"Professor? Can you hear me?"
Snape opened his eyes. Miss Corlett's face was a few inches from his and she was wiping the blood off his cheek with the sleeve of her robes.
Snape's muscles seized up again, the after-effects of a drawn-out Cruciatus curse. He clenched his jaw shut to keep from crying out in front of her, but a low grunt escaped his lips.
"It's alright," she whispered. "It'll pass soon."
The sound of her voice helped him through it, and when his muscles had slackened he lay still on the ground.
"Is anything broken?" asked Miss Corlett, checking him over.
"I...don't think so."
"Do you think you can walk?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you're going to have to try, because I can't carry you."
She was matter-of-fact rather than pitying, and Snape appreciate this. He propped himself up on one elbow, clutching his chest with the other arm, and Miss Corlett stood behind him and pulled him up the rest of the way, draping his arm over her shoulder and grabbing him round the waist.
They walked slowly, shuffling their feet, stopping every so often when Snape's muscles would seize up. Miss Corlett was steady, encouraging, though he could tell by the way she swung her head around and started at small noises that she was frightened.
After what seemed like a long time, they arrived at the back entrance of the Hog's Head. Miss Corlett reached into the pocket of her robes with her free hand and pulled out a key.
"Shit, I can't do it left-handed," she said after she'd aimed the key at the hole and missed. "Do you think you can stand?"
He doubted it, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He leaned against the outside wall and hoped for the best.
Just when he thought he'd fall over Miss Corlett unlocked the door and put her arm back around him, and they made their way up the stairs, pausing after each step. When they reached her room he collapsed on her bed, exhausted.
The floorboards creaked as Miss Corlett walked away, and when she came back she was holding a bucket of warm soapy water and a cloth. She dipped the cloth into the bucket, wringing it out and bringing it to his face.
"I'm afraid I don't have any dittany," she said as she wiped his blood away in soft strokes and smoothed back his hair. Her touch was like a feather to the back of the neck, pleasant and unbearable all at once. He wasn't used to this. He almost wished she'd strike him.
His muscles seized up again and he didn't see how he'd endure it, he was too worn out.
Miss Corlett hurried away and when she came back she was holding a bottle of pale yellow liquid. She knelt down beside him and lifted his head.
"Drink this," she said, bringing a capful to his lips. He drank it in one swallow. The potion was light, mellow, almost sweet, but he didn't recognize it. He lay back and waited for whatever effects it created. After a few seconds the pain receded and his whole body went as limp as though he'd been drinking, but there were no unpleasant side effects, no dizziness or anything like that. He wondered what she'd given him.
She set the cap down and ran her hands across his body, down his arms and legs, squeezing them in places.
"What are you doing?" murmured Snape.
"Checking for broken bones."
"I already told you I don't have any."
"You might not have realised it, sometimes it doesn't hurt for awhile."
She pulled his boots off and squeezed his feet and even over his socks the sensation was too strong, too much. He yanked his foot away and to his enormous relief she got the message and stopped touching him.
He sank back into the pillow, thinking he might rest awhile before he left, and he'd just closed his eyes when to his horror she removed his traveling cloak, undid the top buttons of his robes, and put a hand to his bare chest.
Snape grabbed hold of her wrist and pushed her hand away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Miss Corlett's face flushed but she had a determined look in her eyes he didn't like. "I was checking for broken ribs. You've been clutching your chest since I found you."
Snape was on edge now; this was getting much too uncomfortable. "How many times do I have to tell you? Nothing's broken."
"Look, I know it hurts, but I can't just leave you, you could have a life-threatening injury."
"What do you care?"
Miss Corlett rolled her eyes. "Spare me the self-pity and let me check."
Snape bit back the retort on the edge of his lips and let go of her wrist. He wouldn't have cared if his injuries were life-threatening, but he had a job to finish.
Miss Corlett put her hands back to his chest.
"Turn the light off," said Snape.
"What? But then I can't see anything."
Snape propped himself up on one elbow, wincing. "Turn. The light. Off."
Miss Corlett gave him a look that was half annoyed, half puzzled. "Fine." She reached for her wand and flicked it to wards the lamp in the corner. The room went pitch black.
Her hands were soft and cool, and he imagined he was someone else, that he couldn't feel her, that he didn't shiver as her fingertips slid across his chest. She pressed his ribs and the pain jolted him back into his body.
"Shit!" he hissed. "Would you mind being more careful?"
"Sorry," she muttered. She pressed down again, more softly this time, and Snape squeezed jaw shut to keep from crying out.
