Chapter Six

Saving Severus Snape

Voldemort apparated to the Defence classroom.

"Does anyone here know anything about alcohol poisoning? First aid, medical magic- Anything at all about all that?! I don't care, just someone, come! Daphne? He trusts you! DAPHNE! Where are you?! Stop SCREAMING! ALL of you! I need to think!"

Voldemort ran, crouched, along the tables, skimming past each of the students who, as in the last class, took cover under their desks in terror.

"There were no Gryffindors here earlier- Oh it's gone past the hour, of course! You must be his next class! Pft, how tedious, I don't know who any of you are-"

He went over to the desk, intending to pick a student from a name in the register. Ideally a name he recognised, and for the right reasons.

"Breadon; Giles; Smythe; Young- I know these names, my followers, yet these are surely absent! Oh this is the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs from the previous class, which ought to mean-"

He turned the page, wanting the next class in chronological order according to that day's timetable.

Of course, he had never actually taught, despite applying to do so, and so didn't know how registers were typically arranged at Hogwarts, from First Years onwards. Instead, he found he had jumped from a list of Fifth years to one Sixth years. Whose class had been two lessons ago that day.

"Of course! She'll do! Accio Ginny Weasley!"

He didn't have long to wait. As he had known.

Voldemort didn't blink at the female forms whizzing towards him. Screaming.

He observed his unanticipated additional 'guest' was deposited at his feet also, along with the girl he sought.

"What on earth? It's you, is it?"

Minerva McGonagall leapt to her feet, straightening her glasses, having somehow not lost them on route, despite lately exceeding speeds of 70 miles per hour. The same, sadly, could not be said for her hat.

Ginny was less quick, extremely shaken, but stumbled to get up, all the same, also having no wish to remain at that man's feet.

"Explain yourself, Sir!" shouted Minerva. "Most extraordinary-"

Voldemort merely grabbed both woman and girl, and apparated away, not bothering to stop and chat in the emergency.

"-conduct! How dare you, Sir!"

"It's my Lord, actually- Never mind all that! Either. Both. Fix him. Now!"

He gesticulated at his servant, Severus: slumped on his back, collapsed on the floor.

"I don't know what to do! Please! I think he's dying! DO something!"

The Transfiguration Mistress's raised eyebrows and pursed lips could rival those of Severus Snape himself. Her nostrils also appeared to flare. Since she was livid.

"Since I was at hand and could not stop the spell manipulating my student, the least I could do was follow it to its source. Only to find that you ask me to help this man, this individual, that you have the GALL to do so, when he murdered my very dear friend- on your orders!"

"Minny: be a dear and shut it! Severus is dying! See! Here he lies! In my- his- our- The bedroom! Do something!"

"What are you doing, Miss Weasley?"

"What happened?" said Ginny, ignoring her schoolmistress, rolling up her sleeves, having removed her cloak.

The "why me?"s could wait for after.

"He's gone and drunk himself into oblivion! Again! It's alcohol poisoning, I think!"

Ginny dropped to the floor in a crouch.

"I'm putting him the in recovery position! Now shut up, please! While I count-"

She placed her index and middle fingers to his wrist.

She had expected to judge if it was weak or strong but-

"I can't find his pulse! Has he had a seizure? He might have stopped breathing!"

"I don't know! I don't know anything about this sort of thing- helping other people crap! I only know how to heal myself, and I would never be so stupid as to deliberately-"

"Did he hit his head? Did he spasm? What exactly happened? Tell me!"

"I- he- must have finished most of a full bottle of whisky, then he fell, I- I came straight away! To get help!"

"Did he hit his head?"

"I've no idea!"

"You should have stayed with him!" Ginny shouted, accusingly. "You shouldn't have left him!"

"But I had to come, had to find help, find you? Didn't I?!" Voldemort protested.

Ginny felt again for Severus Snape's pulse.

