"You will notice," said Snape, in his low, sneering voice, "that we have a guest with us today."
Sure enough, Umbridge as perched on a stool in a dim corner of the dungeon classroom, her clipboard propped on her knee. She gave me a friendly smile when she caught me looking and I sent one back before turning back to focus on the lesson. I rolled my eyes once I was sure she couldn't see.
"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; it correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions," he waved his wand again "-on the board. Carry on."
"Umbridge is fond of you," Daphne observed as we began working. I shrugged.
"I've worked a deal out with her."
"It's surprising, considering how much she hates your brother," Tracey agreed.
"Well, I'm not my brother," I said shortly. Tracey blinked.
"I know," she said, narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously.
These days, keeping up with and pleasing the Slytherins was sliding lower and lower on my list of priorities. In a matter of months, perhaps, we'd all be trying to kill each other anyway and they'd be required to hate me for their own safety. I'd long know that, when push came to shove, I wouldn't be getting any support from my house. Friendliness wouldn't be enough to save me.
Except…
Against my will my eyes flicked to Malfoy. Would he? I mean, I knew he was a coward so I shouldn't expect much, but might he actually stand up for me if the occasion called for it? Even if he did, would I want him to? No, because that would be putting himself at unnecessary risk. I was already very much a lost cause. I didn't want anyone to be hurt or to die for me.
"Stop staring at Draco, Potter," Parkinson sneered. "We all know he'd never touch filth like you."
I blinked and flushed despite myself. I'd been lost in myself, hadn't even realized I was looking at Malfoy. He looked up from his potion, a bit of blonde hair coming loose and dangling in front of his eyes from the steam. He looked at me, a faint smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. Curse him, he really was good looking.
"Well if he won't touch me then you're definitely out of luck, Parkinson," I said breezily and reached for my bottle of salamander blood.
To my surprise, Parkinson just smirked. "We'll see how long you think that way, Potter. Your days are numbered, you know."
I raised an eyebrow, but I couldn't deny I was slightly surprised. Threats weren't uncommon from Parkinson, but they were usually not delivered so confidently or so maliciously. She was planning something, that was easy to tell. I wasn't overly concerned though – Parkinson was an average witch at best. Even if she got the drop on me I was confident I could turn it around.
"So are yours if you put pomegranate juice in that potion," I said, nodding to her. Parkinson sneered.
"Yeah right, nice try-" She tipped the bottle over her potion, which promptly turned a violent mauve and began to release great clouds of gas. I whipped out my wand and Vanished the potion before Snape could get over to us.
"A zero for today, Parkinson," Snape said grimly. "Potter, ten points to Slytherin for quick action."
"Thank you sir," I said, smiling serenely at Parkinson, who glared at me furiously.
As class went on, Umbridge finally rose from her corner and began to ask Snape questions. Keeping half of my attention on my potion, I listened in.
"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly to Snape's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."
Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.
"Now... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.
"Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable, which I knew was his way of hiding annoyance. Umbridge must piss him off as much as the rest of us.
"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Umbridge asked Snape.
"Yes," said Snape quietly.
"But you were unsuccessful?"
Snape's lip curled. "Obviously."
Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"
"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry.
"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.
"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.
"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.
"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.
"Oh yes," insisted Umbridge, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' - er - backgrounds."
I glared into my potion as I put the finishing touches on it. She was referring to Snape's history as a Death Eater. Yes, I knew, and yes, I forgave the man. I'd seen it myself in Dumbledore's memories only last year – he'd become a double agent and risked his life to try and bring Voldemort down. He was a hero, and Umbridge was acting like he was some parolee who couldn't be trusted.
I was about six years old. I hadn't meant to, really I hadn't, but somehow it just… did. The rug I'd been sitting on had floated up off the ground. I thought it was wonderful, a great sort of ride, and I'd been laughing and clapping my hands in delight as the rug bobbed gently in the air.
Then Uncle Vernon had come around the corner. He'd gone first very, very white and then very, very purple.
"Stop that!" he roared. The rug crashed down as fear and surprise washed over me – I hadn't noticed him. I yelped as my butt hit the ground and then screamed again as he swooped down on me. He grabbed me by the arm and hauled me painfully out of the room and towards the stairs. Crying now, I beat on the side of his leg with my fist.
"Let me go, let me go!" I wailed.
"Lorena!" I heard Harry cry from the kitchen.
"Harry!" I tugged against Uncle Vernon's hold and tried to break back down the stairs. It didn't work. I lost my balance and my knees crumpled. He didn't care, he just dragged me painfully up the stairs. I was sobbing and wailing and trying to get away as I was dragged across the floor.
