SEVERUS was not sure how long he'd sat there, staring absently at the fire in his hearth. It had been around a half-hour since the witch from St. Mungo's had left, and he could not remember when he had last moved from the solitary black peeling leather armchair in front of the hearth that he'd sat in upon Miss Hawthorne leaving the quiet solitude of his home, the silence now almost deafening to his ears.
Though just the effort to move from the sofa to his chair had taken all that he had left within himself. His bones had been mended, though his muscles felt weakened almost the point of atrophy, Severus only had the strength to drag himself off the sofa and to the hard leather armchair where he suspected begrudgingly, he would be spending most of his time while he healed, for better or for worse.
He sagged back gratefully against his chair's backrest, pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes. A tired, scattered sigh managed to escape his cracked lips as his mind drifted unbidden yet again to thoughts of the witch, of Dahlia Hawthorne, and stayed there, despite his best efforts to brush her aside.
This witch who was to be his Healer for the year was already proving to be a particularly thorny problem in his side, a complication that Severus did not need at all.
Having her here in his life was already rendering him feeling as though he were reduced to nothing more than a fascinating specimen for study, and as a result, he did not feel as confident nor as steady as he usually had in times past, when forced to play both sides for both Voldemort and Dumbledore.
Severus was having difficulty believing that the reasons behind his erratic behavior directed towards Dahlia Hawthorne stemmed from the fact that she looked like Lily. Coupled with the fact that he was more or less feeling blindsided by the fact that Minerva or someone else from the Ministry who were aware of this arrangement had neglected to tell him of the witch's uninvited and unwanted presence in his life and now in his home, given the physical resemblance to Lily. Why had no one told him?
And what in God and Merlin's name had he done to warrant such punishment?
He scowled as the flames in the hearth flickered from yellow and orange to a bright vibrant green that was almost blinding, scattering ashes about the hearth's floor as current acting Headmistress of Hogwarts Minerva McGonagall stepped over the metal grate of the fire, daintily brushing a bit of soot off her shoulders and looking quite distracted.
Her face was pale, and her green eyes glassy and distant. Her fingers were curled into fists at her side, and his colleague barely spared Severus so much as a second glance as she raised her wand and cast a nonverbal Muffliato around the perimeter of his living room, not knowing that there was no need for her to do so, that the Healer had likely already done it before she'd fled from him earlier in a rage.
The anger he felt at laying eyes on her considering how they had last parted ways was a seething pit inside of him, bubbling and rising to the surface, despite Severus's best efforts to tamper it back and utterly failing in that regard. The burning rage coursed through his veins hotter than Fiendfyre or even dragon flame could as McGonagall lifted her gaze and locked eyes with him.
Minerva eyed Severus indignantly, furrowing her brows into a frown as she gave her wand a particularly harsh rap and conjured another leather armchair like the one Severus now sat sulking in and sat.
"I am going to presume that you have courteously invited me into your home, Severus, and that you and I can engage in a conversation like polite, mature adults. You and I have something of an important matter that we must discuss."
Without waiting for Severus to form a reply, she waved her wand again and conjured a tin flagon of iced pumpkin juice and a few Cauldron Cakes on a plate to appear on the surface of the small table that was comfortably nestled in between their two chairs. She bent forward slightly to pluck one of the sweets off the plate and took a bite, following her bite of food with a hearty swig of pumpkin juice.
"Have a Cauldron Cake, won't you, Severus?" Minerva encouraged. "You should eat a small something, Severus, to regain your strength. You'll waste away otherwise," she offered in what Severus suspected was intended to be perceived as a polite enough voice, though his ears perked up at the faint warbling note in the Headmistress's voice.
She was afraid of him, likely whatever reaction he would have to whatever ill news was the reason for her visit, he suspected, feeling an abrupt bitterness seep its way into his churning stomach.
"No, thank you, Minerva, I seem to have no appetite," he replied stiffly, no traces of warmth in his voice and he certainly knew without even having to look in the small mirror hung along the opposite wall that he and Minerva were seated in front of that there was no welcome in his eyes for her there, either.
