Rated T
(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)
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Chapter 23: Reunion
Albus Dumbledore sighed as he replaced Harry Potter's medical file and turned to other more important paperwork. True, he actually hadn't read the child's medical report when Poppy sent it along to him. He had just been busy at the time, of course. The evidence of Harry's abuse was heartbreaking in its entirety, and Albus was fully prepared to drag the Dursleys off somewhere more private for a 'chat' … but he hesitated as he thought back to the child he had met. Although Harry had been shy and wary, there was simply an innocence and goodness in his gaze that Riddle and Snape had not had, no matter what Severus said about Harry possibly becoming the next Dark Lord because of his suffering. No, Harry was too pure and too good to fall. Severus did not see that. The Potions Master saw himself in the hurting child, and he was attempting to help Harry because he still ached inside, wondering why no one had helped him when he needed it. Albus could answer that question, but Severus did not remember it. Somewhere in the back of Snape's mind, those experiences he did not recall were still influencing his decisions. Albus knew it had been risky, taking those memories and experiences from Severus, but it allowed a crippled man to hobble. Severus no longer remembered why he used a crutch, and indeed he didn't even notice he carried one, and that was how it was meant to be. Albus had not wanted a broken servant. He had been given no choice. Severus Snape was far more valuable damaged, even crippled, but not destroyed. He loathed the idea of taking even more from the man now, but he was becoming unstable. His magic had flared before, and taking those traumatic memories had helped a bit. This latest incident only proved that Severus needed to lose more memories in order to stabilize him a bit. The Headmaster would defy anyone who dared think he enjoyed the process, or looked forward to it. He was a surgeon, and Severus an unwilling patient. The alternative would be to allow his Potions Master to continue to obsess and fall into greater instability until his mind and magic imploded.
It broke his heart to take such good things from his Potions Master, but it needed to be done.
Albus had loved seeing Severus become so passionate about the boy. He had enjoyed watching the two of them interact, and loved seeing the adoration on Harry's face and the grudging acceptance in the Potions Master's eyes. He did not want to dim that light. It did break his heart to think that he would be forced to treat this past month as if it never happened.
But he had no choice. Severus had even declared him an enemy, all over a misunderstanding! While it was true he had never wanted to raise a child, there was so much more at stake for Harry than simply personal selfishness. How dare Snape call him selfish after all he had sacrificed for the Wizarding World, after all he had done for Severus personally! Well, the man probably didn't remember most of it, but still. He ought to remember something, at least. He ought to remember that it was Albus Dumbledore who took him in and nursed him back to health after the Ministry broke him. He should recall that it was by the grace of Albus Dumbledore that he had a stable job and a somewhat respectable reputation.
In order to remind the Potions Master of how much he owed, he needed to help Severus forget anything that was an obstacle. Memory defines who we are, and if Severus no longer remembered Harry or the effect the child had on his solitary life, then he would no longer be Dumbledore's enemy. Of course, Poppy would need to forget some things as well, and Lupin might have to forget about getting mail from Snape … or maybe not. Remus was reliable, and better able to keep secrets than most. Albus nodded to himself. He could trust Lupin to keep quiet, once he understood that it was for Harry's protection. Speaking of which …
He sighed as he looked over the troubling correspondence he had gotten yesterday morning from Arabella Figg. Harry had apparently run away from home after using accidental magic on his uncle. However, Dumbledore's visit to number 4, Privet Drive in the afternoon while Severus was laid up in the hospital wing, and his review of Mr. Dursley's memories confirmed that Harry had not attacked his uncle. A stranger had broken into their home and kidnapped Harry, attacking the muggle in the process. It really could be anyone, judging by the expert way the locks had been picked, but Dumbledore had his suspicions. It was too bad that Severus had lost his senses now of all times, landing both himself and Lupin in dire straits. He needed the ex-spy's expertise here, and the Werewolf's sense of smell. They needed to track down Harry before the Death Eaters got hold of him. But while they waited for Lupin to recover, he could set Severus on the trail before it ran cold.
Albus Dumbledore decided to take care of his unfortunate bit of business now, rather than later. He needed Severus to help him find Harry and return him to the blood wards, and it might actually be easier if the Potions Master was back in his 'hating Potter' attitude. At the rate Severus was slipping, it was more likely that Snape would form an alliance with the child's kidnappers, rather than rescue him! Of course, the memory charms would require a good night's sleep to be effective, so it was better to catch him now while the world was hushed in the silence of midnight. He checked the wards before slipping out of his office. Severus was in the Hogwarts Potions lab, and had been there for hours. It was unlikely he was leaving anytime soon.
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Severus Snape stirred his potion in precise, clockwise circles before he set down the stirring rod and checked on other two cauldrons. He was using the Potions lab connected to the classroom, which was used sometimes by his NEWT students who needed to leave their potions cooking for weeks at a time. One particularly ambitious Ravenclaw attempted Felix Felicis in this lab last year, and although it didn't turn out quite right even after five months of attention, it had been quite the educational project. Despite the humbling disappointment, the Ravenclaw had enjoyed the challenge. Severus knew that the brilliant girl would be a marvelous asset to the Potions department of the Unspeakables, where she had been planning to apply after she graduated.
