Author's note: Hello everyone! A billion apologies for taking so long to write, I have an incredibly hectic competition schedule this month. Sorry! I would just like to address the issue about the Unicorn Blood. Unlike popular belief, unicorns do have the ability to die, when they are either 1. too lonely, or 2. forgotten. The Unicorn Blood that Snape has is obviously not from a unicorn he killed (even though he is harsh and bitter, we all know he has more heart than that) but from a unicorn that has died of "natural" causes. Therefore, because no harm was inflicted on the unicorn, the blood still has healing powers and does not inflict the curse of a half-life on its consumers. Oh, and also, for all of you who are reading Stefynae's "The Journey": don't worry, she hasn't fallen off the face of the planet! She informs me that she has had some technical problems with her computer/internet, but, she has written a new chapter and it should be up by the end of this week. Go read it! That's all for now kiddies! Thanks! Oh, and last question (sorry! I'll be done soon so you can get onto the story) who is the reviewer under the name "Cool-aid Wino" with the email aahhihatehighschool@aol.com? Sorry, I know I'm supposed to know who you are, but I can't remember! A million apologies!
Chapter Thirty-Two: The Weight of Sacrifice
Light momentarily caught in the drop of red liquid on its descent, only to be shattered suddenly by a hand intercepting it. Draco felt himself being pulled back, causing the vial that he held to slip out of his hand, landing on the floor and splintering into a mosaic of glass, tile, and red. A hand spun him around forcefully, shoving him back as he came face to face with the Potions Master. "What are you doing, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape demanded in a low, edgy voice. Draco's heart nearly stopped as he looked the professor in the eye. The professor's face was stricken with intense fatigue and anxiety, causing the aggression and anger that he held back to pour through in the fierce, steely glare he gave the boy. Draco felt himself grow cold, staring at the seething Potions Master in utter terror. "I asked you a question, Malfoy," the professor growled, shifting his gaze suddenly to the shattered vial on the ground. "Who gave you that potion?" he asked, confronting the boy as he tightened the grip on his arm. Draco looked around the room in panic, frantically searching for an escape. "I…" The words caught in his throat as soon as he began speaking them, leaving him staring blankly at the Potions Master. Snape brought his face close to the boy's, narrowing his eyes into a threatening glower. "If you have done any harm to Ms. Slytherin," he hissed in a deadly whisper, "You will find yourself expelled from Hogwarts and I will personally see to it that you are incriminated by wizarding law. Do not think that because–"
"Severus,"
The professor turned to the opened curtain and saw the Headmaster peering curiously down at him. From behind Dumbledore, a warm golden radiance flooded the room, bringing with it the Healing God. Stunned at the presence of the god, relief overwhelmed Snape as he stood, dizzied from amazement, the deep creases in his face softening, allowing tranquility to slowly sweep over him. "Asklepios," he murmured, "Thank goodness you are here." After a moment, he turned back to Draco, saying in a softer, more distant voice, "You are to provide me with an explanation for all of this tonight. Should you choose to not be present in my classroom by nine, you will suffer the dire consequences." The boy nodded feebly, staggering past the three men out of the infirmary, dazed from his confrontation with the Potions Master.
Snape turned his attention to the two before him, his face falling into the rare quiet smile that only appeared on the most particular of occasions. He waved his hand over the broken glass on the ground, uttering "Resarcio", causing the shards to rise off the floor and dance in the air, melding themselves back into the vial that contained the noxious extraction potion. The vial willingly drifted into his hand as the professor closed his fingers around it, tucking it into his robes. The Headmaster frowned as he watched Snape put away the potion. "What is in the vial?"
The Potions Master's eyes grew dark once again as he replied, "An extraction potion meant to inflict harm on the consumer. Tonight, I intend to find the reasons behind Malfoy's possession of this vial." Dumbledore nodded pensively and after a moment, inquired, "How is Natalia's condition?"
The crease on Snape's brow deepened as he looked down to the girl. "She is in a coma and her blood cells have just started to degenerate." Turning to the Healing Master, he added, "I had hoped that you would arrive within the next hour, and incidentally, you have arrived in time."
Asklepios smiled broadly at the professor and chuckled. "Severus, you will learn to never doubt the timing of a god."