Minerva's frown deepened, her expression doubtful, as though she did not quite yet believe Severus's words, but he was nevertheless grateful when all she managed was a curt nod and did not press the issue.
"You're quite sure, Severus?" Minerva asked in somewhat of a shaking voice. She was nervous, Severus could observe by how skittish she was becoming, how her catlike green eyes flicked to the left and right, as though fearful of an outburst from him. "I know that there is no decent time for the two of us—"
"Stop. You are here, so speak. You've come to speak with me, haven't you? So talk," he growled angrily. "Speak your piece and say whatever is on your mind and then if you would so kindly get out, Minerva, I would be grateful. Leave me be in peace, and do not think of coming here into my home uninvited ever again, Headmistress McGonagall. I presumed, considering what happened last between the two of us, that you were no longer interested in speaking with me, would I be right, Minerva?" Severus said flatly.
He turned his chair slightly to stare into the depths of the roaring fire in the hearth, whose flames had now reverted to their normal hue of red and orange, the fire sending its warmth out into his cramped living room, but the fire did not reach Severus Snape's black soul.
If anything, he felt cold. Cold and alone and doomed to wallow in an eternity of his own self-pity.
"What on earth are you talking about, Severus? You want me to leave?" Minerva repeated numbly, drawing back in her chair as far as the piece of furniture would allow her. "Why—what…?"
He silently held up the letter from Minister Shacklebolt, his hands shaking. Minerva's eyes widened immediately in recognition.
"Oh," she whispered, swallowing hard past a lump in her throat as her eyes took in the sight of the broken seal. "You've read the summons to appear before the Wizengamot, then, I take it, Severus?"
Severus lowered his head, his slender fingers curling around the broken envelopment and crumpling the envelope and the letter within. He wanted nothing more than to set this letter on fire, to watch it burn and become ashes in his fireplace forever, until just the thought of his trial was a bad memory.
"You find this satisfactory, don't you, Minerva, to see my mistakes thrown back in my face like this?" Severus hotly accused, whisper hissing his words hoarsely through gritted teeth. "That I am to be forced to appear in front of the full Wizengamot Jury to be questioned for my part in the war when I had thought that there was a mutual understanding between Dumbledore and myself that no one would ever learn the truth, and now, such private knowledge is to become public records for the entire world to know of my history to be able to be accessed by anyone who wishes to know my truths, Minerva? What sick joke is this? And while we're on the subject of my imminent soon-to-be-public humiliation, what, pray to tell me, were you thinking in collaborating with Minister Shacklebolt and that tow-headed fool Smithwick who dares to call himself a culpable Healer at St. Mungo's in assigning me her?" Severus spoke in a soft voice that Minerva could only describe as a low-sounding growl, a feral noise of anger.
Minerva, who had been about to take a sip of pumpkin juice, lowered her glass and eyed Severus indignantly.
"I see," she answered coldly. "This is the sort of thanks that we, that is to say, Kingsley Shacklebolt and I, can expect for helping to make the arrangements that saved your life?" she remarked with exaggerated hurt dripping from her voice.
Severus rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"Tch. Saving it, or ruining it, Minerva?" he questioned the much-older witch, his sarcastic and biting baritone voice absolutely livid with blame as he regarded the Headmistress with rueful scorn.
Minerva hesitated, pushing her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose as they tended to slip from time to time. It took the Hogwarts Headmistress a moment or two to find her voice again, and when she did, her voice was clipped.
"I would say that you've done a remarkable job of the latter yourself, Severus," Minerva snapped as she lowered her eyes at her former colleague and regarded their school's former Headmaster and Potions Master out of pure spite.
"I did what I had to!" Severus bellowed, moving forward slightly to perch himself on the edge of his chair, his fingernails raking down the leather fabric of the arms of his chair as he proceeded to stare daggers at Minerva. "I protected Potter, the only way that I could, in accordance with Dumbledore's wishes and this-this young witch, to foist her off on me, this is how you would repay my efforts in kind?" he demanded, the tone of incredulity in his voice and in the look of disbelief on his expression evident.
