on his shoulder in a bid to comfort him, my thumb rubbing circles over his bicep. Just as my mind registered what I was doing, and I thought to pull my hand away, I noticed that Severus' rapid breathing had calmed, enough so that he eased his fingers free of his abused locks and he placed one shaking hand atop mine.
Slight tremors made his fingers twitch, alternating between tightly gripping my hand and skimming over it. I hardly knew which was more disconcerting: the squeezing pressure or the fluttery touches. Both did funny things to my stomach. Feeling the dampness of Severus' shirt, I started to remove my hand so that I could get him some fresh clothing, but his grasp intensified.
"Don't go," he said through chattering teeth.
I swallowed against the ache in my throat. He sounded so… broken. I wanted to help ease his suffering, but he was shivering, and I didn't think it was due to withdrawal. Placing my free hand on his brow, I found that it was radiating heat. I frowned. Chills and fever—not good. Slowly, I pulled out my wand and showed it to Severus.
"I'm going to run a diagnostic scan on you, all right?"
He glanced at me, blinked and looked away. I took it as tacit consent. Quickly, I used the spells I had picked up from Andromeda—she had often used them on me at certain times; not only was he running a fever, he was severely malnourished, dehydrated, and his potassium levels were dangerously low. He also had two fractures: one at the base of his right index finger and the other on his left great toe. His right rotator cuff was stiff with overuse. Multiple healed fractures and scars ran the length of his body. The man was an utter mess.
The convulsive grasp I had noted was probably due to a combination of low potassium and fever. I couldn't tell if the healed fractures were recent or from long ago, but the swollen joint on his right index finger was very current—probably within the last day or so. I knew Severus had been abused and slowly poisoned during his 'incarceration', but I now came to realise the extent of that torture. He had, or knew, something that someone deemed valuable, and when he hadn't given them what they wanted, 'they' decided to persuade him. Forcefully.
According to Andromeda, it was inadvisable to give Severus any potions—until the one he had been drugged with had been identified, there could be any sort of adverse reaction or side-effect. Seeing his obvious discomfort, however, I searched my mind for anything that could be substituted to provide relief. There was always the Muggle paracetamol that Andromeda liked to experiment with, but it probably wouldn't even take the edge off the pain Severus must be feeling.
"Hurts," Severus croaked, and I looked down to see that I was unwittingly touching the swollen, bruised flesh of his finger.
"Episkey," I said, hoping it would at least reduce the swelling. His look changed to one of relief, so I gently examined the digit and found that it moved more freely. Now, for the next pressing issue. "Do you think you can handle eating and drinking something?" I asked.
He licked his cracked lips. He had to be parched. I thought he was going to refuse, but in the end, he relented and nodded. "Small portions only."
I gently extricated my hand and stood. "I'll only be a few minutes. Do you want me to leave the light on, or turn it off?"
"Off," he muttered, and pulled the duvet over his head.
I turned off the light and left the door open so that I could hear if anything happened while I was downstairs. When I arrived in the kitchen, I went over Andromeda's list again to give me an idea of what Severus could stomach at the moment. Perhaps I was being overly optimistic, but if this episode was the worst of it, Severus would be back to himself in no time.
Wrong. I was so very, utterly wrong. Miserably so. With a capital M. No, all the letters were capital. The days and nights that followed were hellish and filled with things I had no idea that the human psyche could conjure.
Severus had managed to take five bites of banana and a few swallows of some tepid water. Five minutes later, it had reappeared… all over me, the bedding and Severus himself. I cursed my idiocy that I hadn't thought to provide a rubbish bin for him to use. I used a Cleansing Charm to get rid of the mess but the stench still lingered, so I stripped the bed and asked Severus for his clothes. You would've thought I was asking him to voluntarily incarcerate himself in Azkaban. He cowered in the corner near the bed, shaking his head. I pleaded with him to no avail, until it occurred to me to warn him that 'they' would smell him from afar if he didn't bathe.