Restraining his eyes from moving into a weary roll, Snape nodded and watched as the Healing God went to Natalia's side, grasping the girl's cold colorless hand in his warm golden one. Gradually, her breath settled from its erratic forced gasps to that of one in a deep slumber. Snape observed anxiously as the Healing Master put his left index finger above her heart on her vena cava and his right above her aorta so that both digits were side by side. The blood pumping from her artery infused into his system, the sickly silver of her blood mingling with the aureate gold of his. "What are you doing?" Snape demanded, fearing that he was withdrawing all the blood from her body. Asklepios glanced at the Potions Master and said, "I am cleansing her blood through my own kidneys to restore the newly purified blood back into her body." Both the Headmaster and the Potions Professor stood in awe as they watched the Healing God take the girl's polluted vital fluid into his own body through his right finger, the veins in his arm rapidly turning the pale gray of mercury. With each beat of his heart, the blood carried throughout his body, pouring back through his left arm revitalized once again as the crimson fluid flowed into his left index back into the girl's vena cava. Slowly, the girl's color returned, until soon, all traces of mercury were rid from her body. A small cry of relief escaped from Snape's lips, catching the attention of Dumbledore, at which the Headmaster's face strangely darkened a subtle shade. The thoughts that permeated the old wizard's mind were bleak and dismal as he observed the exhausted Potions Master's reaction to the girl's recovery, secrets hidden in the web of memory locked inside the intellect of the Headmaster. It almost seemed to Dumbledore that Snape's response to Natalia's revival justified all the actions of the past, but he could not be sure, not so soon…
Asklepios slowly lifted his hands from the girl's skin, watching the beat of her heart intently. "She should be fully recovered within a week," he said quietly, slightly weary from the healing process.
"What of her coma?" the Potions Professor inquired, concern flooding his wavering voice.
The Healing Master shook his head and replied in a quiet tone, "I am afraid I have no say in that. To wake her by means of an outside force may cause damage to her brain, and that is a risk we cannot take. One can only hope."
Snape opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. A low hum droned in his head as the weariness of many sleepless nights settled in. His face fell as he realized the severity of the situation, the weight on his thoughts getting more arduous by the minute. As his legs gave out, he collapsed into the chair by her bedside, his expression sinking further into the depths of despair. "You must find a way to recover her," he choked out, "She cannot stay this way, it is not possible…"
Asklepios put a reassuring hand on the professor's shoulder, saying in a soft voice, "Do not worry, Severus. There are other ways of saving the world from the apocalypse."
These words shot through the Potions Master like a current, causing weary irritation to spread rapidly into livid anger as he threw the god's hand off of him, shouting, "That is not all she is! She is not just a tool for your wars – she is a person, a being of worth! She has already lost her entire childhood due to the petty tribulations of the wizarding world and I will not stand by and see the rest of her youth taken away from her because some Death Eater was sent to take her out to balance the power scale! Her life is more precious than that!" Snape's voice became hoarse as he continued, his eyes darkening from open grief, "She has already been condemned by the Shangri-La once. Must every last shred of elation in her life also be taken away by this burden? What has been done to repay her ready sacrifices for this cause? She has willingly given so much of herself already and not one of you has the decency to realize that or award her efforts. Instead, her life, the very marrow of her finest years are torn from her so that you gods can settle the score with each other, so that every damned mistake is corrected through her! Where is the justice in that? Have the eight courts of Shambhala become so disbelieving of the thing that they created that they do not see the pain they inflict on the Bearer? Have you all become so blinded by your speculations and fears of the apocalypse that you cannot see that she is dying from the things you put her through? Have you forgotten that she is JUST a child?" Bitter tears stung Snape's eyes as his voice rang through the infirmary, bringing in an alarmed Madame Pomfrey to see what the matter was. In a furious flurry of robes, the Potions Master swept past the nurse, hurrying angrily to the haven of his chambers. Through the entire length of the professor's admonition, Dumbledore became dismayed as he saw the pain and guilt of past actions break through Snape's veneer, realizing the burden that he had held for all these years.
A tentative knock was placed against the potions classroom door. Snape glanced up resignedly from his letter and quietly said, "Come in." A tall blond Slytherin stepped into the room, standing a safe distance away from the Potions Master's desk. Snape quickly signed the letter with a hasty dash of ink and rolled it back into a scroll, putting it away into one of the drawers of his desk. "Well, Mr. Malfoy," he said, his voice raw and thick, "Intrigue me."
A dozen excuses presented themselves to Draco's mind, but none of them satisfied his tongue. He stared vacantly at the professor, unable to voice his thoughts. Snape sighed and brought a hand to his aching eyes, rubbing them gently as he muttered, "Draco, I am going to be frank with you. I have no doubt that your father had something to do with this, so I suggest you answer my questions truthfully. Who gave you that potion?"
After a long silence, Draco looked to the back of the room and replied in a heavy whisper, "My father."
