"I Can't Let You Love Me"

Chapter Two: Harsh Reality



Severus had thought the beating and torture a sure sign he had not convinced them and that death was coming. Now he understood that the physical abuse was administered to leave him weak and unable to overcome the serum. They had underestimated him. Unless he missed his guess, Severus thought they had also overestimated the power of their serum. If he hadn't been so weak and in pain Severus could have fought this particular serum with ease. It was much more difficult in his current state, but he managed... thankful that he had been the only Death Eater with true skill in potions brewing.

Eventually, Crabbe and Goyle Sr. roughly released his bindings and pulled him to his feet. They held him up while Malfoy straightened his robes and waved his wand to clean them up.

"We're sending you back to that idiot and we expect regular reports. Don't give us reason to doubt you, Snape," Malfoy hissed, "Or you will regret it."

Malfoy stepped back and looked Snape over, nodding. Now Severus understood why Crabbe and Goyle had avoided hitting his face. He needed to appear normal to go back. Of course it might help if the sadists actually tried to heal a few of his bones, including the ones in his left ankle. Still, he wasn't inclined to complain. If he could just get out of here he would worry about that later. After all, it wasn't as if he hadn't a great deal of experience with beating and broken bones. He'd walked around with un-set broken bones more than once in his childhood.

Malfoy handed him his wand and Severus disapparated almost before Crabbe and Goyle Sr. let go. He appeared a short way from the gates of Hogwarts. Almost immediately his ankle gave way and he fell to the cold ground, grateful for the darkness that hid him from sight. He lay there for a moment thinking how ironic it was that the cold ground actually felt good on his bruised and aching body. He clearly wasn't as young as he used to be and had lost some of his ability to move about on broken bones. "Ah, but I don't' have any gray hair, so I'll have to call it even," Snape thought to himself with a wry smile.

Well, clearly he needed some assistance to get up to the castle. He really didn't think he'd be able to self-levitate in his condition and he certainly wasn't going to crawl. Severus sighed. Hagrid. His cabin was probably closer than the castle. It made the most sense to send word to Hagrid. With a sigh, Severus raised his wand and a wisp of silver shot out of it and went streaking through the trees toward Hagrid's cabin.

A short time later heavy footfalls announced Hagrid's arrival. For a brief moment Severus thought he might have gotten away from the Death Eaters only to be shot through the heart with an arrow. But, after a moment of intense scrutiny, Hagrid lowered his crossbow and rushed over.

"Per-fessor Snape!" he cried started, "Yer hurt!"

"Yes, Hagrid, I am" Severus said trying not to sound too testy, although he didn't know why. "I was hoping you would assist me in making my way to the castle."

"O course, O course! Dumbledore's been in a right state about you, Perfessor! He'll be very glad tuh see ye." With that Hagrid bent down and scooped up Severus as easily as if he were a doll.



He must have passed out while Hagrid carried him up to the hospital wing, for the next thing of which Severus was aware was being in a bed in the ward and hearing a shuffling step and rustling robe that indicated someone nearby was pacing. Severus opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the dim light. He could only just make out the figure of Dumbledore pacing up and down the center of the ward, seemingly deep in thought.

Severus felt a rush of gratitude at the sight of the man., and then immediately chided himself for his emotional weakness. That was what would likely get him or someone else killed. Dumbledore turned at the end of the room and started back. After a few steps he stopped, looked toward Severus and came to his bedside.

"Severus! How good to see you awake." Dumbledore said with a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Thank you, headmaster," Snape said. Then, before Dumbledore had to ask he began to explain the events of the last several days. He stuck to the facts, omitting his private thoughts. Dumbledore looked at him searchingly when he had finished and Snape wondered what he had been able to intuit. Dumbledore, however, kept his thoughts to himself and for this Severus was grateful.

"Severus," he said quietly, "thank you."