Minerva's expression hardened and the older witch soon replied in a clipped and curt tone to match her response to Severus's sudden aggression towards her.
She heaved a frustrated sigh and pinched at the bridge of her nose with a slender thumb and forefinger, shaking her head to herself as though fighting off the beginnings of a splitting migraine.
"What else could we have done, Severus? You were dying, and the institution's staff is already overwhelmed as it so happens," she remarked with an exasperated sigh as she leaned forward in her chair and twiddled with her wand, twirling her wand lovingly in between her fingers as she all but squirmed in her seat. "Miss Hawthorne, like it or not, is the only choice Shacklebolt and Healer Smithwick had in mind when it came to you receiving the best possible care that we could provide for you, Severus. She is one of the most qualified Healers in the Dai Llewyn Ward that is capable of handling injuries such as yours. You do know that she was responsible for healing Arthur Weasley when Voldemort's snake attacked him in the Department of Mysteries, were you not?" she asked.
All of Severus's senses were immediately on high alert as he forced his expression to remain impassive, though inwardly, he was surprised at this admission. He straightened his grip on the parchment paper in his hand tightening.
"I didn't," he admitted dryly. "But why was this kept a secret from me, Minerva? You or someone else at the Ministry of Magic might have informed me," he growled, glowering at her. "Why was I not told the truth of this arrangement?"
Minerva tiredly closed her eyes and emanated a tense exhale before opening them and looking up at him. She sagged back against her chair as she contemplated her own actions in the matter regarding his care.
Perhaps Severus was correct. It may have been quite possible that she or Mr. Shacklebolt or even Smithwick from St. Mungo's, could have managed to find a way to tell Severus of the young Hawthorne woman's remarkable likeness to Lily Potter prior to him waking up to find the stranger in his home. Although Minerva highly doubted that would have changed anything at all.
There was no way of knowing what Severus's reaction would have been if he would have agreed to the rather unorthodox arrangement that in the eight hours following Severus's admittance into St. Mungo's when the young woman had first Apparated with him to the institute from Hogwarts' boathouse.
She and the others had no wish to add to Severus's suffering. Minerva attempted to defend her reasons to herself while allowing her thudding heart within her chest a moment or two to relax.
Severus too, allowed his anger to cool before continuing.
"Tell me," Severus reiterated through clenched teeth. "What is that witch doing in my life, Minerva? I did not ask for her to come into my home. I do not need a Healer constantly fretting over me. I am more than capable of managing my own recovery on my own," he emphasized in a dangerously soft voice that left no room for Minerva to misinterpret just how seething and angry Severus was now.
Minerva shook her head, refuting Severus's claims that he could manage on his own as the unmistakable coppery stench of the man's blood, which was already beginning to seep through the bandages around his middle and again at his neck, were starting to resonate through the dank air.
She regarded her former colleague dryly over the rim of her glass of pumpkin juice.
"Your wounds and apparent lack of strength would suggest otherwise, Severus, that you are currently incapable of managing on your own" she commented. "And as for why we did not tell you?" She shook her head and was looking at Severus as though Snape were such a disappointment to her, as though Minerva knew something of him that he did not. "Well. Considering your harsh reaction towards Miss Hawthorne's presence in your life thus far, and you've not lasted a full day in her company yet, could you really blame us?" she rebuked. "Besides, dear." She softened and shot him a look that was akin to sympathy. "We did not know if there was a chance that perhaps you might want the company. A year is entirely too long to spend it alone." She sincerely hoped that he would see the logic in her decision.
"That was not for you or Shacklebolt to decide, Minerva!" Severus shouted hoarsely, his voice little more than a raspy sounding croak, his voice rising, albeit with great difficulty on his part in order to match his mounting anger as he curled his shaking fingers into a fist to prevent himself from striking at something. After a long moment, the worst of his fiery anger inside of his chest dissipated, and he looked up to regard Minerva with stricken eyes. "Considering…our previous conversation, I find it highly unlikely that she will tolerate my company going forward, which I'm told is otherwise exquisite," he growled, his voice practically dripping with contempt for the redheaded witch as well, his usual sarcasm.