"No, no stop! It hurts!" I screamed as Uncle Vernon approached the linen cupboard. He wrenched the door open and flung me inside. My head cracked against the wall and then on the bottom of the shelf when I tried to turn around and crawl out. The door slammed shut, nearly crushing my hastily-retracted hand. Darkness swallowed me.
"Let her out! She didn't do anything! Let her out!" I could hear Harry yelling outside the cupboard.
"Harry! Harry, get me out!" I screamed.
"Shut UP!"
There was a loud thud as Harry smacked against the wall. The pictures rattled and I heard Harry give a small yell. The sound of the lock clicking was like a gunshot and I realized I couldn't get out. I couldn't get out, the darkness was surrounding me, pressing in. It was seeping into my lungs and drowning me, I couldn't breathe…
Light suddenly blazed as the door opened and Professor Snape loomed over me. His face was white with rage and his lips were almost invisible so tight and pinched were they. He looked for all the world like some kind of righteous demon about to swoop down on me, but I was comforted by his presence.
"I think that's enough," he said softly.
I came back to myself with a gasp. I was on my back on the floor of his office. I stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily for a moment. Snape moved closer and knelt beside me in a rustle of dark robes.
"Slowly," he said as I sat up. He braced a hand against my back to help me straighten. My muscles felt like gelatin and my head pounded with both the stress of mentally fighting Snape and remembered pain.
"Three minutes," Snape praised quietly. "That's a new record. But I was also able to immediately find that which you wished to hide – you must learn to hide it farther down."
"Sorry sir," I said, panting slightly. "I'll do better."
"I expect nothing less," Snape said, offering me a hand. He left me to brush myself off and straighten myself out, my face red. I knew Snape liked seeing scenes like that about as much as I liked reliving them. He grew quiet and angry every time some new horror from when I was younger was revealed to him. His grip on his wand would tighten and his nostrils would flare. I could see the desire for revenge on his face whenever it happened, and much as I appreciated his protectiveness, I was also ashamed for him to see my weakest moments.
I took a deep breath and a couple steps back so that Snape and I were at a decent distance. "Again," I ordered, but Snape shook his head.
"Take a seat, Potter," he said heavily, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. I looked at him uncertainly but took the offered seat. Snape rounded his desk and went to a low cupboard. He flicked his wand over his shoulder at the door and murmured something. I couldn't make out the words but I suspected he was raising extra wards. Whatever was about to happen, he didn't want anyone taking him unawares.
Some people might have been unnerved by this, especially when Snape reached into the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey and a glass. I raised an eyebrow. I had no problem with someone taking the occasional drink and I figured Snape would have more reason to drink now than most. It was surprising to see my normally-stoic mentor look so… weary. Battered, that was the word.
"Has… Has he been hurting you?" I asked quietly.
This was a topic we'd never addressed. It was easy to guess that now that Voldemort had returned Snape would have gone back to his role as double-agent. I had no doubt that as cruel as Voldemort was to those who opposed him he was equally nasty to those who followed him and bore his mark. Snape was facing Voldemort who knew how often these days and it was clearly taking its toll.
Snape flinched slightly at the question, his mouth curling in distaste. He raised the bottle and poured a healthy amount into the glass. I watched in surprise as Snape raised the glass, saluted me, and downed all of it in a quick gulp. I jumped at the sound of the glass being set down.
"No more than before," was the growled answer. I scowled, feeling my throat tighten up. I hated the idea of my professor being hurt in any way. He was like a father to me – an idea I knew would horrify my actual father even more than it horrified Sirius.
"Sir," I said sympathetically, "if there's anything I can do to help-"
"You're doing it, Potter," Snape replied shortly, pinning me in place with his dark eyes. "You're preparing. You're fighting to become as strong as you possibly can so that when you face him, you can end him. Until then, I will bear my own crosses, thank you."
"Still," I said sadly. "I wish there was something I could do to help you. I've been so petty, focusing on my crusade against Umbridge I haven't even asked how you're doing."
Snape raised an eyebrow at me challengingly. "Would I have answered you if you had?"
I smiled faintly at that. "No, but… sometimes it helps to know someone cares," I said quietly, remembering grey eyes staring at me behind a dark tapestry. "That one person would give a damn if something happened."
"Whatever happens to me is not on anyone's head but my own," Snape told me firmly. "I made my choice when I was young and foolish, and now I am paying the price."
"You shouldn't have to pay anything!" I spat viciously, suddenly angry at his situation. Furious, actually. "You've done so much for the cause and all they do is give you hell for it, like you're still working for Voldemort! They hate you!"
"If I wished to be loved I would adjust my personality accordingly," Snape countered swiftly. "My work is not why I called an end to our lessons, Potter. Nor is it the reason I needed a drink."