Severus sighed as he chopped dragon-liver in precise strips. He still felt guilty about nearly killing Lupin, and he was brewing an ointment for the magical burns, along with a cauldron of Magical Core Replenisher and a Strengthening Draught. Whatever he and Lupin had been fighting about, surely it didn't warrant death by raw magic. It must have been painful. He winced in shame. Surely it hadn't been payback for the Werewolf almost killing him back in fifth year. He was pretty sure Lupin didn't deserve to die such a torturous, and excessive, death. He wasn't sure even a Werewolf could survive a direct assault of raw dark magic like the one Severus had inflicted on him. If he could aid in Lupin's recovery, it would go a long way to assuaging his guilt. He would just have to gain an iron control over himself when they talked again. No doubt, whatever had angered him would come up. Severus could rage and declare that he shouldn't have brewed medicine for the Werewolf later. Right now, he just felt terrible about losing control the way he had and nearly murdering Lupin. Not to mention the fact that he almost killed himself too. The way he overloaded his own magical core had been catastrophic.
Severus dropped two strips of dragon liver at a time into the murky blue liquid, stirring five times before adding two more, and he gave himself over to the soothing rhythm of Potion making, allowing his focus to narrow and his mind to empty. After the dragon liver had been mixed in, he adjusted the heat and snatched up a bowl of powdered unicorn horn. He sprinkled two pinches over the surface and kept his head back when a cloud of blue fumes bubbled up and spiraled wildly up to the ceiling. He stirred gently in a figure-eight pattern, and added two more pinches of the powdered horn without pausing his stirring. When the fumes stopped billowing and the horn was all incorporated, Snape bent over the potion again and nodded in satisfaction. The potion was now a silvery blue and gave off a faint glow. He adjusted the heat yet again and put a lid on it. The potion needed to simmer undisturbed for ten and a half hours before adding the next ingredients. He moved to the other two potions, noting that the ointment was almost done, and the Strengthening Draught was ready for the crushed spearmint leaves.
Once he bottled the strengthening potion, making twenty-four doses of the common medicine, he stirred the gryphon gelatin into the burn ointment and pulled it off the heat. He stirred vigorously until the solution was a clear, jelly like substance, and he measured it carefully into six metal jars with screw tops. He left them to cool and began to clean up, the self-induced trance of Potions-creation fading and allowing his focus to relax. Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck alerted him that he was not alone.
Severus spun around and glared at the man standing tall in the doorway to his lab. The intruder was dressed in a black cloak, but under it, he was wearing dark muggle jeans and a gray knitted jumper. Severus immediately reached for his wand, but the man flicked his hand with a wordless Expelliarmus and Severus watched his wand fly across the room. The man pocketed his wand and continued to stand there, silently watching, almost daring Snape to make a move. Severus stared at the intruder without expression, although his heart was galloping frantically in his chest. He wasn't even well enough to be making potions right now, let alone fighting off strangers in cloaks.
"How long have you been standing there?" Severus asked, keeping his tone light. He had an extra wand in this room, and he edged toward the tall cabinet of drawers.
"I wouldn't move if I were you," the man rasped. His voice was hoarse and somehow familiar, but Severus couldn't see his face. It was gloomy in the dungeons, the air was hazy with potion-fumes, and the man purposefully kept his head slightly bent so his hood cast his face in complete shadow.
"What do you want?" Severus snapped. "I'm not in a mood to play games."
"Neither am I," the man growled. "I spent five hours wrestling your name out've him, and believe me, I'm not any happier about this than you are."
"What are you talking about?" Severus demanded, folding his arms and wondering if he had enough magical energy to attempt a wandless, wordless accio. Since he had never even attempted such a thing at full strength, he was pretty sure the answer to that was 'no'.
The man shifted, but his wand stayed pointed at Severus. "You're coming with me," he rasped. "But first, you need to get fever draughts, and burn ointment …" he trailed off and suddenly rummaged in one of his jean pockets. He tossed a folded scrap of parchment on the potion lab's long table. "I'm no medi-wizard, but I know some. Was able to run a diagnostic. Take a look at that and grab whatever you need to treat him."
Severus edged closer to the man, wondering if he could lurch to the side and grab his extra wand out of the drawer opposite the lab table.
"Don't even think about it," the man growled as if he could read Severus' mind, sounding like an angry dog.
"Why are you here? Are you kidnapping me?" Severus asked, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. Maybe he could talk this obviously unstable person into lowering his guard. Was he a criminal? He obviously needed medical attention for a friend, and this friend knew him, Severus Snape. He was intrigued now, and since this man wasn't torturing him into obedience, he supposed it could be worse.
"I'm kidnapping you," the man affirmed, a grin evident in his voice. "Any objections, I'll stun you and grab whatever I think you'll need. You're not coming back until he's better."
"He?" Severus repeated mildly. "Who is this he you speak of? Is he injured? Ill? You really ought to take him to St. Mungo's. Even a muggle hospital would be better. I am but a humble Potions Professor and I'm not certain how much help I could be."
"Humble?" the man snorted. "Don't give me that crap, Snape. Just read the damn paper, grab what you need, and let's go. I don't have time to waste."
Severus watched as the man's wand hand trembled slightly, but he knew enough about the unstable rage and loathing in the stranger's voice to know that he was very close to being cursed. He slowly reached out and took the paper, slowly unfolding it and reading off a list of epidermal abrasions and bruising, a nasty burn, high fever, and metal poisoning in the blood. Under the immediate concerns were listed malnourishment, dehydration, high stress, and some kind of illness that seemed serious but was too vague for the spell to detect. He frowned at the list and slowly moved off toward his potions cupboard, aware that his intruder was following him. He found a small bag in the bottom shelf and collected bottles of fever draughts, infection neutralizers, burn ointment, nutrient draughts, and some standard bruise and cut ointment. The magical list of injuries seemed to indicate that the abrasions and bruising were healing fine on their own, but his ointment would alleviate discomfort and help speed the healing process along. He checked the list one last time and shook his head, wondering how much to bring.
"How much does he weigh?" he asked off-handedly.
"What?" the man balked.
