Elisus - Chapter 8

Thank you for the continued support of this story; a longer chapter to set up the second half of the plot. ~ SS19


Hogwarts School loomed tall and proud on the horizon, towers seeming to reach for the heavens and make them all the more attainable. Severus stopped to regard it, as always awed by its sheer majesty and the comfort the view so effortless offered. Hogwarts was home.

A number of short distance Apparations had exhausted him but he dared not risk any further in case of accident or them being split up. Now they were in a small glade outside Hogsmeade village, protected by a charm…just in case. Severus knew well that there were those who still hunted him for his betrayal, and past experience had taught him that a vanquished Dark Lord may not be truly…permanent. Albus was sat against a tree behind him, asleep. Lucky for some, Severus mused. He would not sleep until they were both back within those stone walls. He did not really understand why he was so anxious. He knew what he was going to say.

Of course he knew what he was going to say when they arrived. "Good evening Headmistress McGonagall, thought Albus was dead? Well, surprise!" In his head the scene was amusing and he knew that was just a cover for his growing sense of dread. What if they thought him responsible for the state Albus was now in? What if they did not believe him? What if they rejected him? What if he wasn't welcome? He had, after all, told them and shown them and bluffed them that Albus was dead. They had all seen the body, they had all mourned his loss and they had all grieved for his life. Severus also could not deny that they may also have moved on. He had to consider that a distinct possibility. He would be opening old wounds, but he truly believed he had no choice now. It had been many months, and the question was whether it had been too many months.

Of course, Minerva and her colleagues had tried to find him too in those days after the war when he had fled. Beside the errant letter that managed to find him, she had had little success and Severus was keen to keep her believing that. He knew that would have hurt her the most, for her maternal instinct was strong and despite being the Gryffindor matriarch he knew she cared for him more than she showed. It was mutual, of course. He had wanted to seek her support and her help many times over the past difficult months, knowing that she would be able to take command of the situation where he simply could not, and perhaps she would have even been able to shake Albus back into his right self. But how could he possibly explain, even to those who he deemed family? He glanced behind him at the sleeping Albus, hands tucked into his robes, looking perhaps the definition of peace. How was he supposed to explain this away…?

How was he supposed to explain this away? Lying in a crumpled heap in the middle of the deserted Hogwarts grounds, not willing to move and reveal the damage to his screaming aching burning right arm, aware the sun was beginning to set. It would be nightfall soon and he….would still be here, at this rate. Blasted broomstick, he cursed, in all his twenty-six years he had never mastered the art of flying on an animated broom and had been relieved before when the Dark Lord had offered to teach him how to fly without the aid of such an unpredictable and sentiment…object. But that was an unnatural ability, born of the Dark and fuelled by the Dark, and Dumbledore wanted him to show true reform, and Severus was eager to please Dumbledore. Speaking of…

"Severus? Severus, are you out here?" An unmistakable voice, and one with a rather bright lamp no less. Fantastic, Severus growled to himself, as he buried his head further into his robes and the grass. Just what he needed. His peripheral vision was suddenly bathed in light. "What are you doing on the ground, child?"

He hated the use of the phrase child. He was not a child, except in proportion to Dumbledore's advanced years. "Sleeping, obviously, Headmaster." He let his tone imply more sarcasm than he desired but then again it had always been his defence mechanism. "Perhaps not the wisest place to sleep, Severus. Up you get." A pause. Frustration rose in him. A longer pause. Dumbledore said nothing, which was clever, because it meant Severus had to admit, "I cannot."

Instantly Dumbledore was kneeling beside him and his tone had changed. "Why? What is the matter?" Such concern, such genuine concern, and how desperately Severus wanted it, tired of being alone, tired of fighting every battle with an army of one, tired of hiding, "My arm hurts."

Dumbledore did not respond immediately and Severus remained still, part of him wanting to be strong and part of him wanting to be vulnerable, wanting to be looked after… "Were you practising flying, my boy?" The voice was so gentle now, as was the hand that rested on his good shoulder and sent sweeping warmth through his body, and how desperately Severus wanted to be Dumbledore's boy, someone to care for him without condition. "Perhaps I should book you lessons…now, you need to sit up so I can see the damage, which will mean being brave."