I frowned. "What is it, sir?"
"Potter, when I witness scenes like what I just witnessed," Snape's eyes went dark. "I feel not only how you felt at the moment it was occurring, but how you feel watching me view it. I feel your shame."
I flushed. "Oh. Well, I just… I don't like you seeing me like that, sir," I explained, flustered. "I mean, those memories… I was weak back then, I didn't do anything…"
"You were a child," Snape snapped at me. "It did not fall to you to do something about it. It fell to that useless lump you call an aunt to control her husband and son, which she failed to do. It makes me wish very dearly that there was no law preventing me from putting the fear of god into the lot of them," he said bitterly.
"It happens to other kids, and worse," I said blandly, trying to force down the feelings that came with that statement. "I'm nothing special."
"No, you're right, your situation is not unique," Snape agreed. "But you have yet to learn the most important lesson that comes from living through ordeals – those moments don't make you weak, Potter, they make you stronger."
I scoffed at that. "It's a nice idea, sir, but I don't think so. I've never felt weaker than I did when… well, you know…"
Snape hesitated for a moment, like he was debating something. Remembered darkness showed on his face, so deep and haunting it took me aback for a moment. Then Snape moved. He pulled up his shirt sleeve. Not the left, and I'd expected, but the right. My eyes widened at the sight of silvery, circular scars dotting his flesh. I didn't have any, but I knew what they were.
"Yes, Potter, I do know," Snape said softly.
"Sir," I breathed, staring in horrified fascination at the scars. In a way, these turned my stomach more than the Dark Mark would. Snape may have been misguided and he may regret it, but he'd at least chosen that mark. These he hadn't had a say in.
"My father was not a good man, Potter," Snape began. He was speaking quickly, staring at a spot over my head. His face was blank. He was trying to just say everything he wanted said so that he could get out of the situation. It showed just how little he wanted me to know this, but also proved how much he cared that he was willing to tell me anyway.
"He hated magic, just as your aunt and uncle do. He hated my mother for not telling him that she was a witch until after they'd married. He hated me for carrying on her legacy. Actually," he corrected with a cynical twist to his lips, "I suspect he hated me because my existence tied him to her. I grew up in a house where I was hated, just as you did. My mother wasn't a strong women, she wasn't able to leave him or to stop him when he became… angrier than usual.
"For many years I was just as ashamed of my memories as you are now. Until I realized something important.
"It's that weakness I felt in those moments that pushed me, that drove me to be better. I pursued knowledge and skill so rabidly because I had sworn to myself that I would never be that weak again. I am as strong as I am today – able to lie in the face of the most powerful Dark wizard to live – because of those moments. Those moments are what made me the man I am today. They are not something to be ashamed of… They are something to be proud of. It is as the saying goes: what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Silence hung between us for a moment as I stared blankly at the marks on Snape's arm. They probably explained a great deal of his personality from a psychological standpoint, but I couldn't care to examine that line of thought at the moment. All I could do was feel more and more amazed by my Head of House, and be more and more honored that he'd taken me under his wing and helped me become better.
"I think I understand, sir," I said softly, feeling a new sort of calm wash over me. I needn't worry about the past or the future. Anything that happened would make me stronger, so long as I survived was... a surprisingly bolstering thought.
"Good," Snape said. He poured himself another, slightly smaller glass of Firewhiskey and tossed it back with the same ease. I wondered just how many nights Snape had spent drinking alone in his office or his quarters. That couldn't be good from him, physically or mentally.
I wasn't much for praying, but at that moment I sent up a prayer for my potions master. I hoped that one day he found someone who cared about him. It could be a woman, a good friend, but he really needed someone in his life who would just sit with him every now and then, who would keep him from tossing back drinks to dull the pain.
"Let's never have this conversation again," Snape said, setting the glass down and rising. I stood as well, taking my cue that the lesson was over. Snape escorted me to the door and shut it behind me when I left.
I started towards the Common Room. I wasn't sure what to think of this lesson – it was certainly something I would never forget. Tender moments with my mentor were few and far between and they were to be treasured as the miracles they were.
I shook my head as I walked, dragging a distracted hand through my hair. I was confused and more wrapped up inside than I had been in a while. I suddenly had a new project that I wanted to throw myself into – healing. Mediwizardry had been a hobby for me for years but I'd never actually done much beyond reading theory. I could brew the potions and administer them, but there were things spells could do that potions couldn't.
I was cursing myself for neglecting this. What was I doing, fooling around with a business I wouldn't be able to get off the ground for years, at least until after the war was over? No, brewing wasn't my priority right now. Getting myself and Harry out on the other side of this war. Starting a business wouldn't do that for me, Mediwizardry would.
