The next time Snape awoke, alone in the Hospital Wing, he felt rested and
content. The Mark had returned to its dormant state and the potion seemed
to be doing its job. He sat up and found his clothes draped over a nearby
chair. He was halfway out of the horrible hospital gown and partially into
his trousers when Poppy came out of her office and began to bellow at him.
"Exactly where do you think you are going?" she snapped. "I don't seem to remember telling you that you could leave, Snape."
She stalked to him and smirked at his feeble attempts to yank up his trousers and cover his bare backside.
"Poppy," he began, smoothly. "I am fine. I've lived through the activation of the Dark Mark before. It's just the first time I've been forced to resist the call. I'm fine. Let me go find my wife, now, before she drives herself into exhaustion attempting to cure me, please?"
She shook her head at him but helped him into his clothing. Summoning a tray of sandwiches and leftover Christmas cake, she shoved him backwards onto the bed and ordered him to eat before he left the wing. He complied and munched hungrily while she hovered around him, checking his pulse and waving her wand over his chest and arm - and surprisingly, she gave his hair a quick brushing. He looked at her startled.
"You look like hell, Severus. Stubble, red eyes, pale - at least you could comb your hair for your wife," she said, smugly. "I didn't believe you would think of it before you left."
She paused, trying to decide if it were safe to tease the younger man. He had always been rather serious and mysterious, even in school, she thought. But he used to smile and joke. The man he had grown into was sullen and prone to fits of temper when provoked - but she missed the young man he had been and she couldn't resist the urge.
"I'd brush my teeth before you leave, as well," she said, gesturing to the bath and grinning. "I have no doubt in my mind exactly what you and Hermione will be doing the moment you reappear in the lab, so I think it is my duty to not send you there with dragon's breath. She's nauseous enough as it is, my dear boy."
Snape began to bristle at her cheek and reply with a blazing remark, but thought better of it. 'After all,' he mused. 'She's probably right - both about my breath and about what I'll shortly be doing.' He shifted his robes to cover the embarrassing bulge that had arrived in his trousers at her implications and grinned at her instead.
"Where did you say the toothbrush is, Poppy?"
Some time later, Snape arrived in the potions classroom to find Harry and Ron sitting at their usual desk and pouring over stacks of books - parchment and notebooks scattered on the desk behind them and on the floor. Several smaller cauldrons were bubbling in a corner and ingredients were neatly laid out on yet another work table. Hermione wasn't there; he rather hoped she had gone back to her quarters to sleep. He watched the two seventh-years for some time with curiosity from the doorway; suddenly Harry slammed a large book shut and then tossed it on the stone floor with a frustrated bang.
"We're never going to find anything," he said. "Dammit, why did Hermione have to fall in love with that stupid git. She isn't going to let any of us rest until that Mark is gone, you know that don't you, Ron?"
Ron nodded, blearily trying to focus on the page in front of him.
"Harry, this isn't much fun, but you heard her. She thinks it's her fault he joined up with Voldemort in the first place," he said, closing the massive book and rubbing his eyes. "If anything happens to him, she'll never forgive herself."
"So, as much as it pains us, we have to help *Snape,*" Ron finished. "Brilliant, just bloody brilliant. He makes the mistake and the three of us are paying."
"I think Snape has paid more than we will ever know, Ron," said Harry, contemplatively. "I suspect he has been through a lot in the years he was a spy. When we were both injured at Halloween, he acted - well, it was almost as if it were just the normal course of things to be hurt so badly. As if it was normal for him."
Both boys shuddered at the thought. Then, Harry put his head down on his arms and his muffled, exasperated voice muttered:
"She couldn't have married Remus or Flitwick, oh no, it had to be the complicated one. The nasty one. 'Bastard Snape.' The one who hates us and positively loves making our lives miserable," Harry said. "And you know what is worse? I can't believe I'm actually worried about the greasy git. The bastard has me worried about his ass."
"I know," said Ron. "How the hell did he become someone we're supposed to bloody care about? After all this time hating the bat, we're somehow supposed to - like him? After all the shit he's pulled on us?"
Snape smirked and quietly slipped behind the sleepy pair.
"Perhaps, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, if you had spent less time attempting to get yourselves and my wife killed over the past few years - I wouldn't have been forced to follow your escapades so closely," hissed Snape, in his best, threatening voice. Both boys sat straight up in their chairs, wide- eyed. "I believe that most of my punishments were rather - lenient actually, in deference to how the younger version of my wife would feel. Perhaps I should make restitutions now. We could start with the incident in the Shrieking Shack your third year --"
Harry and Ron looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes in terror. Snape, in the meantime, was fighting the urge to laugh.
