Disclaimer: HP not mine. (Not even Severus, more's the pity)
Summary: AU. Happily ignores HBP and the end of Ootp. Molly fixes Severus up after an Order meeting, and he suddenly finds himself with one hell of a knight in shining armour.
Chapter 1: Confrontations and Discovery
Molly leaned back in her chair, arms folded, watching the debacle that the Order meeting was fast becoming. At its centre, as always, was Severus Snape. The spy stood, stony-faced and fists clenched, grimly going through his report on the earlier Death Eater rally. Albus listened attentively, as did Alastor, but in the latter's case, this was purely to pick up ammunition for a fight. Backed up by Sirius and Tonks, the grisled Auror flung a barrage of questions at the beleagured spy, picking at the report, pressing and harrassing the man. Severus steadfastly ignored the insults and interruptions, and once the report was done he sat, staring straight ahead, his permanent scowl fixed permanently in place. And Molly caught the tell-tale shine of blood, almost invisible on the black robes.
She stared. The stain was barely noticeable if you didn't know what you were looking at. Only through experience of years of laundry for six somewhat adventurous sons had she been able to pick up on it. But though it was near invisible, it was huge. His shoulder and most of the right side of his robes were saturated. She looked at him in horror. What the hell was he doing, sitting here arguing with those idiots if he was so badly injured! Letting them harrass him when blood was seeping over half his robes? Bloody hell! No! This was not continuing!
She stood abruptly, drawing all gazes to herself. Alastor shut up mid-attack. They stared at her, and she glared right back. 'Right! Meeting's over. Alastor, go have a tactical meeting in the drawing room or something. All of you, bugger off! Except you!' She swung, pointing at Severus, who merely raised a questioning eyebrow. Half a second for it to sink in, and the rest of the Order was on its feet, babbling questions. But she hadn't lived for years in the madhouse that was the burrow for nothing. 'SHUT UP!' she roared. A stunned silence descended.
She marched into the centre of the room. 'I've had enough!' she stated. 'There is absolutely no point in sitting here listening to you lot arguing like a bunch of children. Since you seem incapable of keeping your tempers for five minutes, you can all just leave! Severus, I want a private word with you, so you're staying.' Severus, the only one still seated, save Albus, simply nodded, a wry smile on his lips as he looked over the chastened Order members. One of her patented 'sabre-toothed tiger' glares, and they dispersed, muttering and grumbling. A moment later, Albus stood, smiling benignly, and left with considerably more grace.
Which left her alone with Severus. Quickly, she charmed the door closed and cast an anti-eavesdropping charm, checking for her sons' extendable ears as she did so. Satisfied, she turned. The spy was watching her warily, still sitting. But that made sense, since he was injured. It would be stupid to aggravate the wound further. Of course, it would have been far more sensible to stay at home to treat it, and not come here at all. But had he done that, Alastor would probably have smashed his door in.
So. 'How bad is it?' He blinked. 'Don't even try it,' she warned. 'I saw the blood. For crying out loud, it only covers about half your robes! So don't you dare tell me you don't know what I mean.' He shifted uneasily, looking for all the world like Fred or George after she'd caught them at one of their pranks: surprised and faintly embarrassed that someone had caught on to them. Strangely, it looked right on the usually grim spy. She laughed, eliciting a curious look from the seated man, but no comment. He had yet to speak at all. Concerned, she moved to him. He flinched slightly, and she checked her approach. 'Show me,' she commanded gently.
He shook his head. 'I think not,' he said quietly. 'I don't wish to get blood all over the floor. Black would probably use it to curse me.' She snorted, recognising Severus' particular brand of gallows humour. Though at times, watching Sirius launch at Severus over nothing, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe the spy had a point. But that aside, she wasn't letting Severus weasle out so easily. 'Now, that's a pathetic excuse, and you know it. As if I'd leave a stain on this floor after I cleaning it two days ago. Show me, so I can help fix it up.' He dipped his head, hidding his face in a curtain of hair. 'You cannot fix this, Molly. Not all. Not enough. Let it be.' It wasn't a command, or even a statement. It was almost a plea, but not for her to leave. For her to find a way to fix this unfixable thing. For her to try. Severus would never ask, not directly. That didn't mean she didn't understand. It didn't mean she wouldn't still try her best to help.