She pressed down in a few more places and rested her hand on his stomach, which was rising and falling more rapidly than he would have liked. What was she doing?
"Are you finished yet?" he snapped.
Miss Corlett snatched her hand away. "Yeah." Her voice was calm, matter-of-fact, as though she'd been examining an insect specimen rather than touching his bare skin. She buttoned him back up. "Can you take a deep breath for me?"
Snape breathed in; the pain was not as bad as it had been before.
"How does it feel?"
"Better."
"Good. Can I turn the light back on?"
"I suppose."
There was a rustle of fabric and the lamp reignited, bathing the room in soft orange light.
"I don't think anything's broken," said Miss Corlett, stowing her wand in her pocket. "Now, I'm not a Healer-"
"No shit."
He didn't know why he'd said it, but he knew he'd gone too far. Miss Corlett slammed her hands down on the mattress and got right in his face. "Look, I know you've just been tortured, but you are being an insufferable ass. Now will you shut up and let me finish?"
Her face was inches from his and he twitched his head in assent so she'd sit back up and he wouldn't feel her breath on his face, wouldn't feel his stomach flutter.
Miss Corlett got off the mattress and sat back on her heels. "Anyway, as I was saying, I'm not a Healer, but it looks like you've got some serious bruising. I'm worried there might be internal damage. I think you'd better stay the night, just in case."
"And what are you going to do if there is life-threatening damage? Take me to St. Mungo's?"
He expected her to get upset, flustered, but instead she looked him straight in the eye. "Yes. If I have to I will."
Snape sank back down his pillows but he didn't protest. He was so tired and the mattress was so soft and as much as he hated to admit it, he didn't want to leave.
The Corlett woman-Graihagh, he thought her name was, it was some Gaelic absurdity anyway-tucked the woolen blanket under his shoulders and there was a creak of foosteps, the rustle of fabric. She'd sat down against a barrel a few feet away, her cloak draped over her shoulders.
"If you have any pain, any swelling, anything like that, let me know straight away," she said.
"I will."
Snape turned over on his side and sank his head into the pillow. Her scent was all over the fabric and he breathed it in a second before turning his face away, abashed. This was impersonal, an alliance borne of desperation and an old friendship. He'd helped her, now she was helping him, and that was all.
He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of her breathing until he fell asleep.
Snape opened his eyes but instead of his nightstand and the stone walls there was a room full of boxes and barrels flickering orange-black in the dim light. His chest ached but it didn't hurt to breathe and his muscles weren't stiff and sore the way they usually got after he'd been tortured.
He propped himself up on one elbow, pushing away an empty bottle and a copy of the Daily Prophet, and sat up. He wanted to slip away before Miss Corlett saw him. She wasn't sitting beside the barrel and he supposed she'd gone somewhere to wash. He stood up and faced the door but he couldn't stop himself seeing her out of the corner of his eye.
She was down on her knees, a hand on her chest, the other clutching a wooden box. She was gasping for air.
Snape walked over to her. "What's going on?"
Miss Corlett didn't answer, and Snape knelt down and put a hand to her arm, ready to do what he didn't know, he didn't have a clue how to do CRP or whatever it was.
She seized his arm and buried her head in his shoulder, trembling.
He didn't have a clue what to do. He couldn't bring himself to push her away, so he just stayed there with her, breathing slowly in the hopes that she might calm down and get the hell off him.
They stayed like that a long time, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her back. Her hair was right up against his face and he could smell it, the same oily earthy scent that had been on her pillow and it wasn't unpleasant really, but it was so strange being up against another person like that, this was too close, why wasn't he pulling away? She'd stopped shaking, she didn't need him.
The Corlett woman raised her head and Snape was afraid she'd smirk at him for staying there so long, but she'd lowered her eyes, embarrassed, he thought. Snape adjusted his robes in what he hoped was a nonchalant way and stood up.
"So," she said, standing up with him, her would-be businesslike tone telling him she wasn't ready to talk about whatever it was that just happened. "Are you feeling any better?"
"Yes," said Snape. "The pain has lessened."
"That's great."
They stood there facing each other, shifting on their feet. Snape was relieved she didn't want to talk about personal things, but just the same, he didn't really know what to say. He glanced towards her workspace.
"What was that potion you gave me last night?" he asked.
Miss Corlett's shoulders slackened. She seemed as relieved as he was that the talk had turned impersonal. "It's something I invented, actually. I took an infusion of meadowsweet and added a few things to make it stronger."
"A muscle relaxant, I take it?"
