That and I had school curriculi to cater to. But I am here now!
Before I start the usual routine:
I wish to thank my Beta Melanie, who has betaed everything INCLUDING this chapter. She is truly a remarkable assistance. If only my other colleagues were like that.
As for my reviewers:
Rickman's Girl: Thank you very much. Here's some more!
Kari: Yes, I think there will be no surprises there. Thank you :)
Lady Lunar Phoenix: Hey... I am Slytherin... with loads of work! Of COURSE I will do that when it is not holidays! hehe. But I shall not quit on you all, which is what counts. As for noticing that Harry went to Snape first, I don't know. McGonagall has Dumbledore's office, which is probably quite a bit away as well. But interesting point.
Sevrin: Here's some more. Thank you for your comment :)
Zardiphillian Beryllix: Severus would not be Severus if he didn't get a potion correct...eh heh... *low throaty chuckle* As for Remus, he is sweet, and a dear. *hugs him* And I will write a sequel, if there is something to write. I shall try to leave it open. Ideas would be welcome.
Purple water: why thank you.
Tabitha: Tire of Snape?? Don't you know what happens when you enter in a cooperation with Snape? *L* you don't stop it, he does. So no chance of getting tired, no. But for a sequel, I shall have to have a reason to write it, or Snape will sound like an old man with boring stories to tell. heh.
Now on with the story
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When I wake up, the feel of the bed tells me that I am in the infirmary. Touching my temple, I feel the claw marks gingerly. The memory of the previous day and night comes back to me instantly. Bloody werewolf. I should have bound him magically.
I make myself get up, and focus on that activity. I have found by earlier experience that dwelling on the 'should have' level is extremely bad where psychological well-being is concerned. The new mediwitch of the infirmary is a short, skinny woman that looks like an army officer. She bears down on me like a Valkyrie.
Wherever do you think you are going, Severus? she asks in a squeaky voice. It vaguely reminds me of extremely frightened rats.
About my own business, as should you, Paloma. Now go bother someone else. I sneer at her and use my 'nothing doing' glance on her. She doesn't look fazed. What the problem is with nurses, I shall never understand. They have an abnormal defiance of everyone that is unfortunate enough to be in the premises of their reign.
You are my business, Severus. I shall not have you collapsing in some corrosive potion's cauldron because you have not had enough sleep.
I have had quite a bit of sleep, thank you. I get up, thankful that I am still in my black shirt and trousers. Fortunately the new mediwitch has not thought up Poppy's trick of stripping me down to the barely essentials and hiding my clothes, therefore making it considerably harder to leave her... overeffusive care.
I walk towards the exit, and I catch sight of Lupin, looking emaciated, sleeping in another cot. I stop abruptly, and the fussy matron that was following me almost bumps into me. Turning around, I point to Lupin.
I will send you a special potion for him, when he wakes up. Force it down his throat if you have to, but as soon as it is in his system, do not -dare- not to discharge him and send him to Gryffindor Tower. Did you get all that or do I need to write it in simple words and bright colours?
Paloma goes bright red from anger, ambivalent between hexing me and following my instructions no doubt. I have always indulged in doing this to nurses, ever since my younger years... perhaps as a payback for being so military and fearless. I do want her to opt for obeying me, though, so I play a card that can't lose.
It is imperative to save Potter's life and sanity, Paloma. I am sure you can see the priority.
She bites her lips, frustrated that she has to obey me. I smirk inwardly. Gets them every time. Potter's name is a virtual passkey.
So I go first to my Potions cupboard, and get a stimulant that is strong but unobtrusive with other potions or magic. Then call Winky and I instruct her to take it up to the infirmary and make sure Paloma understands it is for Lupin. I need him strong. I go to close the cupboard, but then hesitate and open it again. Hell, I need myself strong as well. I swallow another vial of the same stuff. Again I go to close the cupboard, and again I hesitate and open it again. I grab another vial and finally do close the cupboard door. Potter could use some extra strength too.
Upon entering the Gryffindor Tower, the heat and medicinal smell that have come to reign the past 3 days hit me like a shockwave. Minerva is sitting at the couch with Harry, who looks considerably ill but definitely not crumbling. Weasley is sitting opposite Harry, playing a game of chess. I see the red-haired boy is desperately trying not to wipe the floor with Potter's behind. The Boy-Who-Lived is useless in strategy, apparently. All three turn to look at me. All hopeful, Minerva a little fearful.
When I approach more and the light from the fireplace and the candles lights my face, the two boys stare at me as if I grew two heads.
Your face, Professor... Harry says as if in a trance. I don't like the hue of his voice. The boy is weak and tormented. Not good for what he will be called to do. But I dare to even so believe in him.
Albus did, so why not I?
It will heal, Potter, so cheer up. You will still be the only one with a scar at the visage.
What I say makes him laugh. Weasley laughs too. It is a nice occurrence, a remark of mine not to be taken the wrong way. But I am under the impression that anything I might have said remotely funny would have set them laughing. They need to laugh so much.