A shadow of anger flickered across his gaunt features to think of how she had almost hexed him, and how violently he had ordered her from his home. A part of Severus almost felt ashamed for his behavior. He did not want to linger on the fear in her eyes and he did not especially want to tell Minerva McGonagall exactly what had transpired between himself and the witch, how he had lost his temper.
However, the intuitive witch that Hogwarts's new Headmistress was, the older woman was as sharp as a knife, her eyes never missing the subtle shift of one's countenance or expression, and he knew she'd seen the furtive look of almost apologetic guilt flicker across his face before he could stop himself.
Minerva's eyes instantly snapped upward at hearing the note of defeatism in the man's tone.
"What did you do, Severus? What happened?" she demanded, seriously.
"Nothing," Severus snapped instantly, his voice rising, though his body language he was currently exhibiting suggested to Minerva otherwise, that something unpleasant had transpired between Severus and the truly delightful and sweet Miss Hawthorne earlier. The man's arms were folded stiffly across his chest, and he refused to meet her gaze, looking at anywhere, but at her, she noticed.
Minerva's eyes widened behind the lenses of her glasses as she exhaled loudly, closing her eyes, and raising her slightly shaking fingers to the bridge of her nose. She squeezed onto the bone firmly, hoping to forestall the headache she could already feel this long evening turning into with her sudden visit.
Minerva was beginning to suspect that she should have perhaps heeded the young Healer's earlier advice prior to Dahlia bringing Severus back home, that she should have waited another day or two before coming to see him, but she could not take it back.
The damage in her mind was already done, so she did the only thing she could.
She pressed forward, hoping to make the best of this encounter.
"Tell me you did not," Minerva remarked flatly, clenching her fists, and letting out another deep breath. "Tell me, Severus, that you did not lose your temper with this young woman whose only job is to help you, not to hurt you," she groaned in exasperation, her voice cracking as she spoke up. "You would drive her away without ever giving yourself a chance to get to know her? But why? I do not understand this behavior, Severus, so please, help me to understand your actions. Why did you do it?" she demanded, a pleading lilt to her voice.
But Severus sharply turned his head away, remaining silent and he either could not or would not answer any of her questions as they pertained to her.
The man's lack of response confirmed her suspicions. Minerva wearily closed her eyes for a moment before summoning enough strength on her throat to continue addressing the former Potions Professor.
"You are proving what the public fears the most with this behavior, Severus." Minerva's expression hardened as she steadily lifted her gaze to Snape's. "By reacting the way that you've done towards this witch, you are proving how foolish myself and the other members of staff at Hogwarts were to ever think kindly of you," she said angrily.
Snape stiffened, curling his fingers over the arm of his chair and waiting with gritted teeth, wishing she would finish saying whatever cutting remarks she had come here to say and then to leave him alone.
Oh, Minerva knew exactly what sort of poisonous venom would hurt him the most, and her cutting remarks hurt even worse than Nagini digging her fangs into the column of his throat. But her words only served to anger Severus even further, and he stood stiff and resolute in his black leather chair.
"And yet here you are, Minerva," he growled, his baritone and listless voice cold and sharp as a knife.
She sagged, the edges of her mouth pinching down into a frown.
"And yet," she agreed reluctantly, "here I am. I thought perhaps it was best that you hear the news of your upcoming trial from me rather than…others. You should know that the Wizengamot will need your memories." She fumbled a bit over her last word, and it did not take an intellectual genius like Dumbledore present in the room with them for Severus to know she was referring to reporters.
Minerva drew out a shuddering breath as she folded her arms across her chest and looked away from him, staring instead into the depths of the fire as though she could not feel Severus's piercing glare.
"And yet…I suppose…you have changed, somewhat, considering the light of your new circumstances. Or are trying. Perhaps it would not be so terrible to tell you my other bit of news, but then again, I don't—" Minerva trailed off.