My Occlumency studies were progressing. After a few months of practice I could hold Snape back for all of three minutes. It didn't sound like much, but Snape was an expert. I couldn't stand against Voldemort, but it was something. I'd get stronger, without a doubt, and maybe by the end of next year I'd be capable of going toe to toe with Voldemort and coming out on top like Snape did so often.
Then there were my Animagus lessons. While not strictly necessary, I did enjoy them and they had use. A bird could fit places a person could not and on top of that my form granted me healing abilities. If I could transform then my tears would be better than any potions I could brew for fixing damage. I had managed to get my fingers and hands to cover themselves in feathers, but that was all thus far.
I considered abandoning my crusade against Umbridge and instead focusing my efforts on Madam Pomfrey. I didn't doubt I could convince the matron to give me lessons and perhaps let me shadow her in the infirmary sometimes. There were other ways to practice though, other things I could do. Rats and mice were abundant in the castle and they could be practice subjects for healing spells. I'd have to hurt them first, which I wasn't necessarily okay with, but even if I didn't they'd likely end up the supper of one of the hundreds of cats that roamed the castle.
And there was something else I'd been neglecting – Dark magic. I wasn't a fool, I knew that our enemies wouldn't forsake it just because we thought it was too nasty to touch. I needed to understand how it worked to fight against it. I already had a basic knowledge of it from classes and from being a Slytherin, but I had never done any true research into it. Some part of me had always shied away from it, like researching it would be the beginning of the end for me.
I was jerked from my thoughts literally. I suddenly froze. My body couldn't move no matter how much I strained my muscles. I recognized a Full-Body Bind when I saw one. I waited, heart pounding, sweat beading on my forehead, to see who had cast it.
"Hello Potter."
A simpering Parkinson stepped from behind a suit of armor. Two seventh year boys flanked her with their wands out like her personal body guards. Parkinson's pug face was almost unbearably smug. I cursed myself for letting my guard down after her threat earlier. She had me now, and a trickle of real fear ran down my spine.
I recognized the two boys behind her. They were half bloods, but if they were pure they would have been first in line to join Voldemort. Big, brutish bullies with wicked, violent senses of entertainment. There had been an incident involving them in third year, when a Hufflepuff girl had turned up cursed so badly she didn't speak for a month. They'd never been connected to the incident, but everyone in my house at least knew it was them.
Parkinson wasn't wasting time, she was pulling out the big guns.
"Not so proud now, are you?" Parkinson sneered at me, her eyes glowing with mad triumph as she approached me, her arms crossed over her chest. She sashayed around me, looking my frozen form up and down. She stopped in front of me, looking stunned at the success of her plan. "You've always been so smug, Potter but what about now? Huh? What can you do to me now? Nothing," she hissed.
She raised her hands and braced them against my chest. She shoved hard. I was unable to move, to catch myself. I crashed backwards to the ground and my eyes watered with pain as the back of my head collided with stone. I blinked away the wateriness – Parkinson, no matter what she did, would not make me cry, I swore it.
"Are you starting to realize how much trouble you're in?" Parkinson cooed, looking down at me. She nodded to one of the older boys and he raised his wand, murmuring spells that would quiet the area and keep people from noticing it.
She was going to hurt me, that much I knew. She was going to try and make me scream and cry because that would make her feel powerful, better than me. I couldn't let that happen though, I couldn't let her win. Snape's words rang in my head – what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Parkinson wouldn't kill me, of that I had no doubt. So no matter what happened, no matter what she did to me, I would come out on top, because I would be stronger for it.
A spark of defiance entered my eyes and Parkinson snarled. She raised a foot and brought it down on my face. My nose broke, the bridge of my glasses snapped, and again my eyes watered but I refused to let the tears fall. Hot blood ran from my nostrils and began to trickle into my mouth, coppery and tangy. I had had my nose broken before – I could handle this.
"Stop looking at me like that!" Parkinson shrieked at me. She pulled back her foot and slammed it three times into my side as hard as she could. Parkinson was apparently stronger than she looked because I heard something snap. The dull roar of pain began to fill my torso. Broken rib. I'd had that before. I could handle that.
I stared back at Parkinson confidently. She reached down and dug through my pockets, pulling out my wand and hurling it spitefully down the hallway. She barked over her shoulder, "Free her head."
I felt the body bind lift around my head. I let it loll slightly. Goading Parkinson was a foolish move, but at the same time I didn't know how else to handle an attack. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. The more she did to me the stronger I would get.
"Do your worst," I grit out, glaring up at her, "you pathetic bitch."