Minerva comes to me.
Has it turned mauve, Minerva?
Yes, Severus. I followed all your instructions. You needn't fret so much. You ordered me to chill the potions and leave them to sit even during your sleep in the infirmary, she says amusedly.
I am tempted to smile, but I don't smile, it is simply not done when there is the possibility of impeding doom just around the corner. So I huff and walk past her to Harry. He watches me, as does Weasley.
How are you feeling?
Pretty good, Professor.
Don't fib to me, Potter.
In that case, bloody sore and sleepy, and dizzy as hell, Professor.
Weasley sighs. I turn to him.
Weasley. Go to the dungeons, but do not, I repeat, do NOT even take a step towards my office. Get the desks out of the way, and light a fire at the fireplace there. Make sure it is as hot as it is in here. When you are done, call us.
The boy nods and goes to do as I say. Rather meekly, I should think. I take his seat opposite Harry and Minerva who has sat at the sofa again. Lily's eyes pierce through me again. In any other time I would have felt at least uneasy and irritable, but this time I am thankful, because they are bright and piercing and not glassy and foggy. Minerva has done an excellent job in preparing the boy and charming fatigue away from him.
It is almost over, Harry, I begin, but before the final stage, I have to teach you a spell.
The countercurse to Anima Vaccus?
No. There is no countercurse to that because it is of the same nature as the killing curse. But I will teach you a shield, and a curse.
That's two spells.
Potter, you are trying my patience, I growl, but Minerva's warning glance checks my speed.
What is the curse, Professor?
It is called Diessolva. It is quite close to being dark, because on living creatures it is irreversible.
For some time Potter hesitates. I think he has some intelligence to realise that the curse is not close to Dark Magic... it -is- Dark Magic. I am afraid that he is going to ask me that, but thankfully, he asks something else.
And what does it do?
It basically causes a high state of entropy in the matter to which you direct it.
I might as well have spoken in Chinese. I click my tongue at the boy's expression. Minerva comes to his rescue.
It makes the molecules of an objects spread radially and equally through all the space, she says gently. Harry thinks on it, then says quietly:
It pulverises.
You could put it that way. Get your wand.
But I am not fighting matter.
Energy is matter, Potter. Even muggles know that. That Einstein almost nailed it.
The boy wordlessly gets his wand out. Minerva leaves to charm the dungeons, as Weasley announces he is done. I nod to myself and take my own wand out as well. I am going to arm the Golden Boy with the deadliest magic I and Lupin can think of for that nebulous son of a bitch.
Point your wand to that cushion. With a jabbing motion, say 'Substantia Dissolva.'
Harry tries the motion first, and I correct him until I tell him it is satisfactory. Then at the first attempt, the boy says it with a steady voice and a quick jab, dissolving half the cushion. I am impressed. He is a fast learner after all. Just not in Potions.
It takes only 5 more tries to get the charm down to perfection. I look at his satisfied expression at success, but also at his chest rising and falling as if panting. I do something I never have done.
Well done, Harry. I'd say 10 points to Gryffindor, but you probably don't care at this time.
Maybe it was not a good idea to tell him. He is staring at me as if the world crumbled around us. But then he smiles softly and says in a voice I strain to hear, Coming from you, Professor, it is a real treat.
And I have seen it all. A too-cheerful voice from the portrait hole. Lupin. He always has to come at the most private of moments. As if Weasley wasn't enough to do that. I turn and glare murder at him. He looks his usual beat up, rough around the corners self. He chuckles at my glare and comes forward, passing a hand through his hair. He peers at me.
Geez, did I do that?
There is no other with nails manicured to a fine point, Lupin, I growl at him, and he looks a little chagrined. Good. I like it when people feel sorry for causing me harm. They usually feel satisfied, or happy.
Make yourself useful, Lupin. Teach Potter the Astral Shield. I will go finish the drafts. When you are done, bring him down and join us.
Of course, Severus, he says in an overdiligent voice, especially intended to spite me. I leave with a growl. Then the thought strikes me that maybe I am growling more than Lupin does, in total per month. That is a really, really disturbing thought.
And it sounds too much like something Albus would say, too. Merlin help me.
When I enter, the Potions classroom looks truly like what it had once been. A dungeon waiting for dramatic things to occur within it, mainly the type involving a lot of torment. I shudder, although the heat in there is similar to that of the tropics. Weasley has moved away all the desks and shrunk them so that they would fit on a stone shelf at the back of the room.
There is a large soft square, like bedding of some sort. I look at Minerva questioningly.
I transfigured it. I expect that one of the three of you will need to use the floor, she says flatly.
I nod and go to the three cauldrons, which by now are a pinky shade. I add Phoenix Tears to the one intended for Harry. Of the last Fawkes shed for me. To the draft for Remus I add Hag Tears and to the one for me I add extract of asphodel. I nod to Weasley and Minerva, and we all stir for a few minutes. My breath catches, mentally counting the seconds... what if they don't shift? what if not all of them shift? what if I made an error? There will be no time to brew it all over again, no more werewolf's blood until a whole month passes... Harry will be dead by then!