The Potions Master leaned back in his chair, murmuring, "As I thought." He crossed his arms and observed the boy's demeanor, and seeing that he was in fact remorseful for his actions, added, "Do you know what type of potion it is?"
The blond looked up at his professor, saying, "No, but my father told me it is an–"
"–extraction potion." the Potions Master cut in. "Do you know the effects of this potion?" The look from the boy told Snape that he did not. "This potion," he began, his voice coming in a drained sigh, "Is given to extract substances from blood. The vital ingredient of this potion is a vampire fang, and if taken from a willing vampire, the results are incredibly beneficial. However, if it is extracted from a reluctant vampire, the effects will prove to be most detrimental and almost always result in death."
Draco's breath caught in his throat as he heard the last statement. Snape noticed this and muttered, "I see that your father has obviously given you the potion with the negative trait." The Potions Master let out a heavy sigh and leaned forward, looking the boy very intently in the eye. "Draco, I want you to answer this question very honestly: do you plan on becoming a Death Eater?"
The boy's face hardened at the word. "It is inevitable, professor, that I am expected to be one." he replied, his voice low and grave. Snape considered this for a moment and asked in a soft tone, "And do you wish to be one?"
Draco looked at the professor carefully, wondering if the question was a trap. "How should I answer that, professor?"
The Potions Master frowned and said in a somber voice, "If you believe that I will go and tell your father the answer, you are wrong, Mr. Malfoy. I do not lay my loyalties with those that find benefit in the death of others, and I do not think you do either."
Slowly nodding, Draco replied, "No, I have no desire to support the Dark Wizard's motives."
"Then, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said in a grim voice, "I suggest that you quickly realize what your own motives are and live according to them. Being an agent for the Dark Lord and having morals and emotions at the same time is a very difficult thing to do. More than the fair share of people will die if you are not careful. Now," he continued, "You are not to be in the infirmary again until Ms. Slytherin has fully recovered. And the next time your father requires your services, I suggest you come to me for aid."
"What should I do this time?" Draco asked, rather afraid of his father's reaction.
"If he inquires about her health, tell him that I found you with the potion and destroyed it. That way, he will have to confront me himself. However, I will have to give you at least a month's worth of detention for this act."
The boy nodded slowly, relieved that he would not be expelled and that Snape would deal with his father. "Professor," he said, his voice rather small, "How did you manage?"
Snape looked up at him, his eyes bearing a reserved sorrow that resided deep in his mind. "Very slowly and tediously. Life is the birth of all pain, Draco. Do not ever be disillusioned into hoping for too much. Hope, but do so carefully."
The boy thought about this and slowly got up to leave. As he passed through the door, he heard the Potions Master's voice drift out, saying, "And Draco, do not ever betray those that are dear to you. They will already slip out of your grasp too easily."
A black haze swept over the land, it's shadows covering the dark of the night. The sound of silken wings fluttered past houses, castles, fields, and marshes. Delicate black butterflies drifted into Hogwarts, floating in through windows and opened doors. Each landed on a separate child, all carrying fragile silkworms beneath their bodies. An obsidian butterfly landed quietly on Harry's finger, letting the worm down on his palm. As the boy lay sleeping, the silkworm quickly spun crimson silk into a sheet, weaving golden letters into the page. After the process was done, the sheet was rolled into a scroll and attached to his finger by a thick red silk strand. By dawn, every magical in the world awoke with an invitation attached to their fingers.
The Great Hall rang noisily with the chatter of animated children. Ron and Harry were comparing their invitations, reading the lustrous golden letters to each other. "Master Harry Potter," the green-eyed boy read, "Wizard First Class, Son of James and Lily Potter, Gryffindor House. The Imperial Court of Shambhala cordially requests your presence at the Gala of the Coming Year in honor of the reclamation of the Shangri-La on the thirty-first of December one thousand, nine hundred, and ninety five." Harry turned to Ron, inquiring, "I wonder where it's going to be." The redhead muttered through a mouthful of biscuits, "Mmraybe itsch grring to ber here." The dark haired boy smiled, replying, "That would be wonderful if they had it at Hogwarts. How are they going to fit all those people here though? I heard that every magical in the world is required to attend."
"It obviously isn't going to be held here."
The two boys turned around and saw Hermione rolling her eyes. "Don't you two know anything? It will obviously be in Shambhala. Haven't you ever thought that it would be far more suitable for these purposes?"
Ron frowned, wondering, "How do you think they're going to deal with the Shangri-La though? You know that no one can touch it other than Natalia."
Harry scowled as he heard the girl's name. Giving Ron a pointed look, Hermione turned to Harry, saying, "Harry, there's something Ron and I have to tell you."