"There's something there now. It's very weak! Intermittent! Again, I can hardly- I've lost it again! I can't feel his pulse!"

He may have stopped breathing again! His heart might have stopped!

She leaned in close. Placing her cheek against his mouth.

Nothing.

No breath!

"Really if he is to receive any treatment, when I personally do not believe him to be deserving of my assistance or sympathies- I suppose we ought to summon Poppy. She is at least medically qualified-"

"There's no time to wait!" cried Ginny, interrupting the Professor, removing her cheek from the patient's mouth. "He's definitely not breathing!" She had expected to detect at least a weak breath "I can't find his pulse! I had it, and it's gone! Stay or go and get more help but I need to act now! If he's stopped breathing: two minutes to brain damage, three minutes to brain death!"

"You shouldn't start that unless you're absolutely sure you know what you're doing," stammered Voldemort, as Ginny laced her fingers. "Severus always said- One can make things worse! Or crack a rib!"

"Multiple ribs. If it happens, so be it! We'll have saved him in the process! Do you know CPR?"

"No of course not!" snapped Voldemort. "Why would I have taught myself how to heal someone other than myself?! Silly girl!"

"Well then give me some space if you can't help take turns!" she cried. "Get back! It's very tiring! Find someone to take turns with me if you don't know what to do yourself. Until proper help arrives! Go!"

"Are you sure you know what you're doing! I cannot risk your worsening his condition!"

"If I do mouth to mouth and CPR he might make it! If I don't he'll die! I started first aid in Primary School. Now shut up and leave me alone! Give me some space, move back! I won't tell you again!"

Voldemort acquiesced, acknowledging at last Ginny's professional confidence, conscious of her stated deadline.

He had heard that the Weasley children had been sent to a muggle school, when each was aged 4 to 11. It was simpler than the mother attempting to teach so many children of different ages without help, the usual done thing, while her husband worked, apparently.

One policy of his with more universal appeal, that. Educational reform. Free wizarding schooling for ever wizarding child aged four year old and over. By 'every wizarding child', he meant only those of sufficiently pure blood statuses. Naturally.

Not out of altruism or anything like it, of course. His loosening the purse strings of public office.

It was rather too late to commence indoctrinating 11-year-olds to hate the muggles, from First Year at Hogwarts.

Much less those who, in high numbers, spent seven years being schooled with them before coming, so that both parents could work, rather than mother stay at home to act as governess, the tradition in pureblood families.

All this he considered, observing from the point at which Ginny Weasley moved Severus Snape out of the recovery position.

And started to perform CPR.

And mouth to mouth resuscitation.

He wrestled with the fact that knowledge from the detestable muggle schooling system might save his servant's life.

Am I perhaps a hypocrite?

He suppressed this unhelpful thought without further concern.

A pragmatist first and foremost, Lord Voldemort.

"What on earth is she doing? She looks like she's kissing-"

Voldemort held up his hand, silencing the other witch.

"She needs to count," he murmured. "And listen. I don't know what to do myself. But I have observed Severus do likewise. Several times. I always laughed at him. Saviour complex. Suspecting that our people should have recovered well enough aided by magical medicine alone! Yet I had no idea he might one day himself need the like-"

"In that case. We really ought to give her some space. Move off into the other room."

"Agreed."

They went through to the study.

"I'll leave the door open!" Voldemort said. "In case you need us… or- Update us on his progress? Won't you? Yes?!"

"I'm sure she will!" snapped Minerva. "Just don't interfere, or distracted her, as you yourself indicated! Perhaps I ought to go and see whether-"

"What?"

"Never mind! I was just wondering aloud. Who might know CPR. I can't think of anyone, alas. Never having come across all this before."

Minerva McGonagall had been about to say that she would look for students with known muggle parentage, in case they knew such techniques as these.

But she didn't want Voldemort to know who those were.

Neither did she want to leave her student alone with the man.

Or her murderous colleague, should he come round.