"I'm right here in front of you, Minerva, you know," Severus angrily cut off McGonagall as his voice rose to match his swelling temper. "The muttering isn't helping you, either. If you have something to say, say it now."
Minerva awkwardly cleared her throat, barely having had time to get her wits about her after the events of this morning, suffering through the excruciatingly difficult task of aiding the Ministry in personally contacting every single parent who had a student who had been of age to fight that night to defend their school and had not escaped the battle alive.
Her brows furrowed into a heavy scowl as she regarded him.
"I did not come here tonight to argue about your prior history, Severus, and though I believe that you owe this young woman assigned to you a heartfelt apology, I came here to deliver the news requiring the relinquishing of your memories to the Wizengamot when they ask for them in two weeks. And, providing you wish to remain on my staff, as acting Headmistress, I possess the power to reinstate your position as Head of House for Slytherin House and our Potions Master. Horace has recently taken ill, suffering from a complaint of the heart following the battle's aftermath, and has decided to take on early retirement, which leaves a vacant seat at our staff table. And...Madame Pomfrey has also decided that she cannot continue to take the stress of her role any further and has announced that come next fall term, she will be retiring earlier than she had originally anticipated and planned for, Severus. I think the events of the last few nights were utterly traumatic for her, and rightfully so, so I cannot fault her for wanting to leave." Minerva paused to take in a breath of fresh air, and it did not escape Severus's attention that she looked troubled. "However, this puts me in a bit of a bind, Severus," she continued, still looking at Snape, "Hogwarts cannot function adequately without a lead Matron in the Hospital Wing. It was my hope that perhaps if she did not wish to remain in St. Mungo's all her life, that Miss Hawthorne would consider taking on the role and the responsibilities from Poppy if she wishes it."
Severus frowned, unsure why she was telling him this, and he asked as much.
"Why tell me this, Minerva?" he questioned, unable to keep the faint note of curiosity from his voice as he sat back in his chair as much as he was able. He sensed that Minerva was eager to put an end to their conversation and head on to her next manner of business likely back at the school, however, his curiosity had been piqued. Severus stiffened and continued, sure he suspected her motives, but wanted to hear the truth from Professor McGonagall's own lips. He frowned. "You think that I hold a fool's hope in convincing that insufferable woman?" he scoffed. "Don't you?" he accused when she did not respond.
"Well, yes, dear," Minerva chirped with brisk finality, shooting him somewhat of a withering look. "A year is an incredible length of time to get to know another person, Severus, and I merely thought that perhaps, since she's to stay with you, then you—"
But she did not get a chance to finish her thought as Severus threw back his head and forced out a dry bark of laughter that, thanks to his throat and stitches, sounded more like a pathetic wheeze.
"This is impossible, what you ask of me, Minerva. I cannot keep a—a—"
"A woman, Severus," Minerva interjected, effectively cutting the man off from his flustered thoughts and fixing him with a pointed glower. "A woman who wishes to help you, dear. Can you not even say it, dear? Can you not speak the truth when it is so plainly right in front of you?" she challenged.
Panic flared hotter than Fiendfyre inside Severus. Minerva was serious about this. She actually expected him to house this stranger in the confines of his own home alongside him for the better part of a year. Not just keep her, but dare to try to make a connection, to befriend her, though that concept was laughable. These days, he had no friends which to call his own, and it was better that way.
Better that they all stayed away from him before he poisoned them all with his evil. His eyes widened at the thought of the same thing happening to the young witch from earlier as it had to Lily, though the Dark Lord was dead, thanks to Potter, his fears were not alleviated with the Dark Lord now vanquished.
If anything, they only intensified.
"She's not staying with me, Minerva, St. Mungo's has made arrangements for her to stay elsewhere." He tried to keep the edge of anger out of his tone. "What I want of this life, what it owes me, isn't obtainable for a man like me, I chose my path long ago when I swore my loyalty and fealty to Dumbledore."
