Sorry for the delay! I was buried under finals, but now…Dobby is a free elf! (as we HP fans say). Hope you enjoy! Reviews always appreciated!

A gentle touch to his shoulder woke Harry. Sharp pains snaked over every inch of his skin where the cuts refused to heal, and he thought he felt splinters in his very bones from the cruciatus curse.

"It's all right; you're still safe."

Harry didn't try to sit up, but turned his head, his instinctive anxiety abating as he saw Dumbledore's familiar face. He tried to move his fingers but stopped when it sent flood of nauseating pain through his hands up his arm.

"How is the pain?"

Harry grimaced. "Worse."

"That's actually a good sign. You're more fully rooted to your body, and you're ready to begin healing." Dumbledore paused to search Harry's face appraisingly. "Do you think you're up to talk about your injuries?"

Harry only wanted to retreat back into unconsciousness, and the concern in Dumbledore's face made his stomach clench (to a fresh wave of pain). Still, he nodded tightly.

"The poisoned cut on your stomach is the most pressing injury. Your body will only…agree, for lack of a better word, to a certain amount of healing at a time, and we need to stop the spread of the poison as soon as possible."

Harry nodded again to show he understood.

"I am…unfamiliar with the nature of this poison. Professor Snape knows it much better, and was there when you were injured."

Harry shuddered involuntarily as the bat-like figure came into focus. He felt Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry," he said quietly, dread settling heavily in his stomach.

Snape's voice cut in, devoid of his usual sneer, but without any emotion at all. "I tortured you, Potter. That it was on the Dark Lord's orders does not diminish what I put you through."

"Harry?"

Harry locked his eyes on the ceiling and nodded shortly. The thought of Snape treating him, touching him, performing magic on him made him recoil in fear, but he felt a small, growing seed of anger, and Dumbledore's hand still rested reassuringly on his arm.

Harry felt Snape cut away his shirt around his stomach and probe it magically. Harry kept his eyes straight ahead.

Dumbledore and Snape murmured a few words that meant nothing to Harry, names of poisons, he assumed. Even if he had known what they were saying, the waves of pain that came and went as Snape tried different attacks on the poison made his head spin and his hearing fuzzy. He felt sweat trickle down his temples onto the pillow, and chills followed soon after. He longed for the release of sleep, and it seemed an eternity that Snape worked over him, Dumbledore quietly murmuring suggestions and questions, and subtly watching Harry to make sure he remained awake and stable.

Finally, the potions master seemed satisfied.

Harry felt a bandage materialize over the wound on his stomach and cried out involuntarily as a wave of pain radiated from it, as if the injury resented healing. Dumbledore's hand applied a slight pressure on his forearm, a gentle reminder that he was there and a subtle question to Harry. Harry glanced toward Dumbledore and gave him the smallest of nods to reassure him, even as tears began to prick the edges of his eyes.

Dumbledore frowned in concern. "Severus, if you've done what you can, I think he should rest again."

Harry saw Snape nod curtly in his peripheral vision.

"Did you enjoy it?" The question slipped out, but Harry felt no regret when it was in the air.

Harry's eyes fixed on the ceiling, so he couldn't see Snape's face, but felt him jerk back—perhaps in surprise, perhaps disgust. But when he spoke, Snape's voice was perfectly even. "No, Potter. I did not enjoy torturing you."

"You took a memory." Harry knew he was straying into dangerous territory, but he felt a strange recklessness. It didn't come from trusting Snape, or even from Dumbledore's presence, but from the knowledge that he'd been dragged to the brink of death and had chosen not to fall. As long as he had a choice, he would take it, and he was tired of waiting for safety or information to come to him, not when he had earned his right to those things through suffering and sacrifice for those he loved.

"Yes, Potter. I…lost control, and for that, I have no excuse." Snape spoke slowly, wary of where the conversation drifted.

"Harry, you're not well enough for this," Dumbledore broke in gently. "I owe you…several explanations, when you're more healed. But for now, I'm going to ask you to focus on getting better."

Harry kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling and nodded tightly.

The potions master spoke to Dumbledore in that same determinedly even tone. "The poison will break down as he regains his strength and begins to fight back. The pain should be gone within a few weeks. It was only meant to judge how long he had to live, how much further the Dark Lord could push—"

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore cut in, seeing Harry's face tense. To Harry, he continued, "I'm going to cast a spell that will help you get to sleep, but it's safer than a sleeping potion. All right?"

Harry nodded once more.

As Harry faded into unconsciousness, he heard words drift over him "You know better from here, Albus. He's strong enough to survive this, but it'll take a while to lower his pain levels."

"Thank you, Severus."

Harry wasn't sure, later, if he imagined it in the haze of sleep, but he thought he heard Snape say, "Do you think he'll always hate me?"

Even more distantly, Harry thought he heard Dumbledore respond, "He has an enormous capacity to forgive, but…I don't know."

I've been reading some more Snape-sympathetic fanfiction, and I have to say I love how so many fanfiction writers have adapted his character; a kinder Snape doesn't quite have the chance to evolve in the books, but there's so much potential there. That's not quite what I'm doing here—I'm still not sure how I feel about him—but I decided to add a Snape scene and see how it went. Thanks for reading! I'll update soon.