Chapter Eight

… What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes.

//Harry!//

Harry jerked abruptly into wakefulness as his name resounded in his head. The amount of sheer pain and desperation in that fear-filled mental cry left him in no doubt that it was real.

He'd been in the middle of the strangest dream, he realised vaguely as he half sat up in his bed. He was breathing as hard as if he'd been running for his life for the last hour or more, the sound far too loud in the otherwise silent dormitory. He could feel his heart pounding frantically, the pulse of his blood throbbing in his ears, adding its own contribution to the noise that seemed to surround him all of a sudden.

Momentarily disoriented by the unexpected awakening, he looked around him as if he would find the answer to what had woken him in the soft darkness enclosed by the bed's curtains. He shook his head slightly, hoping that the action would help to clear it somewhat. Jumbled recollections flooded him as he slowly came back to himself, memories of what he had just dreamed. A dream filled with terrifying, horrifying images; all about Snape and fear and pain and regret and death and still more pain.

Only, he realised, prompted by some instinct, it hadn't been a dream at all. He was suddenly fully awake, sleep-bleariness banished by the understanding of the vision.

It had been real, and he'd been lying there, sleeping, while the man he… while Severus had been… been… he couldn't seem to make himself even think the word. While Harry had still been in the dream it hadn't felt as immediate to him as the last time, when he had been awake to feel what was done as if he had been the intended victim. He had been somehow more distant this time, and so it had taken a while to hit him.

Yet, despite the distance, he had the feeling, wholly backed up by what he had seen, that what he had just observed had been by far the worse of the two, at least for Severus. Harry hadn't thought that was even possible, had naively imagined that what he had vicariously experienced the previous time had been the worst Voldemort would do to a man accepted as one of his own, loyal, followers.

Apparently, 'worse' was all too possible, as he now appreciated. He felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought that the terrifying, disturbing images in the dream had been real. That they had just happened. Happened to Severus, and been done by him.

That he had… and then been… It was almost more than Harry could bring himself to understand at the moment.

What did he think he was doing? He interrupted his own reverie, suddenly aghast at his reaction to his realisation of the dream's reality. Severus was about to… to die, probably, if what Harry had felt in the dream was any indication. And meanwhile, he was sitting here woolgathering as if he had all the time in the world to think about it.

Not now, idiot boy! Sort the rest out once you've got him out of there! The irate voice in his head sounded strangely like Severus, but its command didn't help him figure out just how he was going to help the man. He racked his brains frantically, trying to think of something, any possibility at all that offered him some chance. He came up completely blank, and the knowledge that Severus' time was running out didn't help matters at all.

//What can I do?// he called out, half-despairing, into the echoing silence of his mind. The silence that he had craved, that he had just yesterday thought was the only thing he truly needed, now seemed terrifying in its implication. He promised himself that if this somehow turned out okay, he'd make sure that he and Severus at least started talking again. At least that way, he'd have some warning when the man was about to go off and try to get himself killed.

What was there to do? There was no way he could go to Severus. There was nothing he could do there, even if he knew where 'there' was and could get there. Severus wasn't in any shape to give him directions. There certainly wasn't anything Harry could do from here. Was there?

As if the thought was a trigger, he felt a strange pulling sensation near his navel. It was, he realised, the same place he'd felt the bond when it had activated nine months ago. Which meant…

In a moment of intuition, realisation of what was about to happen hit him. He had just enough time to hurriedly move slightly to one side before Severus materialised where Harry had been sitting a bare moment ago. He grabbed his wand and put up a hasty silencing charm before turning his attention to the unexpected arrival.

The man was more than half-naked, what was left of his clothes barely more than rags. He was covered in a variety of visible injuries that Harry tried not to look too closely at, and clearly harbouring many less obvious ones. A part of Harry's mind threw up its arms in horror and started running around in panicked circles at the thought of internal injuries. The rest of him was too busy being thankful that Severus was, at least, still alive. Barely.

Harry was profusely grateful for his silencing charm within seconds as the man groaned loudly and slowly cracked one eye open. He flinched and stared at Harry in near terror for a minute, before he finally whispered his name in a tone of combined revelation and abject relief.

Then he closed his eyes and was still. Harry felt a moment of near-complete panic. He couldn't be… Just couldn't…

Harry grabbed control of himself again and gave himself a hard mental shake. He could hear Severus' breath, a laboured rasping under the frantic pounding of his own blood in his ears, so the man hadn't died on him yet. But there was no time, and far too much to do, to waste any of it in panic. He tried to figure out what he should do next.

