Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling. This story belongs to me.
A/N- Hello my wonderful and faithful readers! I'm so overwhelmed with all the support and praise that everyone has been giving this story, and I thank each and every one of you. It means so much to me, and I only hope I can live up to your very high expectations for this story. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think!
~Strength in Weakness~
The Cure
When Snape finally made it back to the bedroom doorway almost two hours later, his slightly sweaty fingers clasped tightly around the small vial in his hand, he was greeted to a sight that deep down he had hoped not to see so soon. In truth, he had known that the boy would get worse, especially as the poison continued to weaken his lungs, but he had not been expecting it to be quite as bad as this.
Potter was moaning in pain, his thin and frail body twisting in the sheets as Poppy stood over him, furiously trying to whisper comfort in his ear. The boy appeared to still be unconscious, but it seemed to offer him little relief, and Snape felt his own breathing tighten as he watched the teenager struggle to cling on to life. Potter was clearly in a lot of pain, his breathing raspy and weak, and as bad as it was now, Snape knew that it was only going to get worse in the next minute or so.
"I have it," Snape told Pomfrey as he marched quickly into the bedroom, dragging his eyes forcibly away from the teenager on his bed. "It works in a similar way to the poison, only it attacks the poison rather than the body. It must be inhaled to work, which will be painful because of the damage already done to the boy's lungs." Snape paused before fixing his gaze firmly on Poppy, willing her to understand his next words. "It should take about ten minutes for all the poison to be destroyed; after that you will need to be ready to heal him."
Poppy, it seemed, understood perfectly, if the grim look on her face was anything to go by. She had realised, just as he had, that this treatment, this cure, was by no means certain to work. Potter's lungs were extremely taxed already, and from the faintly shaking limbs, Snape suspected that the poison had begun to spread through his blood stream to other parts of his body as well. This potion was extremely risky to use, especially with the boy in the state that he was, but Snape knew that they had no other choice.
Poppy steeled herself, and moved over to take the boy's hand. "Okay Severus. Now's as good a time as any."
Taking a deep breath himself, Snape moved over to the bed and knelt beside the boy. With a quick flick of his wand, he conjured two medical masks for Poppy and himself, before popping open the lid of the vial and holding it in front of the boy's face. The potion contained in the vial was smoking slightly, and would continue to do so for the next hour or so; it was those fumes that would hopefully save the boy's life.
"Come on, Potter," Snape muttered, willing the boy to breathe in the antidote. With his free hand, Snape grabbed Potter's head in a firm grip, trying to hold him still so that he inhaled as much of the fumes as possible. Potter fought him weakly, but after a brief struggle his strength appeared to leave him, and Snape had little trouble holding the vial in front of the boy's mouth and nose. Even accounting for his uneven breaths, it took longer than Snape expected for the boy to inhale the fumes, and Snape felt anxiousness unwillingly creep up on him as he silently willed the boy to accept the antidote. Potter could not die.
Potter groaned, but Snape held firm, even as pain crossed the boy's features and he began spluttering and coughing. Snape saw Poppy grip the boy's hand harder, but Potter seemed oblivious to her presence, his eyes clenched shut as the antidote began to work its way down into his lungs. It wouldn't take long for it to start to take effect...
Unable to take the tension any more, Snape glanced over to Poppy and met her eyes, his own worry reflected in her expression. She obviously cared for the boy, which given the amount of time Potter spent in the Hospital Wing was not necessarily unreasonable. What surprised Snape though, was the extent to which she liked him. Snape had never understood his colleagues when they spoke of Potter in such a positive manner, talking about how he was polite, modest and a model student. To Snape, the boy had never been anything but a arrogrant, rule-breaking brat with no respect for his elders. For years, Snape had been determined to remain unaffected by whatever charms the boy had been using on the other Professors, certain that Potter's true nature was more in line with his bullying bastard of a father than anything else. He had hated the boy all the more for it too.
Poppy though...Snape trusted the Medi-Witch, and knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't be fooled as easily as his other colleagues. He had never noticed before, but if even Poppy, who Snape genuinely respected, seemed to like Potter, why had he never seen that side of the Gryffindor? The boy was arrogant and disrespectful, that much he was certain of, but apparently Potter was not always like that. Poppy would not stand for it if he was, and she certainly wouldn't care for him as much as she clearly did. Of course, Snape had always gone out of his way to avoid the Potter spawn, seeing him only when absolutely necessary, but even then Snape had thought he had seen enough to know that the boy was exactly like his father. But why, then, did no one else agree?