Severus nodded curtly and looked away. He wasn't sure Dumbledore would thank him if he knew he had seriously entertained thoughts of quitting. Poppy Pomfrey broke the moment by bustling over with a goblet which she insisted Severus drink. Even before he finished he could feel the heaviness of sleep overtaking him.

When he woke sunlight was coming through the windows and there was something lying against him. He looked down and started. Phoebe, or rather her head, was lying on the bed next to him. She had obviously been sitting beside him and had fallen asleep, pitching forward onto the bed. As he moved she stirred, straightened up suddenly, looked at him, and gasped. She looked pale and squinty eyed as she usually did in the morning. She did not look ill-tempered, however, she looked... scared.

Even as this registered, her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears... with tears? Next thing he knew her head was once again on the bed and she was crying. Phoebe. Crying. He had seen her cheerful. He had seen her grumpy. He had seen her in many moods but never one this... well... emotional. Frankly he had no idea what to make of this, let alone what to do about it, none at all. He didn't recall ever being told what to do when someone throws their head down on your hospital bed and weeps. Instinct, long buried, told him to put his hand on her shoulder as she cried. He soon found himself gently stroking her hair. He knew that it was right somehow.

He didn't know why he wept. Was it relief? Despair? Fear? He could feel her shaking and wished he knew what to say to soother her, but he did not. He wanted to tell her not to cry but he knew this was wrong. Albus had told him over and again that people needed to cry, to release their emotions. Of course that was because Severus never did. But still... He also wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but he didn't know that. He wasn't even sure why she was crying.

"Phoebe, what is it? Can I help?"

Suddenly she was shaking harder.

"I'm sorry," Severus said, startled. But at this, she began to pull away and he tried to ignore the stab of paint his caused him. He lifted his hand to let her go.

When she straightened up he could see she was laughing. Laughing! Rejection was hard enough, but laughter?

She saw the look on his face and stopped.

"No, I'm sorry. It's just that... Well, Severus, what it is... what it is... is you. You can't help how I feel. I'm sorry I'm a little hysterical, I think. I'm not sure, I've never been hysterical. Anyway, you apologizing... I'm sorry I should never have done that. I shouldn't have come." She made a sudden movement to leave and Severus' hand shot out with surprising speed to grab her wrist. He saw his action for what it was: one of desperation, of foolish hope. He hated how vulnerable this made him feel, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Phoebe, please, I still don't understand. Why shouldn't you have come? What shouldn't you have done?" he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, "Please tell me."

She pulled her wrist from his grasp and turned her back. Severus felt his heart sink to a place he didn't know he had within him. She stood there for a moment, breathing hard. Finally, without turning, she said, "Severus, I... I'm... in... love... with you."

Severus felt that odd sensation in his chest... the one he had felt when Phoebe had wondered aloud if she could take points from students' houses if they were too cheerful and when she asked him if Dumbledore would mind if she took points for Ginny Weasley's red hair. The sensation bubbled up and suddenly he was laughing. He could see Phoebe stiffen and make a move toward the door. Ignoring the protests of recently mended broken bones and more bruises than he could count Severus slid out of bed and managed to catch her by the arm. He tried to turn her around, overbalanced and nearly feel.

Phoebe had caught him, but she refused to look at him. She stared fixedly at the floor.

"Phoebe," he said. She continued to look down. "Phoebe," He said more insistently.

She looked up and gave a small gasp of surprise.

"Severus, you're crying!"

He was sruprised, He hadn't realized this. He moved his hand to his wet cheek in wonder. He was crying. He couldn't remember the last time he had wept. Yet there they were: tears slipping down his cheeks in a procession of joy.

He looked at Phoebe who stood, transfixed, an uncertain look on her face. Suddenly Severus was overcome by the urge to do something very un-Snape-like and he didn't care. He moved closer to Phoebe and pressed his lips to hers. Even as he did so, he realized she was crying again, too. Were they her salty tears he tasted or his own?

