Chapter 8
Albus leaves soon after, casting a quick scourify on my robes, which I had forgotten had been soiled by Severus, and instructs me to lie down and rest. I know I should; I can feel a slight dizziness whirling around in my head, but I just can't bring myself to take my eyes off of Severus. He has to be all right. He just has to be! The treatment should work. It's worked for others before. I sweep the thought that I have never before used the treatment on someone subjected to a Cruciatus for such a long span of time out of my mind. I can't think like that. The principles are the same; it should still work.
The curse's magic, I have found in my research, binds to the blood cells of the victim, like a parasite, taking sustenance from the victim's body to strengthen and grow itself. The more applications received, the more cells are infected. Between applications, the magic's bonds grow stronger, and subsequent applications borrow this new strength from the previous magical deposits, growing exponentially. Eventually, the curse's magic takes over the cells and the wizard or witch's magical core, causing total incapacitation or death. Thus, a key component of effective treatment is ridding the body of the infected cells, particularly the ones that have had ample time to incubate, through techniques like Muggle transfusion. I discovered the hard way that blood letting and blood replenishing potions are ineffective, as the potion merely replicates the body's current blood cells, replacing the cells lost with others that are already infected. Thus, a new, clean blood supply must be introduced.
A moan of pain shakes me from my mental cataloging of the treatment procedure, and hope blossoms fully in my heart. I gaze down and see Severus's deep black eyes looking back up at me. They are still glassy and unfocused, but he is squinting and moving them around, attempting to get his bearings, which is an excellent sign. The eyes that I could easily drown in shift downwards towards his chest, where I realize I have taken his hand up in between both of mine, and am clutching it securely. He looks back up to me questioningly.
I slowly remove my hands from his, feeling a profound loss at the cessation of contact and move to take up my wand, casting a barrage of diagnostic spells. "How are you feeling?" I ask him softly.
My words seem to bring him fully back to awareness as he attempts to snap himself up into a sitting position. "No!" I warn, but it is too late. He grabs his head, growling as pain shoots up it, then collapses back onto the bed, cursing angrily.
"You need to rest, Severus," I tell him softly.
"What happened?" he seethes.
"You collapsed. Has this happened before?" I ask, knowing he will not be forthcoming about his affliction, but also knowing that it is imperative to get such information from him if I have any chance of saving him. As expected, he merely huffs and turns his face away from me. "Severus, you must tell me. Don't you understand how imperative this is? If you don't let me help you, you could die!" I cry.
"Then let me die!" he shouts, suddenly turning to me with stony eyes and a cold scowl.
"What?" I whisper.
"Why should I live? There is nothing here for me. Death would be warranted, and the sweetest of reprieves," he yells as he fights through the pain and sits up. "No one will miss me when I'm gone," he adds bitterly.
"That's not true!" I counter vehemently, to which he simply scoffs. "It's not! Albus would miss you,"
"He would miss having a valuable tool to utilize for his dangerous whims, nothing more," he retorts.
"No, he would miss you. He would mourn you," I try to impart, but to no avail. "And so would I," I add imploringly.
"You? Now I am certain you are lying. You have no reason to be concerned for me, unless you are seeking a culmination to the longest prank in history," he sneers.
"For Merlin's sake, Severus! I've told you before, that wasn't a prank! I was never working with Black and I never intended to kiss him! He had been incessantly flirting with me so I played along to prank him. When he went in for a kiss I wapped him on the nose with the damn Daily Prophet! The whole Hall laughed at him! You might have enjoyed it if you hadn't stormed out before seeing it."
"Why should I believe anything you say?" he asked with vitriol dripping off of each word. "The Marauders were always superb liars." So were the Death Eaters, I almost counter.
"If I was part of the Marauders then why did I punch Potter in the face in sixth year? Why did you never see me with them? Why didn't I go out with Black and marry the murdering bastard if I was so infatuated with him?" I shout, frustration having taken over my ability to be reasonable. "Tell me, Severus? WHY?" For a moment he seems to be dumbfounded and speechless. Softening my voice and moving closer to him slowly, I continue. "If I was one of them, then why did I love you?" I want to add, 'and why do I still love you', but I restrain myself, knowing this is not the time to confess my current feelings to him, let alone try to analyze them.
"Love," he scoffs, though I notice a flash of longing and hurt in his eyes before he turns away from me. "No one has ever loved me. Why would they?" he says without self pity, only acrimony.