Slowly, gently, she moved in and cautiously opened the top button of his high-necked robe, nudging his chin up in the process. He was stunned, staring at her with a confused, and ever so slightly hopeful, expression that nearly undid her. How many of these carefully disguised pleas had she missed, in her concern for others? How many times had he come in here injured, in pain, and nobody noticed? He was always the last person anyone thought of, unless it was to blame him for something. She smiled sadly. 'May I?' she asked, hands hovering over the buttons. Slowly, warily, he nodded.
Moving briskly, but carefully, she opened the top half of his robe, baring a blood-soaked shirt, with a bandage tied hastily underneath it. The little work that Severus had managed was hurriedly done, but neat, speaking of long practice. If he'd had a few minutes more to prepare before coming here, the bandage would probably have held, and she would never have known of this injury. She smiled bitterly, thinking that she could thank Alastor for that. Carefully, she pulled the shirt over his head and peeled back the bandage. It pulled at some fresh scar tissue. It seemed that their spy was a fast healer, or had used on of his potions. She glanced up at his face, to see if she'd hurt him. He merely looked at her, showing no sign that he was in pain. But he never did.
She examined the wound. Or rather, wounds. A long gash, fairly deep, ran along his rib under his right arm. This seemed to be the source of most of the blood. The stain on the shoulder came from another cut, with strange burns along its edges. Around these, heavy purple bruising mottled his chest, and from the blueing along two of his lower ribs, it looked as though they were broken. Molly drew in a hissing breath. She hadn't known what to expect, but the ... brutality ... of these wounds was something else. She traced her finger in the air above the shoulder wound, wondering at the burns that edged it. He followed her gaze. 'Whip,' he said quietly. She snatched her hand back as if scalded. 'What!' she gasped. 'It's from a whip,' he repeated. 'The burns come from the friction of the lash on the skin. The Dark Lord has a curious fondness for Muggle tortures. I got off easy this tme, though. Wormtail bore the brunt of tonight's temper tantrum.' Molly could only stare, horrified. He met her gaze, something unreadable in his eyes. 'I can take care of this myself, at Hogwarts, if you'd prefer it.'
She shook herself. 'No. No, don't do that. I can handle this.' She took a deep breath. She could handle it. She had to. 'So. This would account for those gaps in your account that Madeye pounced on, yes? This ... temper tantrum?' He smiled darkly, sadness in his eyes. 'In short, yes. I also skipped the execution of a Muggle prisoner. Thankfully, the boy never knew what hit him. A straight Avada Kedavra. He was lucky.' She didn't answer, busying herself with water and cloth. But she had to wonder, if death was 'lucky', what was it that their spy faced on a regular basis that made him see it so. If these wounds were what he considered 'light', then she didn't really want to know. But she wouldn't back down now, not after seeing this. She'd take care of him, if no-one else would.
'Severus?' He looked at her. 'You'll come to me, won't you? Next time? Don't try to fix it yourself, though I can see you're good at that too. At least let me know. I won't be able to rest, otherwise. Please?' He closed his eyes wearily, and didn't answer for a long moment, while she watched him worriedly. Then he sighed. 'If you want me to. But I don't see the point in disturbing you so often.' Often? This happened often? Well, now she definitely wouldn't rest easy. 'Disturb me as often as you need to. I would truly prefer it to endless worrying. Promise me you'll tell me if you've been hurt. Promise?' He opened his eyes and stared, then smiled cautiously. 'Of course, Molly. As you wish.'
She let him go half an hour later, after she'd done as much as she could for him. He walked sedately out of the house, ignoring grumbled remarks as he passed, leaving her with his promise, and a place in her heart next to her children. She smiled. She'd have to tell Arthur that she'd adopted herself another son, in spirit at least. She'd have to get the clock redone, with a new hand. For Severus Snape.
I know, I know, I have to continue Unchained Love. And I really should study for my exams. I shouldn't start another chapter fic. But the idea came, and it had to be written. So poopy! R&R?