Severus turned to face the cloaked man and tapped his foot impatiently. "Your patient; how much does he weigh? I need to know how many doses to bring, otherwise you'll be running out for potion ingredients before I'm finished."
The man seemed to shift his weight back and forth, a sure sign of nerves.
"Just guess," Severus snapped. "A hundred pounds? Two hundred?"
"M-maybe fifty pounds?" he guessed, his voice sounding small and uncertain. "He's … light."
Severus stared at the stranger, unsure of whether to be horrified, intrigued, or confused. "I assumed your patient was an adult," he said drily.
"He's not," the man snapped. "He's just a kid, and I don't know what to do. You're the only one I could find."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Hardly," he snorted. "You're obviously in hiding, or you would have taken the child to a proper doctor. Our own Madam Pomfrey is very discrete, and an excellent medi-witch. If you can plead your case to Dumbledore, he might even let you bring the boy here. He has a soft spot for the pathetic." Sometimes, Severus added silently.
"I know all that," the stranger growled and leveled his wand at Severus' head. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. Are you done grabbing potions? Or are you gonna keep stalling me until somebody else comes along to save your cowardly backside?"
Severus rolled his eyes. "I'm not stalling anything," he snorted. "There is no one coming to my quarters or my lab at this time of night. In fact, I ought to be in bed."
"Well goody for you," the man sneered, reaching out and grabbing him roughly by the shoulder. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have had a problem with dragging you out of bed in your PJ's."
"Charming," Severus drawled. "So after I treat your boy, are you going to kill me? Witnesses and all that?"
The man gave him a rough shove out of the cupboard and dug his wand into the small of Severus' back. "How about, do a good job and I'll drop you off in the Forbidden Forest with an Obliviate," the man hissed in his ear. "Do a bad job, and I'll make you long for the good ol' days in Voldemort's company."
Severus flinched at the forbidden name and his forearm flared with pain. Keep the man talking, and he keeps giving out information. Severus now knew that this man was no friend of his, and knew he had been a Death Eater. This man disliked him and planned to make him suffer, but right now, he was more worried about his fifty pound boy getting discrete medical treatment.
"So you're taking me because no one will really miss me if I go missing, is that it?" Severus asked, suddenly aware that he was in real danger. He had not faced a hate-filled 'light' wizard in a situation like this before, mostly because it was former Death Eaters and sympathizers who tended toward violence and revenge. But he knew that the light had their fair share of sadistic veterans who disliked the fact that so many suspected Death Eaters went free after the war. One wrong move, Severus realized, and he might be in for a very bad time. 'Light' curses did less physical damage than 'dark' ones, (while still inflicting quite a bit of pain) so he knew he could live for a while under this unstable wizard's -Eye Moody had gleefully explained that to him years ago when he was arrested by the Ministry after the War.
"I'm taking you because I don't have anybody else," his kidnapper growled, and shoved him to his knees. "No funny business, Death Eater."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Severus replied drily, clutching his bag of potions tightly to his chest in an attempt to protect them in the event of rough travel. They would be taking a portkey, of course, since you couldn't apparate in Hogwarts. Severus decided he may as well tell this unstable fellow the truth, since he apparently labored under the delusion that Snape was still a loyal follower of You-Know-Who. "You do know, of course, that I am not loyal to the Dark Lord, and haven't been since about a year before his defeat?"
The man didn't answer, but suddenly grabbed Severus' arm and slapped an intricate silver bracelet on his wrist. Before Severus could even begin to think or fight back, the man grabbed his wrist, closing his fingers painfully tight over the fancy links of the jewelry. "Home!" he barked, and a hook yanked Severus' stomach from behind, flipping his world inside out.
Less than a minute after the portkey took the two men away, the lab's door opened. Albus Dumbledore stepped in, his purple robes swirling almost ominously, and his wand concealed in his hand. He called for Severus, hiding his distaste at his unfortunate mission, but there was no answer. He only found a neat workspace, four and twenty bottles of Energizing Draught, six canisters of burn ointment, and a covered, bubbling cauldron of mystery-potion. Severus Snape was nowhere to be found.
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Severus fell on his knees when the portkey slammed him back to earth, but considering he had already been on his knees when the magical transportation grabbed him, he wasn't surprised. Moonlight filtered through dark trees overhead and a soft breeze rustled in the branches. Thick grass underfoot got his trousers soaked with dew and he sniffed experimentally. The air here was fresh and clean, and smelled like a wooded countryside. There was no trace of pollutants in the scent that would indicate a nearby muggle city or town, or even a highway. He was in a pristine, untouched corner of the world. He could only hope he was still in England, but that portkey really could have taken him anywhere in a one thousand mile radius. Night birds called and hooted, and insects whirred peacefully around them. He had a sudden, irrational thought that he rather liked this place.
The man beside him suddenly yanked him upright by the arm and Severus jerked away, partly in pain and partly in annoyance at the kidnapper's belligerence.
"You know," Severus said drily as he straightened his crumpled sleeve, "I would be a great deal more amenable to aiding you if you would be a tad more civil."
"Quit wasting my time, you greasy git," the man growled, shoving him hard in the back. "Walk," he ordered.
Severus stumbled forward, seething inwardly, but outwardly maintaining a façade of calm boredom. He did not really want to antagonize his captor while he had no clear plan of escape. They walked through the dark trees for a couple of minutes before Severus saw a cabin. The windows, though obviously covered with curtains, glowed with faint light, likely from a fireplace by the colour and the way it flickered. The man reached around Severus and pushed open the door, and the Potions Master stepped inside. It was cozy, he had to admit. The place looked as if it had been fixed up years ago, left to gather dust, and then was reclaimed in the last few days. The curtains were dingy with dirt and the floor was gritty underfoot, but the cabin had an air of gentle attention, and great care had been taken with the furnishings and décor. The fireplace was small and made of stone, and there was a cast iron arm over the flame from which to hang pots and things. The dining table and chairs took up most of the space, and there was one armchair in front of the fireplace that looked rather out of place. It reminded him of the kind of chairs Minerva favoured, but there was something twisted and out of place about it.
