Disclaimer and Author's Note: Don't own them, I only own the secretary and
Flavic Cowan. This chapter is a little strange but I'm trying my best with
this story as well as A Little Thing Called Ambition, so don't flame! (By
the way, Ambition readers, I'll get the next chapter out soon, I promise.)
I hope you enjoy chapter two.
The Stains That Never Come Out
Chapter 2: He'll Never Ask For Help
CRASH!
That, the Headmaster estimated, was probably a chair.
He heard a light cry of pain following that resounding noise and started from his humble wooden chair outsidethe door to Snape's office. He was torn, Severus would probably pitch a fit if he knew that Albus was out here but if he didn't go see what was the matter Snape could be seriously hurt.
He decided to risk the younger man's infamous wrath and walked into the room in a flurry of velvet robes of royal blue.
The scene he was greeted with was complete and total chaos.
There were shards of splintered wood in a corner and the floor was littered with broken glass and Snape himself wasn't much better off.
He had evidently broken his wrist and an ankle and gotten some splinters in various parts of his body. But his physical pain was nothing in comparison to the emotional turmoil he was dealing with.
Severus was standing off in the corner breathing heavily but his eyes blazed with a rage that would have incinerated Neville Longbottom.
"Severus," the older man began tentativly, unsure if Snape was liable to hex him, "would you like for me to send for Poppy?"
Despite his hurricane-like fury, Snape managed to retain some of his aristocratic haughtiness and straightened, saying coldly, "no thank you Headmaster."
Where beating around the proverbial bush didn't work, bluntness succeeded and Dumbledore said flatly, "Severus, don't be stupid. It's your buisness if you want to throw furniture around your dungeons but I have an obligation to the well being of the staff and, like it or not you are on my staff. Now you can go willingly up to Poppy or I can Levitate you there myself if need be."
Snape blinked, momentarily stunned. It was obvious that no one had spoken that way to him in a long time.
When the Potions Master had recovered his wits, managing to look slightly offended in the process, he replied gruffly, "I'd prefer if you'd call a Healer."
Healers, a type of mediwizard, often doctored people in their private homes and were obligated to hold a code of silence to their patients if the person requested it. It was no wonder that Snape wanted a Healer under the circumstances.
Albus nodded briskly to Snape and then eyed the room in a way that finally the stubborn younger man growled, "fine, let's go to my rooms then if you so object to my office."
As Snape limped ahead of him, trying to regain his usual prowling gait Dumbledore noticed that Snape was still looking offended at the manner in which he had been spoken to. Strange…Dumbledore would have thought that so proud a man would want it to seem like he wasn't getting preferential treatment.
He watched as Snape slowly and painfully made his way up the stairs and out of the dungeons. While it hurt being a bystander to such pain he knew Severus well enough to know that Snape would be damned before he had anyone coddle HIM.
They weren't going to make any progress this way so Dumbledore trotted ahead of Snape to the man's quarters which were placed at the entrance to the dungeons rather than in their dank depths.
"Severus, what's your password?" He called down.
"Senette," he yelled back.
Dumbledore had to smile at that. Senette was the name of Snape's identical twin brother. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the wily Snape twins together since their school days.
But then again, he remembered how getting the entire Snape family together in one room could be a nearly impossible task. It wasn't that they didn't love each other, for they did in their own weird and insulting way. But it was that they preferred, "long distance love" as Senette had laughingly put it.
"Senette," the old wizard declared to the gray stone wall in front of him, watching as the stones rearranged themselves to create a small archway.
Dumbledore hurried to the fireplace and rummaged through the objects on the mantelpiece finally finding a small black box and threw a handful of it's powdering contents onto the dying embers of the fire.
They glowed an eerie green and he called for Cowan Healer's Guild. A secretary's head appeared among the green flames, her graying hair pulled into a fluffy sort of bun.
"Cowan Healer's Guild, how may I help you?" she drawled her mantra lazily, chewing on what looked suspiciously like a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.
"I'd like to speak to Flavic Cowan please," Dumbledore requested with his usual dash of good manners.
"Sure," the secretary agreed amiably and disappeared with a pop, to reveal a moment later a young man in his early twenties with unruly auburn curls and friendly gold-green eyes.
"Hello Albus, what seems to be the trouble," the easy going Flavic inquired with a smile.
Dumbledore returned the smile and said, "I believe I have a situation on my hands here Dr.Cowan, a friend of mine is having a spot of trouble."
That was an understatement, Dumbledore thought to himself. A spot of trouble described Severus condition the way a little tremble described a mind-shattering earthquake.
While Dumbledore described Snape's condition, both mental and physical, the man in question was having issues with the stairs.
Why, he thought, did stairs have to be so…stair-like?
He grunted and felt the pinch of his splinters as he dragged himself up each one with agonizing slowness. Banisters were a very good invention but were made difficult to use with a broken wrist.
Up above him he heard Dumbledore talking to someone he assumed who was the Healer.
He felt slightly humiliated by this, after all these years the man was still taking care of him.
FINALLY! He'd gotten to the top of the ruddy stairs! Pulling himself along the wall he got to the archway leading to his private quarters where the Healer's head was getting his debriefing.