I had never seen a wizard move that fast. He was in the loo, naked, staring at the bathtub when I found him. I turned on the taps, making the water as warm as I thought he could tolerate—not only would he be clean, but the heat might help his chronic shivering. He had rid himself of the clothing, but I only had a quick moment to scan his body for any bruises, marks, anything out of the ordinary, before he settled himself in the porcelain tub. I asked him if he needed any help. He looked at me strangely, as if the suggestion of 'help' was a foreign concept to him. Considering what he'd been through, I supposed it must be.
I did not stay—obviously he was capable of washing himself—but changed the bedding and found a few items of mine I thought he could wear, with some alterations, of course. Just as I was about to knock on the door and deliver a set of pyjama bottoms, an old blue t-shirt and a ratty dressing gown, I heard a splash and yelp on the other side. I quickly opened the door and found Severus convulsing in the tub, his body shaking from a seizure.
The next few minutes were a blur. I dropped the clothing and rushed to pull his head above water so he wouldn't drown. I had no idea how to stop or even shorten his convulsions, so I would just have to wait the duration of the episode. I shifted him until his face was captured between my hands to cushion his head from striking the sides of the tub.
His eyes rolled and his eyelids fluttered, and I had to stifle a whimper of my own when I spied flecks of blood dotting his mouth and nose. The seizure lasted three minutes, though it seemed like far longer as I ignored the pain in my hands, knees and back from keeping him immobilised. When at last he sagged in my arms, I blew out a breath I hadn't known I was holding. Taking a flannel, I dipped it in the water and brought it to his face, gently wiping away the slow trickle of blood. Then, gritting my teeth against the agony shooting through my body, I pulled Severus from the tub, cast a Featherweight Charm on him and brought him to his bedroom.
When I had him settled on the bed, I dried and dressed him. Once he was beneath the covers, he started shaking again. I wanted to help, but before I could be of any use to Severus, I had to take one of the potions Andromeda had on stand-by for when my own symptoms became worse. As the bitter tasting liquid slid thickly down my throat, I could only marvel at the irony.
It was a tragic comedy of the blind leading the blind; I didn't know which one of us was worse off. We might both be dead by the end of the week, instead of on the mend.
When I was younger, before I fully realised what Greyback's curse had done to me, I had told my mother that I wanted to be a Healer, a Medi-wizard, a doctor, something in the medical field. I hadn't understood at the time why she had frowned at my words and tactfully suggested that I seek out other avenues of study. But the older I grew, and the more fear I saw induced by the mere whiff of the word 'werewolf', the more I recognized that my mother had only been trying to be kind in diverting my attention away from anything that would bring me into direct contact with others on a constant basis. I had lain to rest any hope of such a profession long before I left Hogwarts. Later, my mother had admitted I would've made a brilliant Healer if I'd had the opportunity. But by then, I could only laugh to myself. She was wrong; I would've made a terrible Healer. I had no stomach for overwhelming scents and couldn't fully control my reactions to my surroundings—both integral to working with patients. Though there was no safer alternative, I realised my inability to properly care for Severus confirmed my mind-set; I was out of my depth and I hope I didn't inadvertently kill the poor bastard.
Settling into an overstuffed chair, I planned to stand vigil that night, knowing when Severus awoke, he would be in a fair amount of pain from the seizure. I tried to keep my eyes open, I really did. But the exhaustion of the day, combined with the potion coursing through my system, lulled me into a fitful sleep.
When I next opened my eyes, Severus was not in his bed. I sat up abruptly and looked around the room. He was the window, stark naked save for the dressing gown hanging off his shoulders. The wintry sunlight made his pallid complexion even more so, emphasising the hollows of his cheeks and eye-sockets, making them look darker by the contrast. He looked little more than a walking corpse.
"Severus?"
He didn't move, and his voice was hoarse and tentative. "I remember…" His brow creased as his eyes darted here and there. "Your name is Remus Lupin."
"Yes," I replied, sure that I would hear that vicious tongue wag and call me out on all sorts of crimes that I had apparently perpetrated upon him. If he recalled who I was, he might also know the events surrounding the two of us.
"You tried to kill me once…" His voice trailed off as he turned to look at me.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and with an effort kept my eyes on his face. He knew. So much for keeping the lycanthropy a secret. "I don't think you'll believe me, but I swear to you, I had no inkling of what Sirius was planning," I whispered, my voice raw with bitterness.
