Chapter 1

Volunteers

At approximately 8:23am on Friday, the 5th of August, the patient in bed number 13 of the Bathilda B. Bagshot Memorial ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies began to regain consciousness.

His eyes were still closed, and his mouth was dry and painful, but suddenly, he could hear things. At first it all felt unintelligible, garbled and static, but concentrating deeply, he began to discern sounds that were familiar. Clicking and and terse voices and wheels and and shuffling feet on a flagstone floor. A moan. A sigh. A spill and a shattering vial. Clumsy! He wanted to yell. But the patient was too weak.

He sucked in a breath of air through his nostrils and discovered his olfactory senses were with hime as well. This patient had always prided himself on his keen ability to detect odors. He smelled antiseptic and dying flowers and the faint aroma of bile. Behind his closed eyelids, still too heavy to open, garish fluorescent light creeped in. A hospital perhaps?

Yes, he must be in a hospital. Some time passed, most sounds repeating over and over on semi-regular cadence. The patient felt bored and thirsty and wondered when that discomfort that provided most of this sensory information might be put to an end. There was nothing to do but wait, and wait some more. So he listened.

Faintly in the distance he heard a tinny voice, like the sort that came from wizarding wireless radios. It grew a bit louder as footsteps approached his door.

"...her press conference with top officials in the Auror office went incredibly well, with them agreeing to set up a think tank for developing innovative ways to root out Darkness at its source. And it's getting rave reviews from all over. Both parties pledged quite a bit of gold anyway. And while Mumford's approval rating is mostly high in the UK, it is unknown how the rest of Europe will react to her bold vision. And now over to Alicia Spinnet with the scoop from the Goblins Trade Union conference..."

CLICK. Someone had abruptly turned off the wireless and the news report ceased. A gust of air whooshed in as the door to the ward opened and a curtain that must be beside his bed was pushed aside. Four sets of footsteps entered the room and their owners began chattering away. The patient much preferred the news report.

"You girls are so sweet to come out here like this and bring some cheer to our ailing community members. Just darlings! Do you know how few young people have your sense of community spirit? FEW!" a middle-aged female voice trilled.

"Well, let me start you off with a familiar face then. Professor Snape! HALLOO PROFESSOR!" A voice bellowed in the patient's ear, stinging his ear drums. What in the name of Agamemnon! "(We just have to do this in case he wakes up)." The voice said in a stage-whisper. Worse still, the yell was shortly followed by a THWACK - she had slapped his right cheek! What sort of hospital was this?! He wanted to cry out and retaliate, but the impulse from his brain was drowned out as soon as it reached his extremities. His vocal chords refused to cry out; his arms stayed motionless at his sides.

"There now, it appears your professor is still comatose. But if you believe the Muggles he may still be able to hear us, so why not try and to entertain him for a while anyhow? Then you can feel free to continue down the hall though the rest of the ward. Have fun girls."

He heard one set of footsteps depart, and three sets of footsteps move threateningly forward, around what must be his bed. A few inches away they paused and the chattering resumed.

"Snape! Merlin what are the odds."

"Hm, he doesn't look so scary lying here likes this, helpless."

"I think he looks rather like a corpse." The other two voices grimaced.

"This is ridiculous. How in the world do we entertain someone in a coma?"

"We can't exactly do our burlesque routine, " an airy voice deadpanned.

"Heee Ha ha ha ha heh!" a young female laughed, unable to stop despite being shushed by another young woman in the group. "Oh my god Luna, one day you're gonna kill meee. Sorry Hermione, it's just…. Oh man. Well fine. What do you want to do?"

There was a short silence. "I suppose, we just try and talk to him."

. . .

Hesitatingly, one set of feet approached the patient's bed. "Hello! Er… Good Morning professor! How are you doing over there?" she said, a little too loudly. This question was met with silence. The patient lay motionless on his bed with no sign of comprehension.

Then the airy voice took a turn. "I hope that wherever your mind is you're finding it pleasant. I can see the wrackspurts gathering round you. I hope you are enjoying their company. Not everyone likes them you see, but I do. I believe it's an acquired taste." Merlin's boots. That must be the Lovegood girl. The hours of his time she'd wasted droning on about mythical potions that were impossible to brew, or ingredients from creatures that did not exist, hours when he could have been doing something productive or god forbid relaxing for a moment. Severus was surprised to feel that old grudge bubbling up so readily. He began to wonder how long he had been here.