The door slammed behind Severus and he turned around to face his kidnapper. "Where is the patient?" he demanded calmly.
The man jerked his hooded head to Severus' right and moved toward a small door that the Potions Master had missed in his initial observation of the cabin's interior. The door was slightly ajar, and the moonlight was obviously coming in through a window since he could see faint silvery light through the crack. Before he opened the door to let him in, the man stopped, aiming his wand at Severus' chest.
"I'm warning you right now, Death Eater," he growled dangerously. "One wrong move; I sniff the least thing suspicious; you're deader than a headless snake, you got me?"
"For your information, headless snakes can still move and even bite for up to eight hours after they have been decapitated," Severus informed his kidnapper flippantly. "I'm not about to harm a child for any reason, you fool. Besides, I would very much like to return to my lab before long. My potion needs to be tended in nine and a half hours."
"I'm just warning you," the man hissed, flicking his wand threateningly. "I don't care what you see, what you think; you treat the kid as best you can, as best you would any kid, or you'll suffer. Got me?"
"Your threats are hardly original," Severus drawled. "But yes, I have 'got you'. Now let me see the child for Merlin's sake!"
The man growled under his breath and pushed the door open, still pointing his wand at the Potions Master. "I'm watching you, snake," he muttered, jerking his head to indicate Snape could now enter the bedroom.
"I'm flattered," Severus muttered back, slipping into the room and wondering why it was so dark in here. "Can I get a lumos, since you haven't seen fit to give me back my wand?" he asked impatiently. "I may be a dungeon bat, but I don't have echolocation skills."
To his surprise, the man didn't grace him with a response, besides a silent lumos that filled the room with soft light. Conjured balls of light floated up toward the ceiling, giving Severus more than enough illumination to see by. The child was curled on his side in a small bed, facing the wall. His breathing was labored and shallow, and his hair was dark and damp-looking. The boy was small, probably not even fifty pounds. If he had his wand, Severus had no doubt that he could ascertain the boy's weight with a simple diagnostic charm. But since he had no real hope of his kidnapper giving him back his wand and he really didn't want to waste time teaching the unstable man the nuances of magical medicine right now, he would have to content himself with the crude diagnostic charm record still tucked in his pocket.
He pulled out the crumpled parchment and read it over while he put the bag of potions down and rummaged around, fetching out the important ones first. He needed to get the boy's fever under control, and he needed to treat the infected burn, wherever it was, but most important, he had to diagnose and treat the metal poisoning. For that, unfortunately, he either needed a blood sample and his potions lab, or his wand back so he could run a few tests.
"He has some sort of metal poisoning in his blood," Severus pointed out, not looking up from organizing his potion bottles. "I will need my wand to run the proper tests."
"No, you don't," the insufferable man growled from the doorway. "It's silver poisoning."
"Silver … What?" Severus blinked and glanced down at the sleeping child as his mind whirled into high gear. Silver wasn't usually toxic to humans, unless it was in scarily huge amounts that no real person would logically have in their bloodstream unless it was magicked there. But there were certain people to whom silver was poisonous, and even a small amount could render them bedridden. If that was true of the boy, it could only mean …
Suddenly overwhelmed with panic and feeling as if he had stepped into a twilight zone, Severus grabbed the boy's narrow shoulder and pulled him onto his back. The Professor's chest thundered with barely concealed terror and panic bloomed swiftly in his mind as he raked his gaze over the boy's thin, waxen, oh-so-familiar face. The child's eyes suddenly fluttered open and he moaned softly as he woke, gazing up at Severus with feverish, glassy, green eyes.
"Pr'fessor," the boy slurred, a faint smile appearing on his chapped lips. "Is it … is it you?"
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Harry felt awful. His whole body hurt, and his hand was on fire. He had been drifting in and out of nightmares for what seemed like a long time now, but he could remember some things. He wasn't with the Dursleys anymore; he was pretty sure about that. Somebody had rescued him or maybe kidnapped him, and now he was very ill. He could remember that the somebody who had him now had been trying to get him to talk quite a bit. It had been annoying, and scary, and Harry remembered crying like a baby, begging the Professor to help him. It took another long while before he could remember the Professor's name. He called for Professor Snape, and then the strange man left him alone.
He was thirsty and his hand was hurting worse and worse as time went on, but no matter how he sobbed, nobody came to help him. It was as bad as being in his cupboard all over again. He felt so wretched and exhausted and alone, and he knew there was no way he was at the Professor's house because the Professor never left him to cry in pain without coming to check on him. But now, it was like a dream come true. The light was weird in here, but he could see the Professor now, bending over him with that look he sometimes got which was partly worried and partly startled. It was so unlike his other dreams that he smiled a bit, wondering if this time, his Professor had really come.
"Pr'fessor," Harry whispered, forcing the words past his cardboard tongue and cracked lips. "Is it … is it you?" He hoped it wasn't another dream. All the others melted away when he reached out for them, so he kept his hands where they were. He didn't remember waking up, but he guessed that he must have. The man didn't answer for several seconds, just staring at him with an even weirder expression on his narrow face. Was he angry?
"Harry," the Professor suddenly whispered, his voice hoarse and strangled-sounding. "Are you …? What happened to you?"