Parkinson shrieked in annoyance. She was expecting me to curl up and cower under her threats, but that wasn't me. I'd never rolled over and taken anything, and I wouldn't start for her. She was nothing, just a petty, jealous twit of a girl. Me? I was powerful, I was strong. She could hurt me, but she couldn't break me.
I hadn't been quite sure why she'd enlisted the muscle. Once someone was under a Body Bind they weren't going anywhere. Maybe she needed someone backing her to give her the confidence to try. Maybe she needed someone more advanced for the wards. Maybe she wanted someone to stand there and look intimidating while she circled me.
"Fine Potter, fine," Parkinson said, her expression shuttering but for a spiteful glow in her eyes. "You asked for my worst? Here it is." She nodded sharply to the larger of the two boys behind her. His face split into a slow, evil grin and he advanced to stand over me. He tilted his wand down towards me, letting the tip point to different parts of my body like he was trying to decide what to curse.
"Crucio," whispered the boy, and I suddenly understood why Parkinson needed them – she didn't have the guts to use the spell herself.
That last realization was all I could think of before my mind was wiped blank. I'd never been under the Cuciatus before, so I didn't know what to expect. It started as burning ice or freezing fire in my chest. Then it burst out and rushed through my veins to every last inch of my body. It ate at me from the inside as needles stabbed into my skin all over. The pain was excruciating, enough to wipe all time and perception from my mind.
Every muscle seemed to tense simultaneously, constricting and knotting painfully in my body. I arched against my will as my fingers curled into claws. My crown and my heels were the only things that touched the ground for a moment before I slammed back down and my back hurt even more.
Occlumency saved me at that moment, I was certain of it. Otherwise I would have lost myself and screamed. But I was able to float within my mind. Oh it still hurt like nothing I had ever felt and I was still unwaveringly aware of the pain, but I was at the same time separate from it. It was a tenuous balance, one that could fade at any moment if my concentration lapsed, but it allowed me to hold one thought in my mind.
Don't scream. Don't cry. Don't give her my weakness.
My eyes were closed against the pain, fighting down tears of agony. Every bit of me wanted to open my mouth and scream my suffering until my throat bled, but I wouldn't. Instead I made a choice and bit down on my bottom lip hard. Pain surged as my teeth buried into the skin and tore it open and more blood dripped into my mouth, running down my chin, over my neck, into my hair, staining my collar.
It might have been a few minutes or it might have been seconds but the spell was suddenly gone. I sagged, my muscles going limp. Every now and then one twitched or spasmed involuntarily with aftershocks from the spell. The only thing I could hear was my own ragged breathing. I opened my eyes to see that Parkinson and her thugs were gone, speeding off and leaving me there.
The clock chimes could be heard only very faintly in the dungeons but I could hear them. My laugh came out as a horrible sort of hacking cough that jostled my lip and nose and made everything hurt even more. Blood splattered from my lips.
Curfew.
They'd tortured me with an illegal curse in the hallway, but they wouldn't break curfew.
I wasn't far from the Common Room, but I was closer to the apprentice's lab. I couldn't make it that far on my own though – I wasn't even sure I could get up, but I made myself do it. I forced myself to float inside my mind once more as I slowly forced my legs to curl. Agony seared in every part of my body, particularly in my joints and injuries. I ground my teeth and growled against them as I flipped myself over.
Parts of me that I didn't know could hurt were blazing with pain. My scalp throbbed, the tops of my feet burned, and the insides of my arms were in agony. As I rolled over onto my hands and knees my palms screamed and my knees cracked. I forced myself up into a kneel. From there, I made myself grab onto a crevice in the wall.
My arms shook as I heaved myself upright. My back and joints ached and I was suddenly wondering if this is what it felt like to be old. I gave a bitter 'ha' of laughter at that. The way things were going, I might not manage to get old, so it was nice to know what I was missing.
I dragged myself along the wall, clinging to sconces and cracks and grates, anything I could get enough of a grip on to keep myself upright as I approached the apprentice's lab. I grabbed at the pedestal that held the statue of the snake coiled around the cauldron.
"Sorcerer's… Apprentice…" I panted. The door appeared. It was on the opposite side of the passage, a distance of two steps that suddenly seemed impossible. I wasn't confident in my ability walk unsupported – my legs shook too hard and muscles still spasmed every now and them. But I had to get through the door – I wouldn't let someone find me like this.
I flung off the pedestal and lunged for the door. I crashed against it ungracefully and my left leg folded under me. I slid down the door, scrambling for purchase. I managed to get a hold of the handle. I hung there for a moment, panting and hissing my anger and pain as I kept myself upright with only my arms.
