Let's Do It Right This Time, Chapter 22: A Certain Serpent
Severus Snape was supposed to be at dinner. That said, he was nearly ever hungry anyway, and he needed some time alone to think.
One of his students, a first year no less, had used an advanced and dangerous magic to save another from his own housemate. That, in itself, would have been remarkable, but when one took into account that this same student had a phoenix familiar, had apparently already taken his lordship (despite the fact that even attempting to claim one's lordship before the age of sixteen was near-impossible), and seemed to have no fear of either Dumbledore or Voldemort. He also had impeccable mental shields. Severus didn't know what to think, except that he was terrified.
It was not as though the boy was arrogant or cruel, though, and that was what scared Severus more. He was invariably polite to all his teachers (although Severus had noticed a conspicuous lack of warmth in his interactions with Professors Dumbledore and Mcgonagall) and his homework was nearly always impeccable. He also seemed to go out of his way to help his classmates, especially the shy Gryffindor Neville, and he had seemed to genuinely, if awkwardly, sympathize with Draco Malfoy after he had nearly killed one of his classmates.
But he had an aura that spanned from painfully light to very dark in as little as the space of a minute, an occasional look in his eyes reminiscent of the prisoners of the Dark Lord during the first war, and a drawling, vindictive streak that sent shivers down Severus's spine. And then there was the fact that he was so blase about death and pain, as if he had grown jaded to it, while he was not only related to the Dark Lord Voldemort but also seemed to be acting like him, consciously or not, charming to the last until the killing curse hit you.
There was also something about Aurelius Gaunt which awoke memories in him that he had long tried to suppress, memories of the worst and best times of his life, of all the mistakes he had ever made. He could also not forgot the day he had glanced on accident at the boy's notes, only to see a sentence which ripped open a long-festering wound deep within him, as if calculated to cause him pain: I bitterly regret Lily's death. Severus was not ashamed to say that he had drank rather heavily that night.
The worst part of it was that the boy was always perfectly polite, even deferential, to his face- he even seemed to trust Severus, and yet he also seemed to deliberately go out of his way to mess with his mind until the spy felt as though he would go mad.
It was as Severus was trying to puzzle out his feelings about his student that, all at once, he felt a sudden surge of magic flowing through the halls like a dry flood. It was rich, powerful and unmistakable good, and as he tried to locate the source he felt it seeping through his pores and trickling into his core, filling with protective, gentle but powerful warmth, like a mother's embrace.
And that was when he registered that it was coming from the ward room. The room that even the staff were not allowed to visit unless the headmaster was incapable of adjusting the wards.
Severus approached, drawn to the magic like a moth to the flame.
And that's when he saw the student that had been so often occupying his thoughts. Aurelius Gaunt was slumped against the wall, long-lashed violet eyes half-shut, evidently in exhaustion, his fingers were white around the grip of his wand, as if his hand was too stiff to move. A shiver ran down Severus's spine. Could Aurelius have been the source of the magical surge that he had just felt? No, that was impossible. But why was he here then, here in a part of the school that the students shouldn't even know exist, much less be able to access?
"Mr. Gaunt," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady.
The boy's lashes fluttered, his grip on his wand tightening further, if possible. He looked ill, his face very pale and soaked with sweat, and Severus felt his usual fear slipping a little, as he remembered that, after all, the boy was still a first year, and one that appeared to be due a trip to the hospital wing.
"Mr. Gaunt," he said again, gripping the boy's shoulder loosely.
Violet eyes flew open, hazy with exhaustion. The boy stared at him incomprehending for a long moment before his clouded eyes cleared. "P'fessor Snape," he slurred, with...was that relief in his voice?
"Gaunt, what happened, are you all right?" Severus made himself say, reminding himself yet again that, powerful or not, right now Gaunt was his student, and he needed to figure out what was wrong.
"Jus...couldn't make it...to...comm'n room," the boy answered, eyes fixed glassily on his face. "Thank...'Erlin it...was...you." He tried to take a wobbling step, but collapsed almost immediately, and Severus, cursing himself for not noticing how unstable the boy was, hurriedly caught him. He was undeniably surprised when Gaunt snuggled up against his chest in a rare show of trust.
"Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing," he said quietly as he half-carried his Slytherin back down the hallway towards the more inhabited parts of the castle. To his surprise, at these words, Gaunt stiffened.
"NO!"
Severus stopped. "You're ill, you need to be treated."
"You," Gaunt slurred in reply, violet eyes wide and trusting. "Not Pomfrey. She...serves..D..." Gaunt's voice trailed off, and his head lolled back against Severus's shoulder limply. "Don't...Albus...mustn't...know..."
"Mustn't know what?" asked Severus urgently, growing worried. It was not that he trusted Dumbledore himself, but it was extremely unnerving that Gaunt was so urgent about keeping something from the headmaster.
"Conniving...bastard...sticks...nose...none...business...chess...Azkaban...framed..." Gaunt managed before losing consciousness.
Severus, making a split second decision, turned off from the path to the hospital wing and walked, instead, to his own chambers, carrying the shockingly light and shivering boy. Murmering "Lily Flower" to the bust of Salazar that protected his rooms, he pushed open the door and carried Aurelius Gaunt within, unknowingly led by a promise he had made eleven years previously.
With solicitous care, he laid the boy on his sofa, loosening his tie, and then cast a diagnostic- he was no mediwitch, but that was only because no one would officially apprentice a former Death Eater. And he waited slowly for the verdict.