"I was good, I promise," Harry whispered back, tears burning his eyes as he remembered. "But Pr'fessor Dumbledore took me 'way, an' I couldn't even say good-bye." The tears spilled from his eyes and he reached out, trembling lest the Professor melt away like smoke. "Why didn't you come back?" Harry sobbed, almost melting with relief when he touched the man's shirt with his good hand and the Professor stayed solid. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough, I'm sorry!" Harry choked, pulling himself closer, needing to feel the Professor's arms around him, keeping him safe from the bad dreams and the bad people. "Please don't send me away! Don't leave me! I'll be good, I promise!"
"Hush, child," the Professor said firmly, reached out and smoothing his hair and stroking his hot face soothingly. "I'm here, and I won't leave you if I can help it. Calm down and stop getting so upset. I'm sorry I couldn't return … but I had no choice. They wouldn't let me go back to you. Understand? It wasn't my choice to abandon you."
Harry nodded and relaxed under the Professor's soothing, familiar presence. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of magical medicines, the potions and their spicy ingredients, and the man's sweat and unique, spicy smell. It was safety. It was familiar. Harry felt the man drying his tears and he took a deep breath, feeling much better, and strangely cleaner, as if his tears and apologies had wrung him out, like a dish towel.
"Can you tell me what happened to you?" the Professor asked urgently. "Did you get hurt?"
"Bracelet … burned me," Harry slurred, falling back into the inviting arms of sleep. It was nice to feel safe again and his exhausted, wrung-out little body succumbed to the siren song of rest.
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Severus kept his hand on Harry's head as he watched the child fall back to sleep. He hoped the boy had not detected how shaken he was on finding him here, with a stranger and a kidnapper. Even now, his hand trembled on the dark, messy hair. This was potentially very bad. Now that he knew the identity of the patient, it wasn't hard to place his kidnapper. The rough voice, while hoarse and somewhat different, was the same as one he distinctly remembered. The insults, while tame, were familiar in their inaccuracy and biting mockery. The motivation, while odd, fit the unsettled, paranoid image of the man which Severus had been starting to paint in his mind's eye. He would have to be very careful, indeed. An unstable Azkaban escapee, likely mentally deluded or insane, wasn't somebody to cross lightly. Plus, Severus had to remember that Sirius Black had always hated him with a pitch-black loathing that even today was a mystery to the Potions genius.
"I don't know what the hell is going on between you two, but if you don't get your slimy hand off my godson and start treating him, I'm gonna show you a thing or two, you hook-nosed vampire."
The gravelly growl of the man himself actually startled Severus, and he jerked his hand off Harry's head.
"Don't tell me you made a portkey out of a silver bracelet and simply handed it to a juvenile werewolf," Severus seethed, raising his arm and shaking his hand in the air mockingly. The bracelet portkey his kidnapper had slapped on his wrist winked innocently in the light. He had forgotten to take it off, and Black apparently had also forgotten about it.
"Well …" Sirius Black huffed, likely about to launch into a litany of excuses, as he used to do as a child.
"I said don't tell me!" Severus interrupted furiously. He rummaged through his potions and found the ointment for burns.
"Don't need to be all nasty about it, Snivellus," Black sneered. "I haven't hurt you yet, have I?"
"Besides leaving your handprint on my upper arm, no," Severus snapped. He unwrapped Harry's bandaged hand, cringing at the sight of the open blisters and filling with rage at the incompetent criminal who put them there. "I need purified water and a sanitized rag," Severus announced. He didn't look to see if the kidnapper would get them, but hearing no noise behind him, he turned around, glaring at the insolent man still standing there. "Did you hear me, Black?" he hissed.
"Ooh, you're good," the man mocked. "How long did it take you to figure out who I really was?"
"Not nearly long enough," Severus growled through clenched teeth. "But we can discuss it later. You kidnapped me to care for Potter, and care for him I will, but I need clean water and a rag! Can you handle such a menial task, or is it beneath your pureblood dignity?"
"I don't trust you alone with James' son for one minute, never mind a few seconds!" Black shouted. "You want your damn water, get up off your lazy arse and get it yourself!"
"And how am I supposed to purify it?" Severus seethed as he got to his feet. "Which of us has the wand, Black? Do you want me to boil it and wait for it to cool like a bloody muggle? Harry doesn't have that much time to wait!"
Black sneered and suddenly flicked his wand. "Petrificus Totalus," he chanted, sniggering when Severus' arms snapped to his sides, his heels clicked together, and his body fell like a board. His back and head hit the dresser hard enough for him to see stars, and Severus fell on his side, stiff and unable to move. He silently howled at the injustice of it all, and glared daggers at Black as the cloaked man sniggered again like a schoolboy before he turned and left the bedroom. Severus' head began to throb and he cautiously flexed his own magic in an attempt to break the spell binding him. But a shooting pain that made him grimace exploded in his head and chest, and he left his wandless magic alone. Normally, he was quite able to undo petrifying curses like this using his latent magic, but apparently, while he was suffering from a drained magical core, that wasn't advised. He had to content himself with lying on the dusty floor and listening to Black slamming things around in the kitchen. The man's patience obviously hadn't improved with Azkaban, if his muffled grumbling and cursing was any indication.
Harry stirred on the bed and whimpered. Severus wanted to tell the boy to hold still and not to move his injured hand, but his mouth was as petrified as his body. He wasn't really claustrophobic, but the sensation of one's muscles simply frozen in place was not a nice one, and it compelled him to struggle, however useless the effort might be. Severus controlled his urge to squirm, knowing it would only wear him out, and tried to relax. But his muscles were tightly locked and even his breathing was regulated by the spell. He wanted to scream in frustration, but he managed to close his eyes and run through an occlumency exercise to calm himself before opening his eyes again, watching Harry's bed.