"You must understand now, children, that I had much to lose if one of your foolish adventures had injured or killed Hermione," he continued, harshly. "And what I would have done to you, had she come to harm."
They continued to sit stock still and stare straight ahead, not wishing to provoke the dark man looming over their heads. Suddenly, a strong hand landed on each shoulder and they heard Snape laughing.
Wait -- Laughing?
"I'm sorry, boys, I could not resist," he said, chuckling and giving each shoulder a short squeeze. Snape walked around the desk to sit in front of them and their mess of research. He looked at them without malice and casually picked up one of their piles of notes. After a moment's uncomfortable silence, Snape spoke again.
"I want to thank both of you," he began, in a quiet voice usually reserved for Hermione. "For taking care of my wife while I was in the Hospital Wing. And for helping her with the potion she created. It has helped me a great deal."
Ron and Harry sat with their mouths open, just staring at Snape.
"Do shut your mouths," Snape said. "You look like a pair of hungry fish staring at me."
They complied out of habit but continued to stare in disbelief.
"Where is Professor Snape and what have you done with him?" Harry lamely joked, once he had found his voice.
Snape smirked.
"Some day, Mr. Potter, you will fall hopelessly in love with some very unlucky girl who I sincerely hope has much patience with your Quidditch obsession," he said with a hint of the old Snape viciousness. Ron fought the urge to snicker as Harry fought the urge to cower. "And let me assure you, that when that ever-so-patient woman appears in your life - you will do anything to make sure she stays."
"And I hope to Merlin that she doesn't disappear for seventeen years like Hermione did," Snape continued. "But if she does leave, I promise you that you will find your inner 'Bastard Potter' in your unhappiness. So, before you joke about the fact that I was slightly unpleasant before Hermione's reappearance in my life, you should consider the reason that I became 'vile Professor Snape.'"
'Slightly unpleasant,' Harry thought, fighting the intense desire to laugh. 'He thinks he was *slightly unpleasant?*'
Ron and Harry exchanged quick, amused glances. And, throwing Gryffindor's chances at winning the House Cup for at least the next decade, they both broke into nervous and relieved laughter. Snape sat watching them with a rather irritated look on his face, but with mirth in his dark eyes.
"Now, where are you in your research," he asked, once they had caught their breath. "Tell me where you are and you may leave, you two look like you need some sleep."
The three men in Hermione's life were bent over Harry's notes on Mandrake juice and the Imperious Curse and talking amiably about the possibilities of its use on the Mark an hour later when Headmaster Dumbledore entered the classroom.
"I do believe that the world will be ending soon," he said, eyes dancing in their usual amused twinkle. "I never thought I would see the three of you enjoying each other's company."
"We are *not* enjoying each other's company," said Harry, in his best Snapelike voice. Ron and Snape exchanged amused glances before Snape rolled his eyes. "We are *working,* Headmaster."
Dumbledore chuckled and joined them, glancing at the notes Harry had handed him.
"Promising, very promising," he said. "Excellent work, Harry. Now, I believe it is time for you two boys to eat and get some sleep. And Severus, I believe your wife is waiting for you in your quarters."
Snape blushed, remembering his earlier plans for his wife when he returned home. Rising, he nodded at the trio who were suddenly looking at him with mischief. He began walking to the door of the classroom, but stopped halfway there to turn in a swirl of billowing robes when he heard three distinct giggles.
He glared until the three fell silent.
"As amusing as it may be that 'vile Professor Snape' suddenly has a sex life," he said, liberal amounts of venom snaking through his words. "I might remind you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley - that the woman I will be making love to tonight is *your* best friend."
Harry and Ron's faces went from mirth to complete disgust in less than a second. Harry's nose wrinkled and he closed his eyes against the mental picture of his professor with his pretty, young friend. Ron visibly turned green and looked like he was seconds away from gagging. It was a vision Snape knew he would treasure and carry to his grave. However, he just couldn't resist one last dig.
"In fact, I seem to recall one very *interesting* evening that involved that particular desk," he sneered. Both students jumped up from their seats as though burned as Dumbledore strained to control his laughter - tears streaming from his eyes. "But, you'll have to ask Hermione about that - I was a bit too - shall we say, tied up to recall much about it?"