He began to rub his temples, and I could tell that he was searching for memories that were lost in the fog of his mind. He growled in frustration. "Sirius… why can I not see his face in my mind? Why are my thoughts so tangled? I know who you are, what you did, but I only vaguely remember this Sirius. He was… a Black, yes?"
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"There was a girl, but I don't… her name escapes me. I think she was kind to me."
"Do you recall what she looked like?"
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "Orange, bright, daisies… no, that smells wrong. Ice lollies. Dirty river. Argh!" He thumped his fist against the window frame. "Fish bowl," he said sadly.
None of it made any sense whatsoever. "Perhaps you should sleep some more," I suggested. I stood and made my way to the door. "Maybe try and eat a bit beforehand."
When I paused, waiting for his answer, he flicked his wrist at me in an imperious wave, giving me a brief glimpse of the old Severus. "Well? I don't have all day to dawdle, Lupin."
Unable to help myself, I smiled a bit. "Anything else, your majesty?"
He arched a brow. "Am I royalty, then? I don't seem to recall ever having sat on a throne."
I chuckled. "No, not even close. Well, you used to be a royal pain in my arse, but alas, no blue blood running through your veins that I know of."
Merlin shag me sideways, but the bastard smirked at me. "'Used to be'? Then I shall have to try harder."
Laughing, I closed the door before I did something incredibly stupid… like hug him.
Later that evening, after Severus had managed to keep a few bites of porridge, rice and banana in his stomach, things took an abrupt change for the… odd.
At times, he had no sense of my presence; others, he would stare at me, his gaze slightly feral. What struck me to the core, though, was how similar his symptoms were to mine before and after a transformation. I had lived with the prickly skin, the agitation, the restlessness for most of my life; I was used to it. But to a wizard that had prided himself on his composure in a crisis, it could only render his already fragile mind close to near breaking.
I had never been around anyone that suffered from delusions—at least not the sort associated with withdrawal—so I was completely unprepared for Severus' fidgety movements and absolute certainty that something was crawling on, and under, his skin. Several times he shucked off his clothes, and finally, I just let him twist on the sheets in the nude.
"Get them off me! They're eating me alive!"
I restrained Severus' hands so that he wouldn't claw the skin on his arms, face, or anywhere else. He'd already torn bloody gouges in a number of places. I had no idea what sort of terrors he was experiencing—there was literally nothing touching him other than a bed sheet and my hands—but clearly it was powerful enough to make him feel under almost constant attack.
"The skull is the key," he moaned, and bucked his hips in an attempt to throw me off. "Drowning, down, so far down, can't breathe!" His eyes were tightly closed, his face pinched, his head thrashing from side to side.
I had no idea what he was talking about. "Severus? Severus, listen to me… no one is here to hurt you, settle down, I'm not going to—"
A swift kick of his knee and I was doubled over in pain. I dropped to the floor, cupping my groin. "Oh, bloody fuck," I whispered in anguish. Tears fringed my lashes as I tried to breathe through the searing pain in my balls.
It seemed like several hours went by while I lay there, but in reality, it was probably only a couple of minutes. A noise, and then a pair of bare feet appeared in my field of vision. Severus crouched down, naked, and flicked my nose. "Your colour and smell are different." He scratched at his raw wrist. "Not like them, not like them at all." His laugh had a mad tinge to it. "Come to poke at me, no. Come to poke at you, yes!"
The pain was muddling my thoughts, I knew, but even without that, his words were complete nonsense. "Not…" I huffed, for it was all I could manage, "going… to hurt… you."
His palm slapped the floor in front of my face, the sound exploding in my ears. "Lies," he hissed. "You all lie! You will find nothing!"
"Severus," I pleaded, though I didn't know what I was asking for.
"Pain?" he asked, laying his face flush on the floor, his nose touching mine.
"Yes," I panted.
He reached over and tapped me on the forehead, his smile crooked and strange. "Try being a Death Eater, and then tell me what pain is." His smile shifted to a scowl. "I was a Death Eater. Do you know what it's like having snakes crawl through your veins? Or your bones vibrate with the need to murder? To get on your fucking knees and lick the boots of the one that holds the key to your collar?"