The sick child didn't stir until Black returned, what felt like an eternity later. Snape glared at the escaped convict as he watched the man put a bowl of water, a roll of bandages, and a pile of folded cloths down on the small desk at the foot of the bed. He took his sweet time about it, and finally turned to his old enemy, lying helpless on the ground.
"What's the matter, Snivellus?" Black taunted, reaching out and nudging the Potions Master's unresponsive body with his toe. "You can't get out this time? Huh. And I thought you were strong enough to break a simple Petrificus curse without a wand. Maybe next time I'll just use Incarcerous since it wouldn't do to waste the magic on the likes of you. What do you think, Snape?"
Severus continued to glare at the immature idiot taunting him like a schoolboy. If he really had been in a life or death situation, he would have attempted a Legilimency attack, but Black was just an idiot. He repeated that to himself, attempting to convince himself that he didn't need to attack the convict as soon as he was freed, he didn't need to shout and curse and rage. He just needed to ignore the idiot, take care of Harry, and find a way to escape with the boy once he was healed. It would be simple, but only if he could keep his temper and not match Black for stupidity.
Black apparently grew tired of baiting Snape when it was obvious that the Potions Master was now ignoring him. The kidnapper drew his wand and flicked it with a sharp gesture, canceling the curse. Severus gasped as mobility returned and his muscles suddenly relaxed. His heart pounded, as was usual when being released from a curse like that, and his limbs shook as he eased himself to a sitting position.
"You didn't need to do that," Severus seethed. "If the boy was calling for me, does that not make you think that he and I have had some positive interaction while you were playing roommate to Bellatrix Lestrange?"
"Don't say her name!" Black snapped, his blue eyes suddenly blazing with barely controlled insanity. You say her name one more time and I'll curse you. I will; I swear it."
Severus contented himself with a derisive sneer before he smoothly stood and stepped back over to Harry's bedside. The other man grabbed him by the shoulder and dug his wand painfully into Severus' ribs.
"I'm watching you, Snivellus," he snarled. "I don't know what happened or why Harry thinks you're his friend, but I know you, and I know things aren't as innocent as you're trying to make me think. You treat his burns and the metal poisoning, and then you're gone. Got it?"
Severus impatiently shook off the man's hand. "If you would cease and desist your ridiculous paranoia, I would like to see to my patient now," he sneered.
Black released him, but didn't step far away. Severus had to resign himself to the escaped convict breathing down his neck as he gently picked up Harry's hand and examined it again.
"I need more light," Severus snapped. He didn't bother to look at Black, and reached for the bowl of water. "I hope you purified it properly," he muttered. "All I need is for the boy's infection to get worse because of your laziness and then you blame me."
"It's purified fine," Black snapped back. "Lumos Maxima!" The floating globes of light blazed brighter, and Black reached over to close the heavy drapes on either side of the small window above Harry's bed.
Severus silently washed his hands in the water before he used a disinfecting solution from his potion bag. He poured a bit of the liquid over Harry's hand and wiped the swollen, infected burns with a clean cloth. The boy moaned softly at the pain and his head tossed, but he didn't wake. Black watched silently as Severus applied a strong antibacterial ointment to the hand and wrapped it skillfully in the bandages Black brought. He placed his own hand on Harry's forehead, trying to gauge the temperature. His fever was high, but not as high as it could be. He pulled out the needed potions and lined them up on the floor by his knees.
"Harry," Severus called softly, nudging the boy's shoulder. To his surprise, Harry stirred and his eyes opened right away. He squinted in the bright light, but he looked calm enough. "I have potions for you to take," Severus informed him. "Would you like to sit up?"
Harry nodded and sat up, yawning and rubbing his head with his good hand. Severus wrapped an arm around the child's shoulders, helping him to sit up. A thrill of warmth surged through his chest as the child leaned contentedly against his shoulder. He murmured encouragement as the boy obediently downed a nasty fever reducer, a pain relief potion, an anti-infection potion, and a nutrient potion. If he gave Harry's body the time and strength it needed, he would fight off the silver poisoning on his own. If he had access to his lab, he could probably brew something to help speed up the process, but unfortunately he wasn't sure what else to do. His books on Werewolf physiology basically encouraged him to let things take their normal course. Werewolves were supposedly much tougher and more resilient than ordinary humans. Harry would heal quickly, and hopefully Black wouldn't expose silver to the child again. He was still so young and his skin was still thin and delicate. The poor diet he had been subjected to so far in his life would contribute to his frailty, but Severus was confident that if he could get the boy away from the Dursleys, the boy would become stronger very quickly. There was just the problem of their kidnapper to worry about.
"Yuck," Harry murmured once the last potion had been choked down.
"You did very well," Severus muttered, awkwardly patting the child's shoulder. "Are you hungry?"
Harry nodded and blinked up at him sleepily. "I'm thirsty, Professor," he said quietly.
Severus sighed and put Harry back down on his pillow. "Black," he said warily.
The kidnapper snorted and handed over a mug of water. He'd apparently done a bit of conjuring while the Potions Master was busy with Harry. The child greedily gulped down the water, and Severus felt his forehead again. To his relief, the fever was down and Harry had lost the painful, pinched expression on his face.
"Why don't you rest," Severus suggested. "I'll see if there's anything to eat around here."
Harry nodded obediently and closed his eyes. Severus pulled the blankets up around the boy and busied himself with cleaning up. He was angry with himself for not being able to do a more thorough examination with his own wand, or even with his eyes and hands, but Black was already so on edge that suggesting he needed to undress Harry to check him over for other injuries might not be a safe thing to do right now. He replaced his empty bottles in his bag and put the satchel on the desk for later. Scooping up the bowl of water and the used rags, he left the bedroom, Black trailing behind like a watchful dog.