'Being brave' was what Severus said to homesick Slytherin first years. So why did it make him feel so…? He did as he was told but the moment he moved there was an explosion of pain and he felt the once sturdy ground tilt beneath him. There was roaring in his ears and he couldn't hear his own breathing and in the expanse of disembodied time, he now inhabited it was hot and cold, and everything in between —

"Severus."

A voice, an anchor, for him to cling to. He was rescued from the darkness and that voice would guide him — home —

He opened his eyes and Albus was sat beside him, tucking his wand away with one hand. "A simple break and one easily fixed, and we will not tell Poppy for fear of the tedious paperwork she will inflict upon us both as punishment." His comment was light-hearted and genial but Severus could sense some emotion that he could not identify or recognise. "I…thank you." Severus shook his head, "You said I should use a broomstick, but I…am no expert." He glared at the offending broom, flexing his repaired fingers, "Cursed things."

Still, Albus did not move and Severus was starting to feel confused. "I'm fine, Headmaster, you can go, now, if you want to…" He was becoming aware of a new warmth, but one with familiarity too.

"I'd rather not, Severus and - ah - ruin the moment…."

Severus glanced down to his left hand and found his fingers grasping Albus', tight. What surprised him though was that, armed with this new information, he did not instantly pull away. He would have always pulled away in the past. Why… Albus moved his other hand to his cheek and with a careful finger wiped the streak of salty water away, while his hand lingered. He did not speak, and neither did Severus, but maybe there was nothing else to be said…

Severus flinched out of his reflection when he heard movement behind him. Hogwarts had powerful healing abilities and he would rely on them now, when he managed to get them home.


Albus watched as Snape, clearly tired from the constant Apparating, sat cross legged on the grass with his back to Albus. He seemed to think Albus asleep, and that was an illusion Albus was happy to maintain while he planned his next move. They were closer to Hogwarts now, he could see his beloved castle upon the horizon - but he still could not Apparate alone. He needed Snape for that, although he was beginning to feel a sense of urgency.

If he reached Hogwarts with Snape, what if they believed he was Snape? What if they took him in? That was very dangerous because they would not realise that he was not Albus' Severus, and then he would be protected, because Hogwarts had considerable powerful magic within its walls - magic to heal, yes, and magic to protect. But magic to empower, and this Snape was dark, and that was that.

Albus opened his eyes when he was sure Severus was distracted and observed his captor. He looked lost in some memory and from the expression on his face it was not one of any pain or sadness. Albus could do that too, clinging to those turning points with Severus so he did not forget the soldier he had lost, moments when their friendship had transformed into something stronger.

Like the time Severus had fallen off his broomstick, and Albus had found him in the grounds in a rather undignified heap, and the stubborn Severus had refused to move and had refused to come in, covered in mud and grass and wounded pride. He told that story often, at first to the severe glare of his younger counterpart, and then over time the severe glare had softened with the influence of nostalgia and he could often make Severus smile while telling it. Of course, it was not the innocuous tale others considered it to be. Albus knew the importance of that moment in their lives, and now, when Severus was lost and Albus was lost too, it brought him only pain to know he would never tell it again, to hear Severus' indignation that he was not covered in mud and that he had not been out there for hours.

Albus considered that the only benefit of cursed insanity was that he could indulge his imagination without judgement. Flights of fancy now were his entire world, not reserved for moments of stillness.

"Severus?" He swept the lamp across the grounds, looking for a cloaked figure brooding or sulking or contemplating, "Severus, are you out here?" It was long past dinner and Severus, though known for not eating much, was always present at dinner to glare at Gryffindors and shut down idle conversation with a well-rehearsed cutting remark that Albus found quietly amusing. Severus and Sybil were always entertaining, after all. Movement caught his attention and he cast the light in the direction. A pile of black and moments of interrupting pale - ah - "What are you doing on the ground, child?" He used child to deliberately wind the younger wizard up, knowing that the ex-Death Eater loathed the term - and also to hide his initial concern. He knew Severus was volatile, prone to moments of madness driven into his heart by the memories of his past./

"Sleeping, obviously, Headmaster."