And for the third time that month, Ron Weasley passed out. As Harry and Dumbledore set about reviving him, they heard a rather evil chuckle in the hallway as Snape headed to his quarters and his wife.
"Exactly where do you think you are going?" she snapped. "I don't seem to remember telling you that you could leave, Snape."
She stalked to him and smirked at his feeble attempts to yank up his trousers and cover his bare backside.
"Poppy," he began, smoothly. "I am fine. I've lived through the activation of the Dark Mark before. It's just the first time I've been forced to resist the call. I'm fine. Let me go find my wife, now, before she drives herself into exhaustion attempting to cure me, please?"
She shook her head at him but helped him into his clothing. Summoning a tray of sandwiches and leftover Christmas cake, she shoved him backwards onto the bed and ordered him to eat before he left the wing. He complied and munched hungrily while she hovered around him, checking his pulse and waving her wand over his chest and arm - and surprisingly, she gave his hair a quick brushing. He looked at her startled.
"You look like hell, Severus. Stubble, red eyes, pale - at least you could comb your hair for your wife," she said, smugly. "I didn't believe you would think of it before you left."
She paused, trying to decide if it were safe to tease the younger man. He had always been rather serious and mysterious, even in school, she thought. But he used to smile and joke. The man he had grown into was sullen and prone to fits of temper when provoked - but she missed the young man he had been and she couldn't resist the urge.
"I'd brush my teeth before you leave, as well," she said, gesturing to the bath and grinning. "I have no doubt in my mind exactly what you and Hermione will be doing the moment you reappear in the lab, so I think it is my duty to not send you there with dragon's breath. She's nauseous enough as it is, my dear boy."
Snape began to bristle at her cheek and reply with a blazing remark, but thought better of it. 'After all,' he mused. 'She's probably right - both about my breath and about what I'll shortly be doing.' He shifted his robes to cover the embarrassing bulge that had arrived in his trousers at her implications and grinned at her instead.
"Where did you say the toothbrush is, Poppy?"
Some time later, Snape arrived in the potions classroom to find Harry and Ron sitting at their usual desk and pouring over stacks of books - parchment and notebooks scattered on the desk behind them and on the floor. Several smaller cauldrons were bubbling in a corner and ingredients were neatly laid out on yet another work table. Hermione wasn't there; he rather hoped she had gone back to her quarters to sleep. He watched the two seventh-years for some time with curiosity from the doorway; suddenly Harry slammed a large book shut and then tossed it on the stone floor with a frustrated bang.
"We're never going to find anything," he said. "Dammit, why did Hermione have to fall in love with that stupid git. She isn't going to let any of us rest until that Mark is gone, you know that don't you, Ron?"
Ron nodded, blearily trying to focus on the page in front of him.
"Harry, this isn't much fun, but you heard her. She thinks it's her fault he joined up with Voldemort in the first place," he said, closing the massive book and rubbing his eyes. "If anything happens to him, she'll never forgive herself."
"So, as much as it pains us, we have to help *Snape,*" Ron finished. "Brilliant, just bloody brilliant. He makes the mistake and the three of us are paying."
"I think Snape has paid more than we will ever know, Ron," said Harry, contemplatively. "I suspect he has been through a lot in the years he was a spy. When we were both injured at Halloween, he acted - well, it was almost as if it were just the normal course of things to be hurt so badly. As if it was normal for him."
Both boys shuddered at the thought. Then, Harry put his head down on his arms and his muffled, exasperated voice muttered:
"She couldn't have married Remus or Flitwick, oh no, it had to be the complicated one. The nasty one. 'Bastard Snape.' The one who hates us and positively loves making our lives miserable," Harry said. "And you know what is worse? I can't believe I'm actually worried about the greasy git. The bastard has me worried about his ass."
"I know," said Ron. "How the hell did he become someone we're supposed to bloody care about? After all this time hating the bat, we're somehow supposed to - like him? After all the shit he's pulled on us?"
Snape smirked and quietly slipped behind the sleepy pair.
"Perhaps, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, if you had spent less time attempting to get yourselves and my wife killed over the past few years - I wouldn't have been forced to follow your escapades so closely," hissed Snape, in his best, threatening voice. Both boys sat straight up in their chairs, wide- eyed. "I believe that most of my punishments were rather - lenient actually, in deference to how the younger version of my wife would feel. Perhaps I should make restitutions now. We could start with the incident in the Shrieking Shack your third year --"
Harry and Ron looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes in terror. Snape, in the meantime, was fighting the urge to laugh.