Hence she neglected to fetch Poppy Pomfrey. If Snape (no longer Severus to her) came round, or no-

That was no concern of hers.

His life was in Fate's hands.

And that of a schoolgirl. With some average OWLs, at best-

"We should have some tea," said Voldemort, brushing his hand across his head, where his hair should have been. A nervous tick.

"Severus offers to make the tea. Whenever there's a crisis and we can't do anything, when we have to wait it out-"

"I thought you only drank coffee?!" the witch snapped.

"That's just for show. A PR stunt."

Wizards (read: *proper* ones, or those with pretensions to purebloodedness, depending on your politics) have always claimed to drink only coffee. That being pre-Statute of Secrecy, and so permissible. Tea was popularised after wizards had been forced into hiding, and thus stank of the British muggle establishment.

"Do you drink Yorkshire Tea?" asked Voldemort, quietly. He saw he couldn't do anything to help. And so wittered on, distracting himself from his fear of the worst.

"I love the stuff, myself. It's where I'm from, of course. Originally. In a manner of speaking!"

Lord Voldemort realised to his embarrassment that he was waffling on about his past. The location of his father's family's nouveau riche little attempt at a 'manor house'.

"Oh, he's left the milk out!"

"How handy," replied Minerva, curtly.

"No, no. You don't understand! He's always so neat and tidy. He always puts the milk away after his elevenses! And washes up and puts away whichever mug is on the go, immediately! One, two- three dirty mugs, all left out! Something must be wrong! He must be having a bad day!"

Minerva tutted.

"Evidently that is something of an understatement! If he has attempted to drink himself into oblivion, as you put it! And I suppose, you care so much about him, and take such great care to show it?!"

She and Severus (Snape, she mentally repeated) had had one or two chats over the years... He had not gone into great detail. But had alluded to terrible treatment. The need to do certain things, terrible things. To always be beyond reproach, above suspicion. The severity of the punishments, for any show of reluctance, she heard of via Albus. But she knew directly. He had told her: how awful it all was. How he hated it. Hated Him!

All that, she now realised, must have been good acting. And nothing but. Lies, no more. She had been taken in. So that she might never suspect where his true loyalties lay. With this man, this monster. Severus Snape's master, in fact, not merely in fiction.

"I do care, you know. In my own special, unique way. We may have our ups and downs. As you appear to have heard-"

"That's one way to describe the beatings!"

If any of that were ever true, even!

"Albus never was discreet. Since I seriously doubt that Severus would confide such things so openly. I always suspected he must have gone to someone to have his back healed, however. Still, actions have consequences. He knows the rules, as do all my servants. You think me callous? There really is no need to look at me like that: I was beaten at school, and it never did me any harm."

Minerva laughed, incredulously.

"You consider me to be deranged? Warped, in some way, by some sorry, sad childhood experience? Not a bit of it. I consider that I am rational, and determined to pursue my purposes in a focused fashion. I was merely bored as a boy since, being such an intellectual, the lessons were hardly worthy of my attention. Consequently, I played up at school, pointing out all the masters' many and varied faults and inadequacies; their ignorance. I seem to recall I had a particular talent for making the Mathematics Master cry..."

He smiled at the fond memory.

"Some of the others were less pathetic, however. Consequently, I was slapped about a bit with a ruler, for my alleged 'transgressions'. In the days before I knew of how I might protect myself, of my magic-"

Yet again, he risked acknowledging his true past! Beyond the myths and lies he had cultivated, surrounded himself with.

"Which is to say," he covered for himself quickly, "you no doubt yourself recall that I was deprived of knowledge of my magic for a considerable time? By the hated muggle regime, which seeks to wipe us out as a race, from the face of the earth, us wizards?! In that blasted place whither I was consigned every summer... But to return to your low opinion of me. Your belief that some experience or other as a boy made me some sort of lunatic of a sadist... Not so. I am no lunatic. I am a fair and reasonable man. And my regard for justice, and my just cause, clearly is no product of my muggle rearing- that is to say. Those early days in the muggle schoolroom. A few strikes of the hand with an item of stationery: hardly the stuff of Dickensian nightmare, or Tom Brown's schooldays... As for Severus. He and I did always kiss and make up, as it were. Whenever I forgave him, whenever he failed me."