Maybe, his traitorous mind supplied, it had something to do with his own treatment of Potter. Snape had never made a secret of how much he despised the boy, but he had never thought for one second that the boy didn't deserve it. But now, watching with hardened eyes as the boy struggled with each breath, a sheen of sweat forming across his brow with the effort, Snape couldn't help the tinglings of doubt from entering his mind...
He forced the guilt away with a force that drew on his Occlumency skills, telling himself sternly that they had bigger problems to worry about at the moment. Potter was hanging on to life by a thread, and these revelations would have to wait.
As if Potter had heard his thoughts, the boy's eyes snapped open, expressing fear and pain so intensely that Snape almost faltered. He froze, his eyes locked onto the boy's face as the teenager frantically searched the room, the green eyes behind the glasses glazed over. It was clear that Potter was lost in the haze of pain, stuck somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, and Snape felt the guilt start to creep up on him once again. The boy had never looked less like either of his parents.
"Harry," Poppy said softly, having noticed that the boy was a bit more conscious of his surroundings. "Harry, it's Madame Pomfrey. You're safe. You're going to be alright."
Potter didn't reply, his breath hitching slightly as he clenched his eyes in pain. Snape felt a small amount of pity for the boy as he watched impassively from his position by the door. After administering the cure, Snape had retreated as far away as possible whilst still remaining inside the room, deciding that it was not his job to offer the brat comfort. Poppy would deal with that.
He couldn't help but watch though, as Potter tried to steady his breathing, even despite the pain it was obviously causing him. Snape felt his respect for the boy rise almost against his will. That poison had caused grown men to cry out for their mothers after only a couple of minutes. Potter's lung damage might have been done in small amounts over what seemed to be a much longer period, but it was no less extensive. Aside from a small groan every now and then, Potter barely made as sound as he rode out the pain as the antidote began to take effect.
"That's it, Harry," Poppy soothed, rubbing her thumb across his hand as she held it. The boy seemed to take comfort in the gesture. "Not much longer to go now. It'll be over soon. Then you can rest."
She looked over to Snape with no small amount of concern, perhaps hoping that the things she was muttering to the boy were not necessarily wrong, but Snape couldn't bring himself to lie to her. Poppy frowned when she saw the look on his face and the slight shake of his head, but after a moment her expression took on a tone of defiance and she raised her shoulders slightly as she turned back to the boy.
"Harry," Poppy whispered furiously. "I know it hurts, but it's going to be okay. It'll be over soon. Just keep breathing. Please, keep breathing."
She looked desperate as she watched as the boy began writhe around in pain, the antidote working in full force now, but her hand never left his. Snape found his mind locked on the thoughts that had previously bothered him, thoughts of why in Merlin's name Poppy cared for Potter so much. What had she seen in the boy that he had apparently missed?
Potter took great gasping breaths as he gripped the Medi-Witch's hand tightly enough to bruise, but Poppy didn't seem to care. It was almost unbearable to watch, even for Snape, and he found that he had to forcibly stop himself checking his watch to see how much time had passed. They had a long way to go yet but, even though Snape was certain that the boy was as horrible as his father, despite the doubts that were beginning to burrow in his mind, he couldn't help but wish that he could take some of the boy's pain away. No one deserved this. Not even a Potter.
It took over ten minutes for the potion to work itself through Potter's body, and each second seemed like agony to the boy. It was no easier for Snape and Poppy to watch either, and with each pained breath that the boy took, Snape felt his own chest tighten slightly as he wondered if it would be Potter's last.
The boy was strong though, and despite the pain, struggled through it all with a stubbornness that surprised Snape. The boy had always seemed to him to be arrogant and lazy, but after the way Potter had dealt with the treatment, Snape found himself doubting even those assumptions. Potter had not once called out for help, nor asked for any pain relief; instead he had just stoically borne the pain, as if he knew that he had no other choice and had accepted it. It was not the way a spoilt, arrogant brat would have acted, that was for sure.
Pulling himself from his thoughts, Snape watched impassively now as Poppy began to work properly on repairing the boy's lungs, finding the task much easier now that her healing talents were no longer hindered by the effects of the poison. The boy had fallen unconscious again, but this time his face didn't seem to show the grimace of pain that had characterised it only moments before. Snape felt relief flow through him before he could even fully register what had happened.