I swayed forwards and pushed the door open. I dropped my grip on the handle and let myself crash to the cobblestones. They were easy to get a grip on as I dragged myself through the door and into the lab proper. I sagged miserably against the stones, panting and wheezing with effort as my muscles throbbed. Another spasm rocked through me and I shuddered and moaned against the cold stone for a moment.
"Dobby," I rasped out. "Tippy."
There were a pair of cracks.
"We heard Lorena call, is everything-"
"Miss Potter!" Dobby shrieked, and the two house elves fell next to me.
"Don't touch me," I begged as they reached for me. "It… hurts… Tippy, I need you to get… get Snape… and my wand, it's… it's down the hall… please…"
"Tippy will get, Tippy will get, don't worry!" Tippy said, nodding violently so that her ears flapped. She vanished with a crack.
"Poor Miss Potter," Dobby said miserably, staring at me and wringing his hands. "Dobby wishes he could help!"
"Pillow," I requested weakly. The back of my head was killing me from where it had hit the floor and laying on it wasn't helping. Dobby, eager to please, snapped a finger and summoned a green velvet pillow stuffed with feathers, silver tassels dangling from the corners. It was the prettiest pillow I'd ever seen and Dobby was very careful as he gently picked my head up and slid it under me.
"Thank you," I said gratefully. I offered Dobby a hand and he took it between both of his little ones, squeezing comfortingly.
"Anything for Miss Potter," Dobby whispered fondly, bowing over me.
"Potter? Potter!" I could hear Snape calling my name as footsteps hurried up the hall. The glow from his wand grew brighter through the door and then he was there, looming over me. "Merlin," I heard Snape breathe, and he threw himself to the floor beside me, slamming the door shut behind himself. The torches blazed higher at a flick of his wand.
I saw him go very pale at the sight of the blood still running sluggishly from my nose and my bitten lip. The halves of my glasses hung sadly from my ears.
"What happened?" he asked softly as he began running his wand over me. He muttered spells under his breath. Some of them I knew, some of them I didn't.
"Someone decided to teach me a lesson… via Cruciatus," I admitted, grunting in pain as my arm spasmed.
Snape muttered a word so foul I was surprised to hear it from him. "Who, Potter, who? Tell me, and I will make sure they're locked away in Azkaban for the rest of their lives," he swore.
I gave a laugh, and again it came out like a hack that sprayed blood from my lips.
"Episkey," he snapped, and my nose jolted back into place with a pop that made my eyes water. "Scourgify." The blood vanished from my face. "Reparo." My glasses settled back on my healed nose, whole once again.
My face felt much better but the rest of me was still a mess. I was starting to understand why the Cruciatus was illegal – it didn't stop once the spell was over. It kept going and going afterwards. I had no doubt that I would be moving like an old woman tomorrow on my way to classes. I also doubted I'd get much sleep because of the pain.
"I'm going to call Poppy," Snape murmured. "I am no mediwizard."
"No!" I rasped, raising a hand to grab his wand wrist. Snape glared down at me.
"Potter, this is no time to be stoic! You've been tortured and you need medical aid!"
I couldn't argue with that, so I let my hand fall back to the ground.
"Fetch Madam Pomfrey," Snape barked to the two house elves who still lingered beside me worriedly. "And the headmaster!"
"No!" I protested again. "Not him!"
"An illegal spell has been used inside the walls of the castle – the headmaster must know. You must tell him who did this so that they can be punished," Snape urged. He waved his wand and muttered something.
"I will punish them," I spat viciously. "And the headmaster can kiss my ass. He only cares about me as far as it affects Harry."
Snape frowned viciously at that but didn't disagree. "Potter, don't risk yourself for the sake of revenge."
"Don't worry," I promised. "I won't. I'm a Slytherin." My grin was more of a grimace, but I thought Snape understood. "Subtlety is our wheelhouse."
The door suddenly slammed open and in stormed Madam Pomfrey and the headmaster. Poppy immediately threw herself down on my other side and got to work while Dumbledore stood over me grimly.
"What happened?" he asked. I opened my mouth to respond, but was cut off as Madam Pomfrey poured a dose of Skele-Gro down my throat. I choked and sputtered both in surprise and at the taste.
"Poppy, she needs to answer me," Dumbledore chided. Madam Pomfrey looked over her shoulder at him furiously.
"No, Albus, she needs healing! I need to more her to the Hospital Wing."
"No," I snapped. "You're not taking me anywhere. I'll rest here tonight and go to classes tomorrow."
"Potter," Pomfrey said sternly. "You've had the Cruciatus used on you, I need to keep an eye-"
"I'll report in if anything changes," I told her shortly. "But I'm not giving them the satisfaction of going even one day without my presence."
"Who did this to you?" Dumbledore asked sharply. "Was it the child of a Death Eater? Did they say anything?"