"You must understand now, children, that I had much to lose if one of your foolish adventures had injured or killed Hermione," he continued, harshly. "And what I would have done to you, had she come to harm."
They continued to sit stock still and stare straight ahead, not wishing to provoke the dark man looming over their heads. Suddenly, a strong hand landed on each shoulder and they heard Snape laughing.
Wait -- Laughing?
"I'm sorry, boys, I could not resist," he said, chuckling and giving each shoulder a short squeeze. Snape walked around the desk to sit in front of them and their mess of research. He looked at them without malice and casually picked up one of their piles of notes. After a moment's uncomfortable silence, Snape spoke again.
"I want to thank both of you," he began, in a quiet voice usually reserved for Hermione. "For taking care of my wife while I was in the Hospital Wing. And for helping her with the potion she created. It has helped me a great deal."
Ron and Harry sat with their mouths open, just staring at Snape.
"Do shut your mouths," Snape said. "You look like a pair of hungry fish staring at me."
They complied out of habit but continued to stare in disbelief.
"Where is Professor Snape and what have you done with him?" Harry lamely joked, once he had found his voice.
Snape smirked.
"Some day, Mr. Potter, you will fall hopelessly in love with some very unlucky girl who I sincerely hope has much patience with your Quidditch obsession," he said with a hint of the old Snape viciousness. Ron fought the urge to snicker as Harry fought the urge to cower. "And let me assure you, that when that ever-so-patient woman appears in your life - you will do anything to make sure she stays."
"And I hope to Merlin that she doesn't disappear for seventeen years like Hermione did," Snape continued. "But if she does leave, I promise you that you will find your inner 'Bastard Potter' in your unhappiness. So, before you joke about the fact that I was slightly unpleasant before Hermione's reappearance in my life, you should consider the reason that I became 'vile Professor Snape.'"
'Slightly unpleasant,' Harry thought, fighting the intense desire to laugh. 'He thinks he was *slightly unpleasant?*'
Ron and Harry exchanged quick, amused glances. And, throwing Gryffindor's chances at winning the House Cup for at least the next decade, they both broke into nervous and relieved laughter. Snape sat watching them with a rather irritated look on his face, but with mirth in his dark eyes.
"Now, where are you in your research," he asked, once they had caught their breath. "Tell me where you are and you may leave, you two look like you need some sleep."
The three men in Hermione's life were bent over Harry's notes on Mandrake juice and the Imperious Curse and talking amiably about the possibilities of its use on the Mark an hour later when Headmaster Dumbledore entered the classroom.
"I do believe that the world will be ending soon," he said, eyes dancing in their usual amused twinkle. "I never thought I would see the three of you enjoying each other's company."
"We are *not* enjoying each other's company," said Harry, in his best Snapelike voice. Ron and Snape exchanged amused glances before Snape rolled his eyes. "We are *working,* Headmaster."
Dumbledore chuckled and joined them, glancing at the notes Harry had handed him.
"Promising, very promising," he said. "Excellent work, Harry. Now, I believe it is time for you two boys to eat and get some sleep. And Severus, I believe your wife is waiting for you in your quarters."
Snape blushed, remembering his earlier plans for his wife when he returned home. Rising, he nodded at the trio who were suddenly looking at him with mischief. He began walking to the door of the classroom, but stopped halfway there to turn in a swirl of billowing robes when he heard three distinct giggles.
He glared until the three fell silent.
"As amusing as it may be that 'vile Professor Snape' suddenly has a sex life," he said, liberal amounts of venom snaking through his words. "I might remind you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley - that the woman I will be making love to tonight is *your* best friend."
Harry and Ron's faces went from mirth to complete disgust in less than a second. Harry's nose wrinkled and he closed his eyes against the mental picture of his professor with his pretty, young friend. Ron visibly turned green and looked like he was seconds away from gagging. It was a vision Snape knew he would treasure and carry to his grave. However, he just couldn't resist one last dig.
"In fact, I seem to recall one very *interesting* evening that involved that particular desk," he sneered. Both students jumped up from their seats as though burned as Dumbledore strained to control his laughter - tears streaming from his eyes. "But, you'll have to ask Hermione about that - I was a bit too - shall we say, tied up to recall much about it?"
And for the third time that month, Ron Weasley passed out. As Harry and Dumbledore set about reviving him, they heard a rather evil chuckle in the hallway as Snape headed to his quarters and his wife.