"He's responding to my treatment, Severus," Poppy said softly, relief clear on her face as well. Snape deliberately schooled his features into an expression of indifference, but the knowing look in her eyes told him that she had seen his worry too.
Snape cleared his throat. "The boy will survive then."
"He will be weak for a few days," Poppy told him grimly. "His lungs took a lot of damage, so he might still find a bit of pain in his chest for the next week or so, but yes," she paused, sparing him a knowing grin, "He will survive."
Snape bit down the biting comeback that was itching to leave his tongue, and simply nodded, gesturing towards his living room. Potter was asleep now, and would remain so for the time being. Even though they now knew that Potter would recover, given time at least, their problems were by now means over. He and Poppy had a lot to discuss and a lot of decisions to make. With Dumbledore gone, and Umbridge in charge of the school, they would have to be careful with how they were going to proceed from now on. Poppy, thankfully, caught the serious look in his eyes, and after casting a quick monitoring spell over the now sleeping and oblivious Potter, followed him into the other room.
"What now?" Poppy sighed as she sank wearily into the sofa, accepting the cup of tea he had offered her with a grateful smile. "Harry can't stay here, not without Umbridge knowing."
"The boy isn't strong enough to be moved," Snape said gravely. He was reluctant to allow Potter to stay in his quarters, but he knew that he had little choice. "There is also the fact that we do not know who attempted to poison Mr. Potter, nor how it was administered. Until we do, Potter will need to be kept away from the general population of the school. He will be safe here."
Poppy nodded, and sipped from her tea. "We will need to come up with a plan then. To fool Umbridge, I mean. She can't know that Harry is sick, or she'll have him away from us before we could even begin to stop her."
Snape inclined his head in agreement, but he didn't speak, choosing instead to take a sip of his own steaming tea. It would certainly take some thought, and once again he cursed the fates for leading them to this point.
He gritted his teeth as he stared into his mug, his mind furiously working through all the options. If only they could contact Dumbledore, this mess would be solved much more easily, but the old man appeared to have disappeared off the face of the earth in the aftermath of Potter's little club being found out. No one knew where the man was, and Snape had no way to get hold of him. No, they would have to deal with the problem of Umbridge without the Headmaster's help.
Of course, it wasn't as simple as that.
There was more to consider than simply Umbridge's threat to the boy. Not only did they have to catch the person who had poisoned Potter in the first place, Snape also had to consider the Dark Lord's plans concerning the boy. There were spies amongst the students, Snape was sure of it, and if they got wind that Potter was weakened, they would tell the Dark Lord immediately, and Voldemort might choose that moment to attack.
There was no way they could stop the word getting out though, not when his fifth year Slytherins had all witnessed Potter fall. It would be common knowledge by tomorrow morning, but there was no way Potter was going to be recovered by then. He didn't have any idea how they were going to stop Voldemort finding out that Potter was weakened, and Snape felt a thrill of fear enter his heart for the first time in years. Potter, in the state he was in, simply couldn't handle an attack, either mental or physical, and the Dark Lord was capable of both. Snape took another deep swig of the hot liquid as he thought furiously for any solution to the problem, but nothing came to him.
It was beginning to look like Potter was the only one who was going to get any restful sleep that night.
A/N- So how was it? This was a fairly quick update, but I did try not to rush it too much. I hope it came across okay, and that Snape in particular was in character. I know Harry was briefly awake here, but he will make a much more convincing return to consciousness in the next chapter, and that's where things start to get really interesting!
Anyone want to guess at what Snape's solution might be to the problem of Umbridge finding out about Harry? I have got an idea in mind, but I'm always interested to see what you all come up with!
Also, I was asked by a reviewer recently, how long this story was going to be. In truth, I don't know. I have an outline in my head, and I know how the fic will end, but there are a lot of ideas running through my head that I want to include, all of which will make the story a lot longer than I originally planned. So, at the moment, I'm just seeing how it goes. It will be finished, I promise you, but whilst I don't want to drag the story out, I also don't want to rush it. I like the pace I'm going at at the moment, so look out for more of the same.
I really appreciate all your support, and your reviews make my day every single time I read one. Thank you so much for all your kind words. And lastly, thanks for reading!