Today was clearly not one of those days. Severus' tone was laced in sarcasm and that was sufficient for Albus in terms of assessing mood, but it did not explain why he was on the ground, with very little moment beyond the rise and fall of his shoulders to suggest breathing. "Perhaps not the wisest place to sleep, Severus. Up you get." A pause, then, and a longer pause to follow it, and Albus knew to stay silent. He knew that his stubborn Severus would need silence, for despite how much Severus he liked the silence of his dungeons, Albus knew that a man with that many demons could not truly love silence. "I cannot." This was not what Albus had been expecting, and his entire demeanour was transformed by concern as he knelt by the boy, knowing that such an admission would mean his trespass into Severus' personal space would be welcomed. "Why? What is the matter?" He wanted to touch Severus, to soothe him, seeing the child hidden behind the mistakes of the past and knowing he could have done so much more for this boy that he had left behind, a mistake he would make right, make amends for.

"My arm hurts."

Severus' tone had adopted something of emptiness and Albus knew that he was embarrassed and he hoped that it was only injured pride that pained his Slytherin counterpart. He looked around, wondering if Severus had been attacked, whether he had simply fallen, whether - his eyes fell upon a broomstick, a safe enough distance away to suggest it feared retribution from its fallen master. A broomstick, which would never be Severus' ally, Albus mused. Severus would never be told what to do by an object after all. "Were you practicing flying, my boy?" He lowered his tone and reached out a hand to gently stroke Severus' exposed shoulder, trusting this to be the one that was not hurt, and was rewarded with how the other just slightly moved into the gesture, seeking the comfort Albus so desperately wanted to provide. "Perhaps I should book you lessons…now, you need to sit up so I can see the damage, and that will mean being brave." Severus was, above all things, brave. His movement startled Albus but the terrible grimace on his young face showed that he was in much pain and any colour drained from his face - and his fingers suddenly grasped Albus' in distressed need. Albus was taken aback - Severus Snape had never sought such support, and although Albus was convinced the other was not quite lucid due to pain, his grip was strong. He would not break it, but he would repair the break in Severus' arm. He waved his wand without much thought, for healing magic came easily to him, and he wanted to consider how Severus' breaking of the boundary in their relationship made him feel - whatever paternal feelings he had already amassed for the mending dark wizard before him intensified tenfold and he swore he would always keep Severus safe - and even as he seemed to collect himself, he did not withdraw his hand. "Severus."

Severus opened his eyes and looked at Albus, any confusion that obscured his gaze clearly relatively quickly due to his considerable resilience and pain threshold. Albus did not move, he could not move, he would not lose the connection which he was not sure that the conscious Severus was truly aware of. He had sought, for so long, such recognition from Severus that there was something they could build upon and that they were friends and that he accepted that Albus wanted to rebuild him and make things better and greater. That between them, they could achieve anything…

"I…thank you." Severus continued to meet Albus' gaze, "You said I use a broomstick, but I am no expert." A glare, filled with venom, shot towards the broomstick and Albus fought the urge to laugh. "Cursed things."

Still he did not, could not move. This was beginning to unsettle Severus, which amused Albus too. "I am fine, Headmaster. You can go now, if you want to." Always the moment of indecision from Severus, as if he was unworthy of attention in his direction, unworthy of company. "I'd rather not, Severus." He had to draw attention to it now, he had to see how Severus reacted, "And - ah- ruin the moment."

Now Severus glanced to where their hands were together and he did not pull away, and Albus was startled to see a tear escape the dark eyes which again he did not feel Severus was aware of. He knew then, that Severus just desperately wanted someone to fight for him and champion him and care for him and show him that he was worth something, anything, in this dangerous and splintered post war world. He needed to be told that, but Albus had already tried with words, so what else could he say now - he reached out and touched Severus' cheek, gently, almost affectionately, swiping the tear away that did not belong on such a face. There were no words this time, but he knew he could say that all he wanted to say with just one gesture.

Albus forced himself out of the memory, staring again at Snape's back, the hand in his robe wrapped around the piece of glass with the sharp end he was careful not to touch. He had given so much for Severus, so much of himself, he had let Severus see parts of him no other person had seen, he had told Severus of things he would never tell another living soul, and here was Snape pretending to be that Severus. How Albus longed to have the revenge he had promised to Severus, how satisfying it would be - he was going to pull the glass from his robe - he could do it now - he could end this, and he could find his own way to Hogwarts, for he was Albus Dumbledore and he was the most powerful wizard of his time - but as he moved, his elbow knocked the trunk of the tree behind him and Snape reacted. He pushed the glass away as Snape stood, and detachedly accepted the hand that Snape offered him to help him to his feet. Next time, it would be. For now though, Hogwarts awaited, and there people would understand him. Hogwarts was, after all, home.