But Minerva held up a hand and prevented him from furthering his protest her sudden idea, an idea that was truly inspired and one that, if she followed her hunch and chose to trust Sibyl's gut instinct on this, was a decision that would be for the better, in time, though only time would prove the aging Seer right.
"Having her stay in an unsecured location such as the inns above The Leaky Cauldron would be a grave mistake and a terrible risk. It's not as well protected as the enchantments Miss Hawthorne put up around your home, and certainly not as private. You wouldn't want the reporters for the Prophet continuously pestering her on her way home from her house visits to you, would you?" she challenged.
"But—" Severus clamped his mouth shut until his jaw ached and he heard the audible clack of his molars. He pinched at the bridge of his slightly hooked nose hard as if trying to squeeze out a simple solution. Deep within the confines of his heart, he knew that Minerva, Merlin damn her, was right.
If she was right and something terrible did befall the young witch because of not allowing her to stay here, then he would ultimately feel responsible for it. Again. Always.
"You should consider yourself grateful, Severus, for this opportunity given to you," Minerva said, running her hand through a crease in her emerald, green robes as she rose to her feet, turning towards the fireplace. "Dahlia has given you a second chance at life, dear, and Merlin Himself has seen fit to offer you a reprieve. You could still have the life for yourself that you always wanted with Lily. You are the only one who is standing in your way of achieving that," she pointed out, her words surprisingly blunt.
Minerva moved to turn away on her heels to step over the metal grate of his fireplace to Floo back to her offices at Hogwarts, though as she turned her head away, Severus thought he caught the glimpse of a spark of faith, something that was ancient and obstinate, in the depths of her green eyes. Faith.
The Headmistress, sensing she was being watched, set her hands on her hips, and turned around to face him once she was standing in the hearth, the Floo Powder from a pouch she carried in the pockets of her robes already trickling from her hand.
"There are things that we have no right to question in our lives, Severus," she began solemnly, her serious expression as grim as a graveyard. "This young woman's presence in your life is one of them."
Every aching fiber of Severus's broken body hotly protested the Hogwarts Headmistress's words, refusing to accept her words as a statement of fact.
His body tensed in a sense of painful denial. He would not, and could not, accept the witch who bore such a striking resemblance to the only woman, he had ever loved, into his house and into his world.
"She cannot stay, Minerva." Fear had turned his barely audible and hoarse voice into a fiery whiplash of anger that visibly startled Minerva. "I cannot give the witch anything. I cannot give her hope or whatever it is you seem to think that I can give her. There is nothing here for her, Minerva, can't you see that? She would stand a better chance down in hell," he growled angrily through clenched teeth.
The poisonous words were ripped from his lips before Severus even realized what he was saying. They came from the poisoned darkness still festering within him, and they rang with an undeniable truth.
Minerva heaved a frustrated sigh, her nostrils flaring for a moment like that of an angry bull's.
Then, she cocked her head to one side and frowned. "You will do what you must for the sake of your own recovery, Severus. And for this witch, I sense that she suffers her own hurts that she hides deep within," she added, as her green eyes sharpened with insight. Minerva remembered the stricken look in the younger witch's eyes when she had accidentally stumbled into Severus's hospital room in St. Mungo's unannounced.
She had seen for herself the hurt burgeoning in her eyes, those windows to her broken soul, though what she suffered from, she suspected that Severus would one day learn the truth, as the two were kindred spirits in that way, both having suffered for entirely too long with seemingly no end in sight.
"You have been torturing yourself relentlessly with no end in sight since the Potters' death. You allow my former student to kill you. Lily is nothing more these days than a shade, Severus. She is killing you because you are letting her. Let her go. Years ago, Voldemort took from you everything that you held most dear." Her words dropped heavily into the thick silence. "Now, perhaps, life has seen fit to give you something back for your efforts. You would be wise to accept Miss Dahlia temporarily into your home."
She turned her back towards Severus, indicating that she was terminating their conversation and that she had nothing more to say on the matter of his recovery or of the beautiful witch Dahlia Hawthorne. Severus gritted his teeth as he felt all the blood drain from his face.