"So what did happen with you two?" Black suddenly muttered. He didn't sound as aggressive, and Snape glanced over his shoulder at the man. Black had canceled the bright hovering balls of light in the bedroom, so the only light now came from the fireplace. The shadows here were eerie, but the flickering firelight made the room into a hushed, cozy sort of place that Severus actually thought was rather nice.
Severus put the bowl and things down on the dining table and looked around. There really wasn't much here. He saw a ladder leading up to a loft, another door that led to a second bedroom, and this room. He was pretty sure the ghastly armchair by the fire was a transfiguration, but everything else looked solid and normal. Dining table and chairs, some work spaces against the far wall, a sofa and a love seat under the window by the door, and wooden cabinets with old-fashioned wood latches on their fronts. It was so unlike a magical home that Severus wondered who had lived here. Remembering that his captor had asked him a question, (in a relatively civil manner for a Black) he turned to fully face the man in the shadows.
"What happened between the boy and I is hardly consequential," he replied to Black's sullen inquiry. "How did you find this place? It is not what I imagined a Black's safe-house to look like."
"It's just a cabin," Black grumbled. He moved to the fireplace and put some more wood on, stirring the embers with the poker and allowing more light and warmth to fill the little hovel.
Severus looked around again and wondered where this cabin was located. If he had a good idea of where he was, he might be able to apparate, at least to Spinner's End. But the thought of his drained magical core put a damper on that idea. He sighed heavily when he thought of that cauldron of Magical Core Replenisher in his lab. It was going to overcook and be ruined, and it might even explode. What a waste of expensive ingredients.
"What's your problem, Snape?" Black growled, almost sounding amused. "Wondering where you're gonna sleep tonight?"
Severus glared at the man crouched in front of the fire. "I left a very expensive potion brewing in my lab. Why didn't you even let me put it in stasis?"
"You didn't ask," Black rejoined, now definitely amused.
"I was focusing more on not getting cursed by a psychotic Azkaban escapee," Severus threw back.
"Ah, but you didn't know who I was at the time, did you?" Black grinned maniacally. "Did you think I was maybe one of your little Death Eater friends?"
"Two things, Black," Severus said coldly. "First, Death Eaters do not have 'friends'. Second, I am no longer a Death Eater, so the point is moot."
"So you say," Black snarled, his mood quickly changing back to hateful. He stood and stalked toward Severus, his wand upraised. The Potions Master crossed his arms and huffed at the obvious display.
"Is that meant to be intimidating?" Severus sneered. "Because you are nothing compared to the Dark Lord. Or Albus Dumbledore for that matter. I am not afraid of you, Black. You have always been a posturing, unstable, arrogant little brat, and you haven't changed."
"You've always been a sneaking, slimy, treacherous little snake, and you haven't changed either!" Black shouted, jabbing his wand into Snape's bony chest and seeming to get more infuriated when Severus merely raised an eyebrow at him.
"I will add 'immature' to that list," Severus said coolly.
Black spluttered incoherently, and Severus almost wanted to smirk at how easy the Gryffindor was to rile, but he had pushed the unstable idiot too far already. He reached up and shoved the wand down. "Enough," he said firmly. "Do you have any food here? Harry will need some more substantial nourishment than the nutrient potions I brought. Those are meant to be supplements, not meal replacements."
Black glared at him for several more seconds before he pocketed the wand and moved to the cabinets. He fumbled around before producing a muggle lighter and lighting up two old-fashioned kerosene lamps on the walls. The pleasant glow that filled the little room was certainly different from a lumos charm, but Severus found that he rather liked it. Black flung open a couple of the cabinets and stepped aside, crossing his arms as he watched the Potions Master inspect the offerings.
One of the cabinets had been charmed to stay cold like a refrigerator, and the other was just charmed to keep food fresh and stable. Both were rather full, and Severus nodded approvingly before selecting ingredients to make a simple soup. There was no chicken in the cold-cabinet, but there was a cheap side of beef which would have to do. Black stood silently and watched Severus' nimble, potion-stained fingers make quick work of the vegetables and meat. He watched as Severus cooked the chunks of beef, added the vegetables, and poured in the water. There was a crude sink in the counter lining the wall under the cabinets, and by some magic or ingenuity, the faucet worked nicely, and the water tasted clean. Severus hunted in the other cabinets before he grudgingly admitted that the only seasonings available were salt and pepper since Black hadn't seen fit to pick up herbs while he was grocery shopping. He seasoned the soup, but the lid on, and left it to cook.
"Where'd you learn to cook?" Black demanded petulantly. "Is that why you're such a whiz at Potions?"
"… Did you just give me a compliment?" Severus demanded after several stunned seconds.
"Just common knowledge," Black grunted, apparently not intending his comment to be received as such. "My strengths lie in Transfiguration and Defense; always have. You've always been obsessed with Potions and everybody knows it. So … you live at Hogwarts now, or what?"
"I teach Potions, and I am Head of Slytherin House," Severus replied smoothly. He sat down in the ghastly armchair and crossed his ankles, affecting relaxation, but ready to jump away if Black started throwing curses or lunging at him like a rabid dog.
Black coughed in surprise. "Dumbledore lets you run the snakes' pit?" he demanded derisively. "Since when?"
"Since Slughorn retired," Severus snapped. "Look, are we going to talk or bicker? Because in either case, you ought to pull up another chair and stop hanging around in the shadows. It's rude."