"Lovely you two," said the laugh-er. "Well I'd say we've done our civic duty now eh? Maybe we can get drop the charade and just get down to business."

"Let her go on a while longer. It can't hurt," said Hermione.

"One second... don't tell me you believed all that crap you sold our parents?" the laugh-er responded. She really was a bit uncouth. "...'Volunteering at the hospital at a time of crisis is our civic duty', and 'If we don't step up and pick up the slack, Wizarding Britain will have failed her citizens irreparably'... I didn't know you really bought into all that. I thought we just needed a safe place to scheme." Then the patient finally recognized the laugh-er's voice. It was that Weasley girl - she sounded just like her brothers Fred and George, despite her voice being half an octave higher. Scheming. He had never actually caught Ginevra breaking any rules, something Severus now counted as personal failure. He now knew it was more than a mere coincidence that the number of Slytherin accidents had always increased whenever she was in the room. How she had always spoken in a tone that was close to, but not actually polite. How he wished he had just once found an excuse to catch her in the act and haul her into detention. Perhaps he might have made her cry. The corners of his lips reflexively tried to smile.

"Well of course we are here to… strategize. But as everyone knows the best stories contain within them a kernel of truth. And this particular kernel of truth is a little sad. I think that very few people in this entire hospital think very much about the patients in this ward. Just because they can't move or speak does not mean they aren't living, feeling beings."

"You're such a Muggle. But I love you for it."

Now everything clicked into place. Of course the ringleader would be the Granger girl. Oh fate was cruel. He had failed to recognize her voice at first since it had changed slightly… no longer was her speech shrill and overly fast, teeming with facts and footnotes. It was slower, and more deliberate. As if she now understood her power. He suddenly felt a sinking feeling. Was he, yet again, to be a pawn in someone else's plan?

"Well if you insist, I suppose we can spare a little time for pleasantries before we get down to business." said Ginny. "Go ahead confess you love or ask him to check your homework or whatever… and meanwhile I'll do Sevvie's toenails. Vermillion would be fetching, don't you agree?"

He felt a gust of air as she flung back the bottom portion of his bedclothes, followed by an uncomfortable pressure as she sat down, straddling his left leg.

"I'm partial to periwinkle myself." Luna said in her misty voice.

"Beautiful! We'll alternate." said Ginny, reaching into her bag.

Yes, fate was cruel. It took all of Severus's strength, but if he strained, he could just open his eyes a tiny sliver. What he saw horrified him. The girl with the wild red hair was unscrewing a small glass bottle of nail varnish in a horrible shade of orangey-red. She pulled off the top, which had a brush attached to it, and dunked in the liquid, carefully wiping the excess before touching it to his crusty overgrown toenail. "There we go Snape. Aren't you glad we came to visit? Just look at the state of your little piggies. I'd say the nurses were neglecting you". She finished up his big toenail and moved on to the middle one. This was humiliating… and the worst part was, she was right. The nurses had neglected to take care of his feet. He had always kept his nails short and immaculately groomed, but now there were cracked and extended an inch past his toes, with yellow fungus crusted around the nail bed. That must have taken months at least. How long had he been lying here?

Ginevra completed his pinky toe and was screwing the cap back. His second and fourth toenails were still bare. She reached again into her bag and produced another small bottle, this time of a pale blue. She unscrewed it and loaded up the brush. "This one has sparkles".

The other two girls giggled and Severus had surpassed his limit. Comatose or not comatose, he could not allow this to continue. He gathered up his strength and tensed the muscles of his lower abdominals, then his middle abdominals, then his chest. Every movement was excruciating. By the time Ginny finished painting his fourth toe sparkly periwinkle he was sitting up, and Hermione and Luna were staring, open-mouthed, back at him. Ginny looked up. "All done! What are you two staring…" She turned around and fell silent too. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" She screamed and suddenly the three bolted from the room.

If Severus could have laughed, he would have.