"Because of your amazing intelligence," I suggest, "and your biting, witty humor. Because of your deep, burning eyes, and your smoky, soulful voice. Because of your intense dedication to whatever you put your mind to, and that cat-like grace you carry your sexy, lithe body with. And most importantly, because of your unbelievable strength in facing so much misery and darkness, but never letting it break you."
He stares at me in wide-eyed disbelief and I can see an internal battle raging as to whether or not I am being sincere and if he should believe me or not. Suddenly his eyes go cold again, though, and I know he has decided that I must be pandering to him.
"Darkness? What could you, the professor's pet and perfect little Prefect, possibly know of darkness?" he jeers as he subconsciously moves his right hand to his left forearm.
"More than you know," I counter softly, raising my eyes from his covered arm to his mysterious eyes. He raises his top lip in a small sneer and looks as if he is about to mock my statement. "We don't all have a tattoo to remind us of when we succumbed to the allure of the darkness, but that doesn't make it any less real," I assert quietly.
His hand automatically grips his forearm, and then I see the furious fire light in his eyes; a fire I haven't seen since I was sixteen, alone with him on the Astronomy Tower. "You had no right! You have invaded my privacy!" he bellows, rising to stand so that he may use his significant height advantage against me. He sways slightly with the effort of the movement upon his weakened body, but he quickly covers it and leans in close to me so that his prodigious nose is mere millimeters from my own.
"Yes, but it was necessary, and unintentional," I explain calmly. He is clearly shocked at my lack of a reaction, but I believe he would be even more flabbergasted if I actually let my true emotions show. He expects me to cower, to be petrified of being alone in this room with an angry Death Eater who is so close and threatening me, and I know I should be, but the only effect his heated words and intimidating proximity are having upon me is one of immense arousal. He's so close, I could move just a little and have his glorious lips on mine. I could reach out right now and hook my arms around his shoulders, pulling that long, exquisite form to me, pressing every inch of his body tightly to mine. I could make him use all that heat and passion, rage and fire, to throw me down, tear off my clothing, and ravish me, to fuck me through the bloody mattress! I blink to clear my mind of the erotic images and thoughts that have invaded it, returning myself to the conversation and his perplexed, narrowed glare. "I had to lett some of your blood to do a transfusion and save your life. I saw the Mark when I rolled up your sleeve to do this," I explain, amazingly keeping most of the heavy lust out of my voice.
"You saw the Mark before you treated me?" he asks, clearly confused.
"Yes," I confirm with my own bewilderment coming through. Why does that matter?
"Why? Why didn't you let me die after you saw it? You do realize what it means right? That I am a murderer. That I am evil. That I am part of the group that is trying to rip the very fabric of the Wizarding world apart!" he shouts as he gestures wildly with his hands, something I have never seen him do.
"I don't believe you are evil," I say. He immediately huffs in response. "And even if you are, it isn't my place to decide who is worthy enough to live and who deserves to die. Making that decision once was more than enough for me, thank you very much."
He is still glaring at me, but there is a hint of intrigue and curiosity in his expression as well now. I can tell he wants to ask me about my cryptic statements, but doesn't want to give me the satisfaction of knowing he has any interest in anything regarding me. After a few silent moments he raises a dark arched eyebrow in question.
"I've never told anyone what I am about to tell you, Severus. I know you probably don't believe that, but it's true. My best friend doesn't know it, my brother doesn't know it, even Albus doesn't know it. The only other living soul who knows what you are about to be told, is my mother. If anyone else finds out, my career, my family, my very life would be torn asunder and irrevocably destroyed. Do you understand?" I ask imperatively, searching his obsidian eyes for comprehension.
He nods slightly, having now regained the ramrod straight posture and tightly clasped arms behind his back stance that he usually carried himself in. He was once again fully in control of himself and any pesky emotions that might try to escape again.
"Good. Then here goes," I start with a deep inhalation of breath to steady my frayed nerves.
"You're just going to tell me?" he asks in disbelief, with an edge that clearly adds 'what are you, an idiot?' to the end of the sentence. "Shouldn't you have me make an Unbreakable Vow to be silent, or at least make me promise to keep your 'immense secret'?" he spits.
"Probably; but I figure you are going to do whatever you want with the information, one way or another, so there isn't much point in going through those procedures. We both know you were always the consummate Slytherin, Severus. If you wanted to find a way around a promise or vow to me, you would."
He raises his brow again, but this time in a more surprisingly pleased manner. "True," he drawls slowly, then waits expectantly for me to spill my secret.
"On my eleventh birthday," I begin with a shallow, ragged breath, "I murdered my father."