"Humph!" Black snorted unintelligently. But he dragged a dining chair over, transfigured it into another version of the chair Severus had commandeered, and plunked himself down. For several minutes, they were silent. They watched one another, though they were both pretending to watch the fire and the pot warming quietly above the flames. The silence gradually eased the tension, and Severus found himself relaxing. Despite the awful and useless decorations on his chair, it was remarkably comfortable. He realized that his body ached and his head throbbed, and he checked his internal clock, wondering if Black would let him return to Hogwarts to at least save his potion for later. He doubted it, but it wouldn't hurt to hope. Black seemed alright; in fact, he wasn't acting like the Dark Lord's lieutenant at all. Severus wasn't willing to trust the escapee anytime soon, if ever, but he would bet that for whatever reason, Black didn't want to hurt Harry. At least, not right now. He felt it was safe to close his eyes, just for a few minutes. The flickering firelight wasn't doing anything for the pounding in his skull anyway.
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Sirius relaxed when it was obvious that Snape had fallen asleep. His nerves had been high-strung ever since he set out on his mad mission to kidnap the slimy git for Harry's sake, and now that the danger seemed past, he felt like he could breath again.
Sleeping, Snape didn't look nearly as dangerous. He was tall and thin, but he seemed to be all bones without a billowing robe to hide behind. His black hair was as lank and greasy as ever, and his hooked nose looked even more crooked than it had seven years ago. The lines had gone out of his face and he looked younger, but tired. Sirius realized that Snape was pale and there were dark circles of exhaustion under his eyes. Plus, Snape had just fallen asleep while he was awake and in the same room. If that didn't speak of exhaustion, Sirius wasn't sure what would.
He was grateful that Snivellus hadn't tried any funny business, though it was disconcerting how comfortable he and Harry seemed. Sure, Harry had talked about his 'Professor' literally ever since they met one another, but he hadn't really been thinking. Hearing 'Professor Snape' made him wonder what sort of teacher old Snivellus would be and why in the world Harry seemed so attached to him. He thought back to Harry's ramblings, back when he was 'Snuffles'. The boy had gone on and on about his Professor and how kind (and grumpy) he was, but he still didn't believe that Snape of all people could be kind to a Potter. But as they say, the proof was in the pudding. Snape had been thoughtful with the boy. He didn't shout or insult; he wasn't rough and he didn't cause unnecessary pain … in fact, Sirius had no idea what to make of Snape's behavior. His mind raced around and around, wondering what in the world had happened to make Snivellus forget that Harry was a Potter. The boy, well, he was only eight and he probably had no idea that his father had been Snape's biggest rival back in the day. But this was Severus Snape: king of grudges, prince of vengeance, and emperor of pettiness! Sirius couldn't remember anyone in his year who had come close to Snape in being such an absolute git. Even Lily eventually gave up on him.
The more Sirius thought about it, the more his stomach turned. The only thing he could think of was that somehow, Snape was using Harry. It would be the perfect revenge, Sirius thought with a sick feeling in his stomach. Corrupt the innocent child, and then sit back and wait until he was old enough to understand what had been done to him. It would shatter the poor child. Once Harry understood how terribly he had been betrayed, then Snape would attack, just like a vulture. Sirius had heard and seen how Death Eaters were trained, initiated, and rewarded. The bodies of the countless victims he had recovered back during his days as an Auror seemed to float before Sirius' eyes, demanding he see the obvious and save his godson from an unspeakable fate.
Sirius growled softly and lunged to his feet, groping for his wand. He ought to just kill the filthy Death Eater scum right here and now. Dumbledore probably wouldn't even care much. After all, the Headmaster hadn't done very much after he almost got Snivellus killed in sixth year. In addition, Dumbledore likely didn't know what was going on with them. Had Snape been sneaking over to the Dursleys to hurt Harry? Telling him lies to gain his trust, and perhaps encouraging those beastly relatives to torment the child to further drive him to trust the 'one' person who seemed to care? His imagination tortured him with lurid pictures and Sirius whimpered, pressing a hand to his forehead and swaying with dizziness. He shut his eyes and shook his throbbing head, attempting to clear it. He wasn't thinking clearly, but he knew he couldn't just kill Snape without proof of anything.
It could be that Dumbledore had actually ordered Snape to keep an eye on Harry and Snivellus just felt sorry for the boy, that's all. Maybe Snape was like Harry's doctor, since Poppy couldn't always be spared. After all, Dumbledore had to have a good reason for keeping Harry with those muggles. Otherwise, it made no sense to just leave the boy where he was hated and hurt all the time.
Sirius sighed and tip-toed back to Harry's bedroom, shifting into Padfoot as he did so. An animal's thoughts and emotions were simpler than a human's, and his head hurt too much to keep thinking and puzzling over this. He would keep an eye on Snape, talk to Harry, and play it from there. For now, all that mattered was keeping Harry safe and getting him well. He could worry about other things later.
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Yet another chapter! I hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you think of Sirius. Am I going too far with his paranoia and immaturity? I know him and Snape never got along, and even in the books, they snipe at each other constantly in Order meetings or when they bump into each other at Grimmauld Place. But Snape isn't quite so far gone at this point, and Sirius still spent seven years in Azkaban ... so let me know what you think.
And Dumbledore is getting worse as time goes on, sheesh. I did not anticipate him turning out like this when I wrote my first Dumbledore scenes, and I might go back and edit those first interactions to foreshadow a bit, I don't know. If I don't, it's fine because Dumbledore is a dreadfully good actor. He should have been a Slytherin! Can you imagine little Albus under the Sorting Hat, "Anything but Slytherin! Please not Slytherin!"
Thank you for all your reviews! Thanks especially to the guests who I cannot reply to. I love your reviews, especially the long ones. I'm so glad you are all enjoying this story!