The tears in my eyes now weren't for my own pain, but his. I sniffed, and Severus started petting me, running his fingers through the greying strands at my temple.
"Such a noble beast," he murmured, and his voice had lost that harsh quality from only a moment ago. His hand drifted to my face, tracing the long scars across my nose and cheek. "Nobody wanted to touch you after this, did they?"
A sob welled in my throat so strong I could not suppress it. "No," I choked, my tears falling to the floor.
Severus pressed the pad of his thumb beneath my eye and swiped at the moisture. "He didn't cry when I killed him."
I inhaled sharply and tried to move away, but Severus, still lying with his cheek on the floor facing me, took hold of my face and kept me there.
"Dumbledore didn't cry," he reiterated, and my stomach turned. "He smiled at me."
"Why?" I was so horribly confused; this Severus was unlike any aspect of the man that I had known before, and the haze of drug-induced reactions and swift changes of mood were utterly disorienting.
Now he was sneering, the twist of his lip ugly and cruel. "No doubt because he was going on to his 'next great adventure' while leaving me here to endure more pain and…" He trailed off, confused. Another memory block. His hand dropped from my face and curled into a fist, which he banged on the wooden floorboard. "Why?" he roared, his nose pressed to the floor. "Why?"
Almost as suddenly as it had begun, Severus' tirade abruptly ended. As if he had been hit with a Stunner, he sagged limply, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed and deepened.
"Severus?" I ventured, waiting for the backlash.
When nothing happened, I rolled over with a groan. The pain was still there, but not as sharp as before. Unfortunately, there was no spell to help with this sort of thing. Well, there might have been, but I wasn't about to risk pointing my wand at my groin. I managed to stand, with no elegance or grace at all, and levitated Severus back onto the bed. I had half a mind to join him, exhausted as I was. Instead, I collapsed in the chair just as darkness swallowed my mind.
"Cold."
Something was pulling me from the depth of a warm cocoon.
"Warming Charm, please."
My mouth tasted like cotton as I pried one eye open to see Severus huddled in the corner of the bed, dressed in the t-shirt and pyjama bottoms I had given him, the duvet loosely wrapped around him. I blinked several times to adjust to the image, frowning. The lucidity that had eluded him for most of the previous day appeared to be very firmly in place this morning.
"I would cast one on myself," he said almost apologetically, "but I lack a wand. Please. A Warming Charm, if you would."
"Yes, of course," I said through an enormous yawn. I sent a ball of warmth his way, then slowly stood and stretched, my bones popping until sharp fire skittered across my lower back. "Bloody…" The twinges of pain stole my breath. "Right. No more sleeping in chairs." I limped to the door and looked back at Severus, who was watching me pensively. "Think you could manage something to eat?"
He nodded, then furrowed his brows in concentration. "You are unwell."
His words were not exactly monumentally perceptive; anyone who took more than a casual glance at me could tell I was less than optimal. I shrugged and gave him a small smile. "Old age," I explained.
His eyes narrowed. "Lie."
"Really, Severus, it's fine; I'll be right as rain by—"
"Lie," he said, more forcefully.
"Relax. We're supposed to be focusing on getting you better, and—"
"Lie!" he gritted through his teeth, almost spitting the word. He snorted, mirthlessly. "And the next thing out of your mouth will be a lie as well, so save your breath." He gave me a disgusted look. "Your whole pathetic life is built upon lies, with only enough of the truth thrown in so you look believable. You tell me that you will not hurt me, that you won't turn me over to them, but why should I believe you? It seems your greatest achievement is lying to yourself; lying to others must look like Beginner's Potion class."
"Don't!" I said, anger rising. I clenched and unclenched my fist, desperately trying to get my temper under control. "You know nothing about me!"
He snorted and turned away. "Go away. I'm not hungry."