I scoffed. "You think they're the only people who hate me? You really don't know what's going on in your own school, do you?" I said darkly.
"Potter," Madam Pomfrey chided. "The headmaster is only trying to make sure the guilty party is punished, surely you understand…"
"The guilty party will be punished," I replied, but I was staring up at Dumbledore. Blue eyes glittered coldly behind his glasses as he stared down at me. It was a testament to his own lack of empathy that he continued to tower over me, hadn't made even a single move to ask how I was feeling, what hurt. "But I'll be the one to do it."
"Miss Potter, I can't condone student-on-student violence," Dumbledore attempted to reason with me.
"Funny thing, I don't recall asking your permission."
"Miss Potter!" Dumbledore was through humoring me. He barked at me for an answer and Pomfrey glared up at him.
"I'm sorry headmaster, but you're upsetting my patient. I'll have to ask you to leave."
Dumbledore blinked, surprised. "Poppy, I need to-"
"And I need to take care of Miss Potter," Pomfrey said sharply as Snape ran his wand over me, murmuring under his breath. I didn't know what he was doing but it was helping. The residual tenseness in my muscles was easing off.
Dumbledore took one last look around the room, his stare lingering on me, before turning in a sweep of his star-spangled robes and gliding out of the room.
"What is he doing?" I asked the matron.
"I'm making you better, Potter, since it's the only thing you'll let me do," Snape snapped at me. Pomfrey reached out and put a hand over his, stopping him with a stern look before releasing his hand.
"He's using a spell that was developed specifically to fight off the aftereffects of Cruciatus," she told me gently as she poured another potion down my through. I licked my lips, recognizing that Blood-Replenishing Potion, and nodded.
"Next year," I said, and winced when Snape prodded my side gently to see how my rib was coming along. "Next year, I want an internship with you Madam Pomfrey."
Pomfrey blinked. "I don't think this is the time to discuss-"
"It's the perfect time," I said, and grunted in pain as I levered myself into a sitting position.
"Potter, please!" Pomfrey protested, trying to force me back down.
"This is why I need to know how you do what you do," I continued to explain. "Because of shit like this and worse."
"Language, Potter," Pomfrey chided almost absently as she continued to try and gently force me back into a supine position.
"Pardon me, I'm angry at the moment," I apologized, but I refused to let her force me back. I looked at Snape. "I'll need Pain Relief."
Snape nodded. "You," he said, barking at the two house elves who were still lingering in the corner. Dobby was holding Tippy's hands in one of his and had the other wrapped around her shoulder. Tippy was crying silently, big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. They looked so sad, but so sweet.
"Yes, Professor Snape, sir?" Tippy asked, stepping forward.
"Fetch Pain Relief potion from my personal stores," he ordered, and Tippy nodded. She vanished in a moment and returned with three vials in her hands.
"Tippy didn't know how much you needs," Tippy said, passing over the vials.
"Thank you Tippy," I told her gratefully.
"You is welcome, Lorena. Tippy just wants to help!" Tippy promised me.
"Severus, you can't be serious about letting her sleep here!" Pomfrey protested. "It's a lab, not an infirmary! She needs care!"
"Yes, but she won't accept it," Snape said pointedly, nodding at me knowingly. "So the best we can do is make her as comfortable as possible here. Such as…" He raised his wand and flicked it at one of the stools at the counter. It transformed into a single bed with a mattress and sheets.
Pomfrey still looked incredibly skeptical about this, but I started trying to rise and she gave in, realizing that Snape was right and I wasn't going to give in.
"Careful Potter!" she warned me as I tried to stand up straight. I swayed dangerously and Madam Pomfrey lunged at me with a worried cry. Snape caught me before I could topple. To my surprise, he swept me up in his arms and cradled me against his side as he pulled back the sheets on the bed. He laid me down like he was tucking in a child and pulled the covers back up.
"Tomorrow will be rough," Pomfrey warned me as she moved forwards, sliding Dobby's pillow under my head. She continued to prod me with her wand worriedly, but the pain was fading more quickly now. I was still sore like I'd gone a couple rounds against Hagrid, but I was at least comfortable. "You'll be very sore and there may still be residual muscle cramping. If you'd let me treat you in the Hospital Wing-"
"If I'm in the Hospital Wing I can't escape Umbridge when she starts asking questions," I said bluntly. "That would be worse than… the Cruciatus," I finished lamely. The joke fell a little flat now that I'd actually felt the spell.
"Umbridge," Pomfrey whispered spitefully. She glanced over her shoulder at the crates and at the cauldrons merrily simmering. Her eyes glowed with pride. "So you're the one that's been making the potions for students. Miss Potter, you really are an impressive young lady."