One cauldron's contents shift to pearly white. Remus' draft is finally ready, waiting for only one more, catalytic addition. I glance fearfully to the other two. Harry's then shifts to a clear transparency, and I feel I could dance for joy. The reactions so far have been as I hoped, as I had calculated.
Then finally, my draft shifts to a milky white. I swallow. Mine is ready as well. Offhandedly, I think to myself that an article about this would easily land me the title of the Most Brilliant Potions Master of the Century. I could even get a Famous Witches and Wizards card: Severus Snape, Turncoat Death Eater, Discovered the alternative uses of different kinds of tears to the same draft. How marvellous that would be. Just another delusion of grandeur, right up there with the Order of Merlin.
I breathe and cast a freeze spell to the cauldrons. They should not ferment or sit anymore. I realise my back is so sweaty that my shirt is sticking against it. Oddly enough it is the only body part that will sweat at stress or heat. Perhaps because subconsciously I do not wish for any drops to fall from my forehead when brewing, and my organism has taken the message.
I look at Minerva and Weasley.
The drafts are ready. We are all set, and waiting for Professor Lupin with Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley, please go out and charm the door sealed when they arrive. Should everything go well, I will open it when we are done. If not, before opening the door, cast a charm to protect you from the noxious fumes. Do you understand?
The boy nods and swallows. He opens and closes his mouth.
Then why are you trying to imitate a goldfish?
I...uh... sir I'd like to tell you that I... I really...
I don't need this right now. I can't get into that mood.
Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Now kindly shut it and go wait outside, I tell him dryly and he almost yelps and exits. I breathe. Minerva chuckles.
Everything will go well, Severus.
Is that an official prediction, Minerva?
I prefer to call it 'woman's hunch', she says quirkily.
We sit in silence until finally, Harry walks in, helped by Lupin. The door closes and a soft sucking sound tells me Weasley has already sealed it. It has begun. Harry seems to depend on Lupin's guiding hand on his shoulder for balance. But otherwise, the boy is determined, his jaw set. Good.
Bring forward your forearms. Harry, you first.
You'll take my blood?
Not all of it, so don't give me that look.
I am not entirely certain why he is so reluctant to have a few drops taken from his arm, but perhaps a paper thin scar I glimpse as I use the syringe on him has something to do about it. I do not care at this time. I add three drops to Remus' pearly white draft, after I remove the freeze charm, and it hisses, turning orange. Very quickly I add another three of my own, and it turns a bright gold.
Drink Lupin, chop chop. I tell him and he complies, drinking a ladleful.
I then go to mine and add another three drops of Harry's, then three of Lupin's. My draft turns a bright green, and I drink from it quickly as well.
Finally I add three drops of Lupin's and three of mine in Harry's draft, and it turns a bright red. I take the ladle to him, and he looks at me once before drinking it to the last drop. I help the boy lie down. The sleepless potion had not been administered today, and it is almost night again.
Sleep, Potter. And use all your knowledge. We'll be there with you if you need us.
Harry removes his glasses, his eyes already heavy with sleep, both natural and induced by the spirit waiting for him. He looks at Remus and smiles, then at me and smiles some more.
I need to tell you... that if this is the end, I am glad to have known you. Thank you for everything--even being a hopeless git at times, he says, and he falls asleep before I have time to reply to him.
Gods. This cannot be the end. I definitely have to cash in on Potter's sentiments, and I can't do that if he dies. Or... I just really want the brat to make it, so that more little brats with Lily's eyes might walk this earth, and her line not be lost.
I look up at Minerva, whose eyes are glittering.
Okay, cast the activation charm, Minerva. Upkeep it at all costs--and I mean it when I say it.
I turn to Lupin, who is looking at Harry with one of the most tender expressions I have seen on human faces.
He looks at me.
It's all or nothing. And we are all risking our lives. But the best way I can put it, is that I am glad I am risking it along with you.
There is silence for a while as Lupin's eyes seem deeper and far more turbulent. I can't stand a gaze like that for too long; I somehow fold, and say the first thing that comes to mind.
That does NOT mean I like you.
Remus bursts into laughter, and I have to join. It is good to go with laughter, if go we must. Then the charm that activates the potion hits us, and the material world washes away.
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phew. Well, that was long. Late but long. I apologise if you get bored with it... but wow! It is more than twice as the usual stuff, and it's not even Christmas!
Oh and, the next chapter is the ... *drumroll, deep scary voice* final one.
Now, I expect double the reward I usually get. So go on, push that button and make my day. Please. *pause* Pretty please? *pause* SEVERUUUUUS! MAKE THEM! *whiny voice*
.... and while you are at it, please tell me *grins cutely*WHAT RNRNRN MEANS! *grins cutely*
okay, that was really batty. Heh. Till next time, folks.