You may have forgiven him. But did he ever forgive you? If, of course, any of this is true-

"Why else do you think I trust Severus unconditionally, Minny? Why else do you think he has never left me? He, alone, returned. Not out of fear. But devotion."

"What of Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"She did not return to me. Was unable to do so. Got herself caught and hauled out of court on her arse and over to Azkaban. And she expected forgiveness when it required tedious effort to assist in her escape! But Severus. He did not allow himself to be captured, and confess. Neither did he lie, denounce me and claim to have been imperiused, in an attempt to save his delicate skin from all suspicion, like Lucius! He found the correct path to tread in between, with confidence. One ought hardly to be surprised at such skill. He's an ambitious man. A successful one. Always has been."

And yet I never told him so. The very opposite, in fact.

Which is what brought on all this-

"He knew exactly how to keep his head down. To be all things to all people. Neither confirming, nor denying, anything. Such are his most excellent skills in the Mind Arts... But I alone knew where his true loyalties lay. We have aspirations and objectives in common. Founded on our politics. Our principles. Our shared world view. Our shared experiences- Always have had. But he's not too ambitious. So he's not a threat. Shrewd man, Severus Snape. Hence I have nothing but absolute confidence in that man."

I perhaps really ought to tell him that.

Yet that would be to go against my usual policy.

Keep servants on their toes.

Do not allow them to become complacent.

Take my favour for granted-

Do not allow yourself to become too attached.

That one rather seems to have gone out the window...

Minerva McGonagall nodded along to all this, suppressing the urge to raise her eyebrows.

He was babbling on like a small schoolboy.

Might learn something useful if she listened, without interrupting.

Had learned a great deal, in fact.

All of which she would share with the Order, of course-

Voldemort made a beeline for the next room.

"Why have you stopped?!" he shouted. "Lie him back down again! On his back! Keep going!"

The rambling had been to distract himself. From his worst fears. But the Dark Lord had, of course, barely glanced at Minerva McGonagall, beyond skimming her thoughts for a moment or two. During his monologue, largely, of course, for his benefit, and not for hers, he had hardly taken an eye off his most trusted servant. And the girl assisting him.

Ginny's fingers were pressed to Snape's wrist. She had put him back into the recovery position. She bent her head towards him, leaning as close to his mouth as possible.

Then she sat back. And made to roll her sleeves back down.

"I think his breathing's regular now."

She had heard, and felt his breath.

"Thank God! I've seen a man drink less than that and then drop like a stone! Never to recover!"

"Perhaps he has a high tolerance?" offered Ginny.

Voldemort hadn't thought of that.

"Anyway. He's sleeping now, I think."

"I can see that! And hear it! But how?! What happened for him to stop breathing, if he's alright now? And why is he back in that position?!"

"He's not out of the woods yet. If he vomits we don't want him choking. He needs to be kept on his side. But I reckon- I'm no doctor, mind, this is just my theory- he fell over after drinking too much, too suddenly. Hit his had. That caused a seizure and all the rest. Not the alcohol. Maybe his heart would have restarted on its own anyway, but I seem to have helped, at least. Now he's sleeping it off: doesn't look like the alcohol was enough to be lethal. He's just in a deep sleep now, see!"

"He's snoring! Bless him! He always looks so peaceful while asleep! Always has done."

Voldemort looked on smiling, with affection.

"We ought not to leave him down there! I'm transferring him to the bed!"

"Good idea," agreed Ginny.

She stood, brushing down her robes. And put her cloak back on.

"Actually, I think we need to get him to the hospital wing. To be safe. You can get up and feel fine after a blow to the head, but still collapse and die later."