The forest and the village were behind them now, and Hogwarts lay ahead. Severus could see, almost, the carved patterns on the ornate doors as he walked with Albus propped up against one shoulder - the other was nearing exhaustion and Severus knew he was not far behind - but the destination was in sight now and that provided purpose and motivation and stamina to his every step.

The grounds were deserted, much as they had been that night on the memory that he was still carrying close to the forefront of his conscious mind. The paths were well trod, and even Albus seemed to straighten when they passed the hut that belonged to the old half giant. Severus remembered school day memories and distant memories and war memories - hunting for ingredients, hiding from bullies, talking with her - always in a place where he would find eventual acceptance and a true place. He longed to be a Potions Master once again.

The fact their passage was not hampered in any way surprised him and he wondered if that was in fact Albus' presence - the school, sentient though it was in many ways - knew only Albus' magical signature and did not know that this was a man raised from the dead. He raised his hand and knocked three times on the wooden entrance door - not surprised when Albus pushed him away so he could stand on his own, catching himself before he fell on the archway that surrounded the wood. Albus glanced at him and then rested one hand upon the door - it unlocked and open and bade him entrance because of course it would, and Severus felt a spike of fury that the school would recognise Albus but not all that Severus had sacrificed to come this far. He stepped into the hall with Albus, a step behind, as always - ready to catch the older wizard should he fall.

The hushed marble beauty of the Entrance Hall and the Grand Staircase had them both silent - Severus felt he should say something, but in that same moment he felt as though he could not. He took a step forward so he was level with Albus and felt the other wizard's gaze upon him. He chanced a glance back and saw almost friendliness in the other's face, relief, perhaps even a sense of gratitude - before footsteps caught both their attentions. They were slow footsteps at first, to assess the intruder in an empty school - and then - rushed - and then slowed, very slow, as if in disbelief. "Al…Albus?"

Severus looked up in the direction of Minerva McGonagall and any words he had tried to formulate for this moment to explain disappeared before he could even remember how to form the syllables in his mouth. She had eyes only for Albus at first, taking him in, as he did her - before she finally moved her gaze to him. "Severus!" He could no longer look at her, casting his gaze to the floor, not sure what to say, knowing what her logical mind would prompt her to do next - and sure enough, with all the predicability of a Gryffindor, she knew her eyes were deceived and drew her wand. "Do not move."

Severus went to speak, but Albus beat him there, "Minerva. Your eyes do not deceive you." His voice was stronger than Severus had heard it in a considerable while, but he remained silent and…tired. He was so very tired.

"It cannot be, Albus. I saw you die. We all did. Severus was….Severus was with you…." Minerva wanted to believe, and that was why she took a step forward but could not believe, which is why she did not lower her wand. "We all saw it…"

"It was a lie." Severus spoke the same words he knew Albus would, and he was not sure how this situation would play out, and the revelation that he had wanted to say for so, so, so many weeks now spilled from his lips unbidden. "I…I'm sorry…" His voice broke, "I had to."

He expected Albus to speak, but the other did not. Minerva surveyed him, and she saw all that a mother's eyes could see - Severus' exhaustion, his broken spirit, his hopelessness, his emotion and his bleeding heart - and she judged it to be at least genuine. "I do not understand, Severus."

Severus wrung his hands, unable to maintain any facade which might bely impassiveness - what was the point of that now, he had to make Minerva understand that what he said was the truth - "The Dark Lord used a curse, I know the curse, I couldn't let him live with the outcome of such magic but I…" He swallowed, and he looked to Albus, and his eyes were pleading, "But I could not kill him either. So I stole him away, I wanted to fix him, but I…I…I cannot." He was disgusted at his own tears, he did not want them to be viewed as emotional manipulation, but regardless they would not stop. Minerva continued to consider him - "We searched for you. We wrote to you. We tried to find you. We wanted to be there for you. In your time of…loss." She looked back to Albus, and then back to Severus, who shook his head in defeat, "I wanted to protect him. I wanted to fix him. I wanted to fix you, Albus!"