The two exchanged an anxious look, perplexing the green-eyed boy. "Remember when Cho was in the infirmary getting her arm bandaged?" Hermione started, "Well, Ron and I happened to wander to the back of the wing, and we found Natalia there."
Worry replaced the frown on Harry's face as he asked, "Is she all right?"
Hermione looked at her friend and paused, trying to organize the words in her head. "Well, you see," she said after a moment, "Madame Pomfrey found us and we were told that she has mercury poisoning. Harry," she looked intently at the boy, "Natalia's very sick. It's very possible that she won't recover."
Harry dropped the fork he was holding, stunned from what he had heard. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, his voice drawn from shock. Hermione quickly looked at Ron, saying, "We didn't want to bother you because you were…well," she waved her hand toward the Ravenclaw table, "Preoccupied."
The boy nodded feebly, staring at his plate deep in thought. "Can we see her?" he asked, unsure of what to say. Ron shook his head. "No, Pomfrey says that no students are allowed. We could…sneak in, though."
Harry looked up, smiling sadly. "Yes, we could…"
The Potions Master gradually awoke as the bright winter sun illuminated his face. He slowly opened his eyes when he could not stand the direct light any longer. As his vision adjusted to the light, he glanced around the room, taking in the shapes of the hospital wing. He had spent yet another long night in the infirmary, working late into the evening as he sat faithfully by the girl's side. He watched as the morning sun crept slowly across her skin, casting a faint pinkish glow on her pale skin. Mesmerized, he beheld the sight of her face basking in the sun. He had never seen an elf before, but he was certain her features held some resemblance to those of the Elven race.
A woman in an elegant collared silk blouse sat at a mahogany table, delicate fingers wrapped around the handle of a porcelain teacup. She set it down with a clink as her bay owl flew in, gently setting a scroll on the table. The woman gingerly picked up the scroll and unrolled it, reading the words on the parchment rapidly.
Greetings Aurelia,
I am writing to inform you of Natalia's health. You must forgive me for not notifying you of this information earlier. A week ago, an accident happened involving Lucius Malfoy and Natalia, causing her to be injured. As you may well know, Lucius' gladius excretes mercury, and during this accident, Natalia was exposed to the poison. The Healing Master, Asklepios, has healed her, but she still remains in a coma state. I apologize once again for not providing you with this information sooner, and I hope that all is well with you.
Sincerely,
Severus SnapeAurelia put the letter down slowly, staring off to a distance in thought. So, she thought, the incompetent Malfoy has completed his task after all. She looked at the letter once again and smiled softly. Funny that Severus should be so formal after so many years of being the most intimate of friends. She slowly rose and wrote a quick note back to the professor, informing him that she would be arriving at Hogwarts in four weeks after her conferences were over. After sending her owl off with the letter, she began another note, this one to an herbal specialist, ordering ingredients for an Awakening Potion. If the girl will not rouse by herself, she thought, I will do so by sheer force.
Weariness weighed down the Potions Master as he roamed the halls, causing children to scamper from him. He had written to Aurelia seven times in the past three weeks, each time urging her to not try anything rash in attempting to wake Natalia. Snape knew her all too well and was aware that she would try any means to revive the girl. Excluding the first one, all his letters had gone unanswered. He had spent every night in the hospital wing, every spare moment he had was exhausted in tireless thoughts of solutions to her condition. He felt it was necessary to be a constant presence for her, lest she wake in the dark and not find a soul around, driving her into disparity. And now, it was once again past supper, at which he had gathered his books, parchments, and quills, heading to the infirmary once more to spend an endless night by her side. As he lay the books down on her nightstand, he went to the back of the wing, gathering two blankets and carefully laying them on the girl, concerned that the winter chill would affect her. He sat down, not knowing what to do with himself for the moment. After a long while of watching the girl's soft breaths, he leaned forward and touched her arm gently, lowering his head to her ear. "Natalia," he whispered, his warm breath prickling her skin, "I know you can hear me, though you may not be aware of it. There is only so much hope in the world, and you are such a vital part of it. I find that…" his voice thickened as he struggled to continue, "There are only so many things that one can grasp onto in life, and you…I do not know what it is. I lack the ability to put into words what I feel, but I find in you a peace, a comfort that is lasting, a sense of being…alive. I doubt a single person goes on without being exposed to this incredible ability you have, of redeeming people from their own guilt. And for this, I thank you, but I beseech you to come back to us. It is one thing to lose one that is so treasured by all, but it is another thing to lose hope completely, to have it torn away from us again and again." He placed a hand on her brow and looked down at her, his heart sinking as he took in her face. "It is not fair," he uttered, "For one so young and capable to be in this state." After a long moment, he removed his hand from her face and slowly picked up a parchment, turning his attention back to his work. Hours passed by as the Potions Master graded paper after paper, the words soon blurring into nonsensical drivel to him. Soon, the parchment that he held fell to his lap as his grasp on the quill loosened, his eyes closing slowly as he fell into a deep slumber.