"Why didn't I think of that?!"

Voldemort clutched his head in his hands.

"I never have good ideas like that. Severus has always been the one with the good ideas!"

Ginny shrugged.

"It's ok, I guess. I've had training in this sort of thing, got certificates, and you haven't. I guess you'd be capable of learning if you tried. Reckon anyone could."

Hardly gushing praise but-

"We make a good team, you and I! You helped a bit. I moved him to the bed, so that he would be comfortable! We worked together! To nurse him back to health! Didn't we?"

"Yeah, I guess..."

She decided there was nothing to gain (and probably a lot to lose) by pointing out to Lord Voldemort, of all people, that she'd done all the hard work.

He noticed that she did not exhibit fear in his presence, at that present moment. Her chief concern appeared to be explaining how she had cared for her patient. And what to do next.

"Added to that- you are not the most incompetent of students I have ever come across-"

"He called me competent today! Snape, I mean!" Ginny reflected proudly. "How funny that you mention that, that that word's come up again!"

"And Severus calls you competent. Extremely high praise indeed, from him. Have you ever thought about becoming a Death Eater?"

"WHAT?!"

"I'm joking, I'm joking! Of course!" he laughed.

When they talk back like that, in that tone of voice: always say it's a joke!

"Oh. Ok."

Is he really?

He resisted the urge to openly ogle at her body.

But took a surreptitious quick glance when her attentions turned back to Severus.

Nice pair of knockers.

That he already knew...

But he'd never considered much in the way of any other attributes...

The Dark Lord also turned back towards the bed.

He was relieved. Severus, his finest servant, sleeping peacefully. Most likely out of the woods.

Which meant he could turn his attentions again to the Grand Plan.

And where Ginevra Weasley might fit in it.

He would put her at ease at first. Friendly acquaintances. Friends. Mentor and mentee. And then-

Girlfriend? Mistress? Wife, even (just think of the respectability that that would afford: a union with the Light!)

The possibilities were endless!

Do I want an alliance with the Light? Or would I rather crush my enemies? This famous sense of hurt and betrayal of Severus's! Quite the effective weapon, no doubt!

How would it be if she were to become...

Think of it!

Enamoured of the Arts.

Of all things Dark!

The youngest Weasley child, of all people!

My new 'Number Two'!

"What's the matter? What's wrong!"

"Nothing, my dear! Why? I am pleased, can you not see for yourself?"

He was attempting an approximation of a warm smile. His version.

His expression made her extremely uncomfortable.

Something extremely sinister. His baring his teeth.

Ginny remembered Snape's warnings, to avoid all eye contact.

"I am a connoisseur and a collector. I acquire… and admire. I have never before considered the Healing Arts to be a worthy pursuit. The field has always seemed to my mind to attract the weak. The vulnerable. The needy. Those who wish to shield. To protect. The dross and weaklings of society who should be expunged-"

"Steady on!"

"-Yet I think you may have disabused me of such notions. Since evidently they also have practical applications that suit my purposes, beyond tending to whatever little scrapes I have acquired in the course of my own travels, my campaigns."

Ginny wondered why on earth he was rambling and ranting at her.

"Well done, my girl! A rare thing. To truly impress me. I wonder at the strategic value of such skills... of such a one. The military application- of the Healing Arts, you understand!"

Yes. She would indeed make a most useful addition to the ranks... Perhaps, even, the Inner Circle!

But she must not know it, yet. Of my desire to acquire her.

Such that I shall destroy my enemies. When they see.

How devoted she has become to me!

Slowly slowly, catchy monkey…

A/N:

Thanks again for reading and all your support, hope you enjoyed that. Next chapter out tomorrow evening UK time (it won't be earlier than this as it won't show as updated and send any notifications, a minute earlier than 24 hours later).

As usual, feel free to write with requests for the plot for this, feedback, in the comments or by message. Thanks again!

All the best! x