"I know," I replied cheekily with a weak attempt at a smirk. Pomfrey sighed and shook her head.
"If you begin to feel any worse or if you just need a rest, please don't hesitate to come see me," Pomfrey pleaded. "You'll probably be very tired and pushing yourself won't do any good."
"I've got it," I assured her. "Right now… I just want to sleep."
"I'm sure," Madam Pomfrey said, smiling at me. She patted my hand comfortingly. "I'll leave you to rest. Severus?"
"I'd like to speak with Miss Potter for a moment," Snape said dismissively. Pomfrey stared at him suspiciously.
"Severus, if you press my patient…" she threatened.
"I will do no such thing," he said impatiently. "Go to bed, Poppy, you're no longer needed here."
Pomfrey sniffed and thrust her nose in the air as she left the lab. "Thank you Madam Pomfrey!" I called after her. She shut the door behind her and I gave Snape a dark look. "Rude."
"Poppy is far too familiar with my personality to be offended," Snape said confidently as he seated himself on the remaining stool. He looked at Dobby and Tippy. "In the morning, bring her fresh clothes and her books. Until then, you are dismissed."
"Feel better, Lorena."
"Get well Miss Potter."
With that Tippy and Dobby vanished from the room still holding on to each other. Snape turned away from the corner where they'd been and looked at me.
"Now, may I ask why you were so determined not to tell the headmaster anything?"
"Because he doesn't deserve to know," I replied with a shrug. It pulled across my back and I winced. "He didn't actually care and nothing will be done to the perpetrator."
I wasn't being slick. I knew Snape would figure out soon enough that Parkinson was the culprit, and he'd probably be able to guess who'd done the wand work after that. I was at best only buying a day or two before he figured it out. I just didn't want to talk about it right now was the crux of the matter. Not yet.
"And what makes you so sure of that?" Snape challenged me.
"Because my life matters about as much to the headmaster as yours did when Sirius tried to kill you," I said bluntly. Snape's jaw tightened at the memory but he nodded in understanding. "This is a Slytherin matter, so I'll handle it like a Slytherin."
"Try and restrain yourself from doing something equally illegal," Snape warned.
I scowled. No, Parkinson would get just as good as she gave. "No promises, sir."
Snape sighed. "Could you, perhaps, at least plan and prepare before running off half-cocked like your brother?"
"Well of course," I promised. For a moment we sat in silence. There was a pop as Tippy appeared with a set of pajamas in her hands. They were mine, one of the sets Lilly had given me over the years, a pretty mint-colored silk.
"Tippy thought Lorena might be more comfortable in her pajamas," Tippy said quietly, offering me the clothes. I smiled at her.
"Just set them on the end of the bed, Tippy, thank you."
Tippy nodded and moved forward, setting the pajamas where I'd requested. She stepped back and folded her hands in front of her. She looked up at me with her big eyes. "Was it the Umbridge?" Tippy asked worriedly. I had to chuckle at that. Umbridge wouldn't resort to Unforgiveables – not yet, at least.
"No, it wasn't the Umbridge," I assured her. Tippy nodded and vanished again. I looked at my pajamas sadly. "Those would be more comfortable but I don't think I'm capable of being vertical right now."
Snape reached out with his wand and tapped the nightgown. In a flash it was on my body and my clothes were folded at the foot. I sighed in relief – the cool silk felt much better against my sensitive skin than the wool of my uniform.
"Thanks, sir," I said gratefully.
"I tire of finding you at the end of a trail of blood, Potter," Snape said grimly. "This is the second time, if you recall."
I remembered back in first year when Snape found me passed out on the stairs from blood loss after Fluffy struck me. I wasn't surprised that I'd left a trail of blood behind me making my way through the halls, as heavily as my nose and lip had been gushing.
"I like even less that someone managed to torture you within these walls," Snape continued tightly. "This is why I continue in such a dangerous position – to prevent things like this from happening to you."
"You can't keep all the evil out, sir," I said reasonably. "It's always going to get in, or there wouldn't be such a struggle to get it out."
"Still, you have suffered more already than I ever dared fear you would."
I smirked. "I'm strong, sir. As Amity would say, I'm made of hard and bony stuff."
Snape snorted. "I must meet this eccentric boss of yours one day."
I grinned at the idea of Snape and Amity meeting. Talk about an unstoppable force and an immovable object. I had no idea who would come out the better of that meeting but one of them would be left shell-shocked.
"That'd make me laugh," I sighed, my eyelids growing heavy. I let them drift closed and the tiredness began to drag me down. "Mmm, sir?"
"Yes, Potter?"
"I'm really glad I have you."
I might have gotten a response, but I was already asleep.