Shadows drifted in her mind, the sounds of the many tortured souls filling her ears. She could feel the world, feel the ebb and flow of the pains, the sorrows, the joys that its inhabitants experienced. From a distance she heard a voice, a familiar one, speaking softly to her. She could not understand what he said, but felt his anguish and grief so clearly she had to struggle for air as the sensations overwhelmed her. It was as if his soul resided in hers, causing every fiber of her being to cry out in agony. Slowly, he drifted away, leaving her drained and dismayed. She attempted to call out to him, but could not find her voice. Something held her back, ate at her slowly as she wrestled for release. She found his grief once again and reached out for him, the depths of her soul enveloping his. As she melded into his being, she felt a sense of completion, a sense of wholeness. Slowly, the dark recesses of unconsciousness that had gripped her disappeared as she settled deeper and deeper within him, holding on to the sense of security and reassurance she found in him. Gradually, the shadows disappeared, the pain of the world lifting from her. The voices of the tormented spirits dissipated as clarity filled her mind once again, the very essence of living pouring back into the crevices of her soul.
Natalia awoke in the dark of the night, a soft light illuminating from the open infirmary door. Her eyes slowly readjusted as they found their ability to see once again. Little by little, her senses came back to her. She felt the soft material of the blankets and sheets on her skin, smelled the pungent scent of disinfecting potion, and finally, heard the soft deep breaths of a sleeping person next to her. Turning slowly, she moved her aching neck inch by inch to see the silhouette of a tall person by her bedside. As her eyes altered to the darkness, she saw that it was the Potions Master. A smile stretched tentatively on the sore muscles of her face as she realized it was his voice that she had heard, his soul that she had lent to escape from the abyss of her psyche. Slowly extending a wavering hand, she put her quivering fingers on his cheek, gingerly touching his face. The professor awoke with a start, swiftly catching the hand of his intruder. Shock and confusion flooded his eyes as he grasped Natalia's hand, unaware of the tight grip he had on her fingers. After a long moment, he realized that she had come out of her coma, and quietly uttered, "Natalia…"
The girl smiled softly at him, replying in a hoarse voice, "Professor, thank you."
Snape lifted an eyebrow and asked, "For what?" He suddenly realized that he was still holding her hand and let go, apologizing.
"You have saved me," she replied, giving his hand a small squeeze, and then leaning back into the bed. The professor's face spread into a smile of relief as the full impact of her recovery dawned on him. "You…you are awake." he uttered in amazement.
Her smile broadened as she nodded. After a moment, she noticed the gray undertone his skin had acquired and the weary lines that had etched themselves onto his face. Her smile fell into a worried look as she said, "You look incredibly tired, professor."
Snape sat in a daze, murmuring absently, "I do?" He barely knew what she was saying as he was completely engrossed in the miracle of her recovery.
Natalia nodded quietly and said in a raspy voice, "You should try to sleep, professor. How long has it been since you have rested?"
He frowned as he heard her ask the question. There was something wrong with her voice, something that he could not distinguish. Suddenly, he said, "You need some water. You must be parched." He conjured up a glass of water and handed it to her. Thanking him, she drank it and repeated her question. The Potions Master sat down again and thought back. "You have been in this state for four weeks, and I…well, worry was on my mind and sleep evaded me." he said quietly, slightly embarrassed.
Setting the glass on her nightstand, she smiled gratefully at him. "I wanted to thank you, professor, for everything that you did. I do not think…I doubt I would have recovered without your constant presence. I know it is rather strange, but I felt…well, I think we are connected in some way more than we think."
The professor raised a curious eyebrow and asked, "Oh? How so?"
The girl looked him sincerely in the eye and replied, "While I was indisposed, I felt the burdens of the world and heard the voices of the dead. Everything was muddled and unclear. However, in your presence, I felt…comforted. There was almost a sense of justice to everything I felt when you were here, and…I do not know how to explain it, I apologize, but I guess what I am trying to say is, I realized that you are one of the greatest, forgive me for being informal, but one of the few people that genuinely care for my well-being. And I thank you for that."
Snape smiled sadly at her and whispered, "It is the least I could do. I owe that much to your father and…and it redeems me in a way." He put a hand on her hair and said, "Rest now, and I shall have Madame Pomfrey check on you in the morning."