"Exactly."
"There were no side-effects."
"Really?" she said, rather too quickly.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me I was your test subject?"
"Erm..."
"You could've poisoned me."
"Yeah, well, it turned out okay, though, didn't it?"
"Impeccable logic, Miss Corlett. It's a wonder you're still alive."
Miss Corlett smirked. "You didn't think I was such an idiot when your pain stopped though, did you?"
Snape clicked his tongue in mock disapproval and glanced back at her workspace, playing with the sleeve of his robes. "Do you need any more ingredients?"
"Could you? I'm out of nearly everything."
Snape felt a twinge of something that might've been guilt, he wasn't sure. "Why don't you write out a list of what you need? I should be able to get them to you sometime this week."
"Great, thanks." Miss Corlett flicked her wand and Summoned a quill and a piece of parchment. She wrote for so long Snape was tempted to ask her if she thought he was made of money. He'd been keeping track of everything she owed him, if they ever survived.
When she'd finished he took the list from her and tucked it into his pocket. "I should be going."
"Sure. I'm glad you're feeling better."
Snape turned to leave and paused with his hand on the doorknob. "How are you with antidotes?"
Miss Corlett smiled slightly, but he wasn't sure what it meant. "Not bad. Owain and I make antidotes for the wizarding hospital in Mann, and I've made some for the Or-for some people."
Snape had known perfectly well what she was about to say, and he wondered if she knew she'd let it slip when she'd been injured.
"Would you be willing to assist me? I'm working on a particularly difficult one."
"Of course. I'd be happy to." She sounded as though she meant it.
"Shall I come back then? A few days from now?"
"That'd be perfect."
Snape adjusted his traveling cloak. "I suppose I'll see you then," he said, rather stiffly.
"Yeah. See you."
Snape left the room and closed the door behind him with the inexplicable feeling of having left a warm bed on a cold morning. He thought about her on his way back to the castle, and told himself he was just tired.
Snape had missed breakfast in the Great Hall, so he went straight up to his office and sat down at his desk. He'd increased the amount of money available to students who required assistance purchasing school materials and there was some paperwork from the Ministry to fill out and another stack of requisition forms. There were precious few letters from parents, at least. Being a murderer had its silver linings.
He worked into the afternoon, and was just getting ready to take a break when there was a crack and an elf appeared.
"Professor Carrow is harming one of the students, sir!"
"Which one?"
"Mr. Longbottom, his name is, sir!"
Snape set his quill down and rubbed his forehead. "Very well. Go back to the kitchens." The elf vanished.
He couldn't risk interfering a second time, not after what happened. He'd linger down the corridor and see what kind of shape the boy was in when he came out.
He pointed his wand to his head. "Occulo." He could Disillusion himself so well no one could even see him moving.
He took the corridors at a brisk pace, ducking through hidden passageways and staircases, until he reached the first floor. Alecto was shouting something from down the corridor and he flattened himself against the wall.
The door banged open and Longbottom stumbled out, wiping blood from his nose. He staggered down the corridor and up a hidden staircase, determined to keep walking, by the looks of it. Snape followed a few yards behind.
Longbottom reached the top of the stairs and fell to his knees, wheezing. His nose was still bleeding and he had the beginnings of a black eye.
Snape stepped towards him and Longbottom started at the noise and looked around. Snape went still, and the boy settled himself against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, and rested his forehead against the stone, eyes closed. The smallest sound escaped his throat, a sound Snape knew he'd never make in front of other people.
Snape stayed with him, and after awhile the boy stood up, wiped his eyes and his nose with the sleeve of his robes, and walked away.
Snape smashed a mug against the wall before he went down to dinner, watched it break into a thousand pieces. He needed everything out, so nothing would show on his face and he could keep it the way he wanted it, cold and fixed and still as a marble statue. And a good thing he did, because Alecto and Amycus were sitting in Minerva and Flitwick's places, looking unbearably smug. The ever-dignified Minerva was sitting with her back straight, her head held high, but her face was red and her lips thin. Flitwick was whispering to Professor Sprout, who was on his other side, and Sprout was giving Amycus the side-eye and stifling a laugh with her fist.
"Headmaster," said Alecto as Snape sat down, with an almost taunting expression. Snape wanted to scrape her face off with his fork.
"Alecto," he said smoothly.
He glanced at Longbottom and Weasley, who were whispering together at the Gryffindor table, and felt the vicarious thrill of rebellion.
A/N: Thank you so much justanothersoul for the review, it meant so much to me! And thank you to everyone for reading and following