Suddenly he felt light-headed, and weak. He stumbled backward to fall on the bed, unintentionally pulling Phoebe down with him.

"Professor Snape! Professor Taylor!" came the indignant cry of Poppy Pomfrey, "What are you doing?"

"I tripped, Poppy," Phoebe said, winking at Severus.

Pomfrey's eyebrows moved toward her brow but she kept her own counsel, merely asking, "Are you alright, then?"

Standing up and brushing off her robes Phoebe said, "Oh yes, I am. How about you Professor Snape?"

"I am very well, thank you."

"Nonsense," Pomfrey said, bustling past Phoebe, "You've got a tremendous amount of healing to do and I'm here to make sure you do it."

"And a fine job you will do, I'm sure," came a venerable voice from the doorway. Dumbledore stood there wearing an expression of benevolent amusement. How long had he been there? Even as Severus met his eyes, Dumbledore's expression became grave. Still, as he moved forward, he smiled.

"Poppy, may I treat you to a cup of hot cocoa in the staff room? I think you deserve a break."

"Headmaster I'm fi-" Pomfrey began, then her eyes darted to Severus and Phoebe, "I'd be delighted." she said suddenly and walked toward the door, Albus Dumbledore in her wake.

As the door shut Pheobe (who was still sitting next to Severus on the bed) turned her head toward him and smiled shyly. She put twined her hands behind his neck and pulled his face to hers, kissing him. Severus felt a strange lightness in his chest as he kissed her back, eagerly, almost hungrily. He raised his own arms (ignoring the soreness) to circle her back. Once again his bruised bones and muscles failed him, he overbalanced and fell backward into the bed with a small cry of pain.

Phoebe looked horrified but he just laughed, laughed out loud, wondering at the strangeness of the sound. When he had stopped Phoebe helped him to a sitting position on the bed. He was surprised to see the look of anger on her features as she sat, again, on the edge of the bed. Her fists were clenched into tight balls, the knuckles standing out white.

"If I could kill them for what they did to you," she whispered harshly, "I would. As it is, I'm grateful I don't have any of the little deatheater spawn in my classes... I don't think I could take it."

Her anger at the Death Eaters and her fear was like a splash of cold reality. What a fool he continued to be. With his role as a double agent...

"Phoebe," Severus said, quickly reality crashing in, "You mustn't let these feelings you have show to anyone, it is very dangerous."

"I know, I know, I would never endanger you that way. I won't give the slightest hint I know anything of what happened besides the 'official' story. What is it? Something about the Forbidden Forest?"

"Yes," Severus said heavily, "I am stubbornly insisting I got into some trouble in the forest and refusing to elaborate on the details."

"How convenient," Phoebe said, dryly.

In the silence that stretched Severus struggled with what he knew he had to do next. It was harder than he imagined, but it had to be done.

"And I can't," he started, voice faltering a bit, "I can't let you love me. It will only get you killed one way or another."

"What?"

"It's too much leverage for the Death Eaters to resist, if they know I care about you... trust me."

"Even if they think you're loyal?"

"Phoebe, they never think anyone is loyal... just 'in line.' How they keep you in line is by holding the threat of abduction, torture, and death over people you care about."

"I don't really care." she said.

"Well, I think I do," Severus said quietly, "I can't let you love me."

Phoebe was on her feet, "You can't tell me how to feel," she said hotly, "And it's too Bloody Damn late. I don't think you get it, Severus. Now that I know you care about me... and you can no longer deny that you do... then life not loving you would be worse than dying."

"Dammit!" Severus' voice was full of self-loathing, "Damn my foolish selfish weakness! Why did I have to ask? Have to-"

Tears sparkled in Phoebe's eyes, "No. Don't say it, I couldn't bear it."

Severus' voice was strange to him, strangled, "I can't, I can't. Please, you have to go. I won't change my mind."

Phoebe was frozen, staring.

"GO!" Severus yelled in a voice that shook his bed. Pheobe slowly turned and walked away.