"Really Albus, the man can't be THAT bad," the Healer protested.
Snape smirked at that, if the man believed that then he had obviously never spoken to Neville Longbottom.
The Stains That Never Come Out
Chapter 2: He'll Never Ask For Help
CRASH!
That, the Headmaster estimated, was probably a chair.
He heard a light cry of pain following that resounding noise and started from his humble wooden chair outsidethe door to Snape's office. He was torn, Severus would probably pitch a fit if he knew that Albus was out here but if he didn't go see what was the matter Snape could be seriously hurt.
He decided to risk the younger man's infamous wrath and walked into the room in a flurry of velvet robes of royal blue.
The scene he was greeted with was complete and total chaos.
There were shards of splintered wood in a corner and the floor was littered with broken glass and Snape himself wasn't much better off.
He had evidently broken his wrist and an ankle and gotten some splinters in various parts of his body. But his physical pain was nothing in comparison to the emotional turmoil he was dealing with.
Severus was standing off in the corner breathing heavily but his eyes blazed with a rage that would have incinerated Neville Longbottom.
"Severus," the older man began tentativly, unsure if Snape was liable to hex him, "would you like for me to send for Poppy?"
Despite his hurricane-like fury, Snape managed to retain some of his aristocratic haughtiness and straightened, saying coldly, "no thank you Headmaster."
Where beating around the proverbial bush didn't work, bluntness succeeded and Dumbledore said flatly, "Severus, don't be stupid. It's your buisness if you want to throw furniture around your dungeons but I have an obligation to the well being of the staff and, like it or not you are on my staff. Now you can go willingly up to Poppy or I can Levitate you there myself if need be."
Snape blinked, momentarily stunned. It was obvious that no one had spoken that way to him in a long time.
When the Potions Master had recovered his wits, managing to look slightly offended in the process, he replied gruffly, "I'd prefer if you'd call a Healer."
Healers, a type of mediwizard, often doctored people in their private homes and were obligated to hold a code of silence to their patients if the person requested it. It was no wonder that Snape wanted a Healer under the circumstances.
Albus nodded briskly to Snape and then eyed the room in a way that finally the stubborn younger man growled, "fine, let's go to my rooms then if you so object to my office."
As Snape limped ahead of him, trying to regain his usual prowling gait Dumbledore noticed that Snape was still looking offended at the manner in which he had been spoken to. Strange…Dumbledore would have thought that so proud a man would want it to seem like he wasn't getting preferential treatment.
He watched as Snape slowly and painfully made his way up the stairs and out of the dungeons. While it hurt being a bystander to such pain he knew Severus well enough to know that Snape would be damned before he had anyone coddle HIM.
They weren't going to make any progress this way so Dumbledore trotted ahead of Snape to the man's quarters which were placed at the entrance to the dungeons rather than in their dank depths.
"Severus, what's your password?" He called down.
"Senette," he yelled back.
Dumbledore had to smile at that. Senette was the name of Snape's identical twin brother. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the wily Snape twins together since their school days.
But then again, he remembered how getting the entire Snape family together in one room could be a nearly impossible task. It wasn't that they didn't love each other, for they did in their own weird and insulting way. But it was that they preferred, "long distance love" as Senette had laughingly put it.
"Senette," the old wizard declared to the gray stone wall in front of him, watching as the stones rearranged themselves to create a small archway.
Dumbledore hurried to the fireplace and rummaged through the objects on the mantelpiece finally finding a small black box and threw a handful of it's powdering contents onto the dying embers of the fire.
They glowed an eerie green and he called for Cowan Healer's Guild. A secretary's head appeared among the green flames, her graying hair pulled into a fluffy sort of bun.
"Cowan Healer's Guild, how may I help you?" she drawled her mantra lazily, chewing on what looked suspiciously like a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.
"I'd like to speak to Flavic Cowan please," Dumbledore requested with his usual dash of good manners.
"Sure," the secretary agreed amiably and disappeared with a pop, to reveal a moment later a young man in his early twenties with unruly auburn curls and friendly gold-green eyes.
"Hello Albus, what seems to be the trouble," the easy going Flavic inquired with a smile.
Dumbledore returned the smile and said, "I believe I have a situation on my hands here Dr.Cowan, a friend of mine is having a spot of trouble."
That was an understatement, Dumbledore thought to himself. A spot of trouble described Severus condition the way a little tremble described a mind-shattering earthquake.
While Dumbledore described Snape's condition, both mental and physical, the man in question was having issues with the stairs.
Why, he thought, did stairs have to be so…stair-like?
He grunted and felt the pinch of his splinters as he dragged himself up each one with agonizing slowness. Banisters were a very good invention but were made difficult to use with a broken wrist.
Up above him he heard Dumbledore talking to someone he assumed who was the Healer.
He felt slightly humiliated by this, after all these years the man was still taking care of him.
FINALLY! He'd gotten to the top of the ruddy stairs! Pulling himself along the wall he got to the archway leading to his private quarters where the Healer's head was getting his debriefing.
"Really Albus, the man can't be THAT bad," the Healer protested.
Snape smirked at that, if the man believed that then he had obviously never spoken to Neville Longbottom.