He had no doubt in his mind that Minerva McGonagall was all too aware of what she had just done to him. She had breached the boundaries of their years-long professional association.
In the sixteen years since he had taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one of the youngest professors in history at the ripe age of twenty-one, no one—no one—had dared to speak to him of what had happened as Minerva just had. That was the way that he coped with Lily's death and his role in her murder—by not speaking of something that lived with him through each breath he took, and each day, he wished that he were dead. Severus rose from his chair and staggered to his feet with a pained grunt, hellbent on stopping the Headmistress before she vanished from his hearth.
"Minerva, get back here, damn you!" he yelled angrily, flinching at how raspy and reedy sounding his voice was. He awkwardly ran a hand along the length of his throat and grimaced at feeling the ruined flesh. He had never once yelled at Minerva, never swore at her. But her stubborn refusal to help him had ignited a solar flare of his temper and set him off. "Get the hell back in here right now and—and help me with this—this—" But he couldn't speak as his voice caught in his throat and turned into a violent coughing spell that caused him to stagger backward.
Minerva slowly lifted her chin to better look him in the eye as she let the last of her Floo Powder trickle from her hand. She regarded him with a look that was strangely akin to sympathy, maybe even pity.
A look that Severus knew he didn't want at all, a look that caused him to grit his teeth in pure anger.
"Woman is the word that you want, Severus. A woman who only wants to help you, dear. So, let her…"
Severus shouted something else, though the roar of the flames as they once again flicked from orange and yellow to green as Minerva McGonagall vanished from his living room as though she had never been there, was drowned out, and then the room fell deathly silent once the Headmistress had gone.
As he stood there, panting, and gasping for breath, he realized just the exertion of standing for this extended period, coupled with his stunt from earlier when he had risen from his chair to confront the young Healer, was taking its toll on his body.
A horrible, overwhelming ache began to sear at his chest, and he could tell by the darkening stain on the sleeves of his robes that one of his bandages around his arm had been soaked through. Likely, the stitches had come undone, despite Healer Hawthorne's best efforts to magically seal them shut.
He bit down hard on his tongue as he slowly rolled up his sleeve, grimacing as the waves of pain as the fabric brushed against the tender, healing skin hard enough that he barely repressed a scream.
The strange smell of blood filled his nose and his arm stung as Severus stared, wide-eyed, at the blood. The way that both of his hands had started to shake made him furious, not because he was shaking because he was angry with Minerva, which he was, but because of his own physical weakness.
He realized that the witch from earlier, Merlin damn her, had been right all along.
He could not do this without her help, whether he liked it or not. Seething and gnashing his teeth together, he stalked out of his living room and into the kitchen towards the sink by the kitchen window.
He peered out the window and stiffened as he caught the unmistakable sight of the Healer herself, just recently Apparated outside the front of his home, carrying what seemed to be a brown paper bag, likely containing a meal, in her hands, and her small purse slung over her shoulder.
He suspected that it likely had been enchanted with an Extension Charm and it contained her medical supplies. Her white face was every evident against the dull night.
Severus felt himself swallow as he caught sight of the dress that she was wearing, having changed out of her Healer's robes since she'd gone back to the Leaky if he had to hazard a guess as to the change.
Her wrap dress was a beautiful jade green color, emphasizing the red tones in her hair. With flouncy sleeves, white floral embroidery detailing at the bodice that caused a pang in his heart as he realized that from this distance, the flowers resembled lilies, a tie at the waistline, and a flowy high low-bottom hem, the garment swished with her movements as she stood stock-still for a moment as if gathering her inner strength and resolve, and then headed up towards the front steps and beyond his line of sight.
He knew that he should have moved to greet her, but as he stood just barely able to support his own weight on his legs that could hardly stand upright as he ran his arm underneath the cold water from the sink and gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the pain, he knew that he couldn't. She'd not even entered his home yet, and already, he felt Dahlia Hawthorne's presence in his home, the warm, alluring song of a siren's call, like in the tales of old, the stories that the Muggle children were always so fascinated by.
The taunting of a treasure that he could not have.