"Oh, no," I said, furious now. "You're not pulling this shite!" I stalked across the room until I was good and proper in his face, his hooked nose touching mine. "Listen well, Severus Snape. I pulled you out of that room you were locked in. I have given up my time, my home, even my son—who is infinitely more precious to me than you will ever be—to care for you to the best of my abilities. So don't you dare accuse me of not helping you.
"You want to talk about lies and betrayal? Whoever was holding you was force-feeding you an opium derivative on an almost constant basis, which is damaging at best and lethal at worst, for Merlin knows what reason. Compliance is the most obvious, but one of the side-effects is memory loss, so whoever was dosing you was also subtly trying to kill you because there was no way you were going to be able to remember anything with that much of the drug in your system. You were also being tortured—do you know how many of your bones had been broken? Or that two were broken when we found you? What do you know that has someone so hell-bent on extracting it that they don't care if they kill you?"
Severus tucked his head, trying to bury it in the duvet, but I grabbed his chin roughly and refused to let him look away. "I understand you don't want to tell me, truly I do. I get that you don't trust me. I don't know what you do remember and what you don't, but I'm not asking you to tell me. Honestly, I don't think I want you to tell me. But I can't keep you safe if you fight me at every turn. Now, I'll ask again: do you think you can manage to eat something?"
He looked as if he would refuse again, but he surprised me by nodding. I sighed heavily, let go of his chin and made my way to the door, unable to hide the limp on my right side.
"Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes," I told him, and shut the door.
"You are unwell."
Oh, not this again.
It was the fourth day free of the potion, but only the second time he had sat at the table in the kitchen. The first time he had made it down, he had collapsed on the sofa afterwards and I'd had to levitate him back upstairs. Hallucinations, another seizure and me scrambling to keep him from jumping out of a second-story window, had followed that afternoon. He had managed to keep a bowl of mashed bananas and rice, and two cups of tea in his stomach that evening, though, so I counted it as a small victory that he had been able to sleep through the night without much interruption. Now, he peered intently at me, as if dissecting me with his eyes, causing my irritation from the loss of sleep and the chronic throb of pain to flare and simmer just beneath the surface.
"I am fine this morning, only a twinge." He couldn't call me a liar on that one, as he had two days before; this time it was true. Well, mostly true.
"If by twinge you mean sharp, stabbing pain, then certainly, only a twinge," he muttered, condescension dripping from his words.
I let my fork clang to my plate in annoyance. "This is not up for discussion."
He steepled his fingers and pressed them to his lips, studying me.
"What?" I snapped.
"Two weeks; three at most," he answered cryptically.
I shoved my plate to the side, sat back until my chair tilted on two legs and crossed my arms. "For what?"
A slow smirk curled his lips. "I thought it wasn't up for discussion?"
"Tell me," I grated, tired of his games.
"Fine," he said with a wave of his hand. "That is my prognosis on your lifespan if you remain stubborn."
My chair came thudding back down to the floor. "My... lifespan?"
He nodded and pointed to my hand. "I told you I could cure that. If I do not, the spell will continue to infect your system. Your next transformation will be your last."
I sighed, my eyes closing in resignation. Yes, he had said that he remembered who I was, and events surrounding me, but now he had undeniably confirmed that he knew I was a werewolf. I was morbidly curious enough to wonder if he knew about it before he recalled who I was. "When did you know?"
Severus snorted. "I have always known. Did I not tell you that I remembered you, Remus Lupin?"
I gaped at him, feeling as though I'd been punched in the chest. He had known, all along? "But you always hated me! Why did you tolerate me taking care of you if he knew who I was?"
He looked away, uncomfortable. "Perhaps you were the only who would tolerate helping me."
The dull ache that resided in my chest concerning Severus bloomed into a sharp, prickling pain. I smiled when I wanted to weep. "You are the epitome of a problem patient, I'll give you that."
Severus' reply was drowned out by a frantic voice calling my name from the sitting room, and a moment later, Harry was standing at the entry to the kitchen. He went pale when his eyes caught sight of Severus sitting across the table from me.
"Snape?" he stammered, staring, clutching the doorpost to keep himself upright.
"Yes?" Severus replied with an arched brow. His nonchalance and affected blank look gave the appearance that he had no idea who Harry was.
Harry lost his grip and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.