Albus surveyed Snape for a long moment, relying on the powerful magic that lingered in the very air within Hogwarts' walls to give him strength for mere more minutes. He then watched Minerva, who was clearly being swayed by false tears although he once again had to admit that Snape's display was very convincing, enough to perhaps be real, but what did Albus need now? Snape had returned him to Hogwarts - he was unnecessary now - whether he was Severus or someone masquerading as him, he had lost his Severus a long time before and he was not someone who could be raised from the dead. "This is not Severus." He gestured one hand to the younger wizard, who flinched. "He is masquerading as him. Severus was lost in the battle."

Minerva shook her head, "No, Albus, he was not. Severus survived, he stood with Harry on the final day. Injured perhaps…" Her gaze lingered on the visible scarring to Severus, "But not dead."

Albus considered this new information, delivered with honesty from Minerva. "Be that as it may, this is not my Severus. This man has kept me from my friends, has tried to poison me, has hurt me." His voice was matter of fact, despite how the other reacted. "My Severus would not do that."

"I have tried to save you!" Severus cried, blackness beginning to threaten his vision now. "I have been there, every single treacherous day and night watching the only person I have ever truly loved slipping away, the only person who ever championed me turning on me, moment by moment - as you are now!" His voice hitched and he could not stand it any longer, "I give up. You win, Albus. Clearly, I am not the man I once was, for if I was, you would at least recognise it because you were the only person who ever saw anything worth seeing in me." He turned away, shoulders shaking, desperately searching for some calm in the turmoil of emotions he now called himself.

"Albus. I can promise you Severus did not die in the war." Minerva reached out - to Albus - taking his hand. "But you…you I saw die."

"It is me, Minerva. Ailing, perhaps - but not dead. You know this to be true." Albus tightened the grip on her fingers, but all the while he did not drop all his attention from Snape. There was time, aeons of it, to convince Minerva he was who he claimed to be; but while Snape was alive, this man was dangerous, and now he was nearest to those Albus called his dearest.

Ever the peacemaker, Minerva was about to speak when -

"Minerva, what is the disturbance?" Another woman's voice. Severus straightened his back because this was a voice who had talked him through many a dark night and healed many an injury. Relief swept through him - for this was -

"Poppy. I…" Minerva stumbled, "I am lost for words."

The Healer leaned on the bannister next to the doorway from where she had just emerged and stared, and stared, and stared, and then started. "Not possible."

"Apparently possible, Poppy." Minerva supplied, and Albus as always admired how pragmatic she could be even when everything seemed upside down. "Perhaps you could help Severus…"

It was the way Snape had turned to stare at Poppy that had alarmed Albus. She watched him, too, seeing something that no one else could see - something that Minerva could not see, and something Albus was loath to admit that he could not interpret either - but then her gaze moved to him, and he knew then that his time was limited and he would need to act. Snape moved one step toward Poppy, and Albus moved. He grabbed a hold of Snape's arm and his weight pulled them both to their knees, and he stared into Snape's face.

Severus, caught by surprise, tried to take the brunt of Albus' movement so that the older wizard was not harmed - Minerva took a step back, gesturing to Poppy who was observing from a safer distance, putting the facts together, listening, intently.

"Albus. Albus, it will be well - look, see, Poppy will understand and between us we will fix you and we will make you better. Please, Albus, you have to see me - now - you have to! You saw me before, please, see me now." His dark eyes begged Albus' blue, hands gripping the forearms of the older wizards tightly, needing this more than anything. When his grip slackened slightly Albus pulled one arm away from him. He reached out to Severus' face and his fingertip made contact with the tears that Severus had not wiped away, and there was a shadow of a frown on that wizened face as he tried to see, "Severus?"

Severus pulled them both back to his feet, letting Albus rest against his side, the hand that had been touching his face dropping to hang between them. "Poppy. The Dark Lord used the Elisus curse, that is what this is, I can explain everything else, just please, he needs sleep."

Poppy knew the curse, that much was clear from her face as she moved to close the gap between her and Albus, but she saw it first - followed momentarily by Minerva - but neither of their cries reached Severus before the whisper from Albus, "You are not my Severus."

And Severus would never know if the pain he felt was from the sharp piece of glass stabbing into his side and being pulled upwards to tear through flesh and muscle and valuable organ beneath - or because he finally felt his weary heart, break.