Switching his wand nervously from hand to hand, Harry ran through his scant knowledge of first aid. He supposed that a standard check of pulse and breathing would be the best thing to do. The checks did reassure him that the man was still alive, but it was clear even to someone as untrained as he was that Severus' vital signs were not normal, or healthy. He had to get him medical attention, and now, because there was very little he could do. His rudimentary knowledge of healing charms wouldn't be much help in so serious a situation, although they could at least help to stabilise Severus slightly, he hoped.

He only allowed himself the briefest moment of indecision before letting go of the silencing charm and casting the strongest healing charm he knew in its stead. He couldn't call Madam Pomfrey here, it would cause too much of a stir, and Severus would not be happy about it when he found out. Besides, Harry had no idea what things she would need to deal with it. So calling her here would probably just waste time in the end. All of which meant that he needed to get Severus to the hospital wing, and soon.

He couldn't do it alone. There was only really one thing to do, and if Severus was pissed off about it, well, it couldn't really make the situation between them any worse, now, could it? And, Harry assured himself, it was certainly better than waking the whole dormitory.

His decision made, he pushed his bed-curtain aside just enough to slip out, and padded over to Ron's bed.

"Ron," he whispered urgently. "Wake up. I need your help."

***

Ron somehow managed to suppress his intense natural curiosity enough that he didn't ask any questions when he saw the half-dead man lying in his friend's bed. He didn't even say anything when he saw the man's face, although he looked still more bewildered when he recognised him as Professor Snape. Immediately understanding the severity of the situation, he agreed to help Harry without superfluous conversation. The look on his face, though, said clearly that he would be demanding an explanation as soon as the man was safe, and would not be taking no for an answer.

Right then, Harry couldn't bring himself to care very much, not with all the other problems demanding his attention. Severus could do the explaining when he was better, and if he…

He cut himself off right there. There wasn't any point at all in thinking that way, and besides with this bond, you never knew what effect thoughts might have. He'd just been very forcefully reminded of that, and it wasn't a risk he could afford to take. Not now, when Severus' position was so obviously delicate. He reminded himself to keep thinking positive thoughts, as hard as it was when faced with the man's injuries.

Ron, who had proved to be slightly more adept at healing charms than Harry, took charge of that aspect. This left Harry free to cast the charms that would allow them to move Severus without jolting him too much – necessary because, as Ron reminded him, with the marks he bore there was simply no way that he had managed to escape without internal injuries. On several occasions as they moved the man, both of them had to restrain their expressions of shock for fear of waking him when they realised anew the extent of what had been done to him. It was an insight into the Death Eaters, as victims as well as torturers, that would stay with them for a very long time.

Somehow Harry and Ron managed to move the man to the hospital wing without waking up any of their house-mates or encountering anyone else on the way who might have delayed them. There was one close call with Mrs Norris, but they managed to evade Filch by the skin of their teeth. Thankfully, the man didn't regain consciousness during that nightmarish trip. It seemed hours long to Harry, as he struggled to maintain his concentration as evenly as possible, trying not to aggravate Severus' injuries.

Harry knocked tentatively on the door to the hospital wing. It took a few moments for Madam Pomfrey to answer the door, moments when he nearly panicked. What if she wasn't there? What if there'd been some other emergency in the school she'd had to deal with? What would he do then? Would the Headmaster be able to help? What if…

Fortunately for Harry's sanity, those questions were rendered moot when the matron opened the door, still clearly half-asleep and bemused. She took in the tableau the three of them made in a moment, snapping awake almost instantaneously. She guided them to the nearest unoccupied bed, and Harry lowered Severus onto it under her directions.

Madam Pomfrey quickly cast a powerful healing charm of her own, allowing Ron to relinquish his hold on the one he'd been casting. Ron breathed a sigh of relief as she bustled away to collect her equipment and potions. Harry collapsed into the chair next to the bed, completely forgetting the presence of his friend. Absently he reached for his bond-mate's hand, wishing that he could somehow perform an energy transfer as he had the last time he had felt Severus being hurt by Voldemort.

Of course, he had no way of knowing if that would help at all, or merely make the situation worse. Surely this kind of circumstance was what his mother had engineered the bond for? Then why wasn't it helping him? Why was nothing happening?

"Harry," the worried voice jolted him out of his reverie. "Why are you…" Ron gave a significant glance to Harry's hands, clasped around Severus' more tightly than he'd realised.

"I… I'll tell you tomorrow. Or later today, I suppose." Harry bit back a completely incongruous laugh, relaxing his grip slightly. "I just… it's a long story, and I'd rather not tell it more than once, and Hermione really ought to know too." He gave a sigh of his own.

Ron looked even more puzzled and curious, but just nodded. "Are you coming back to the tower now?"

"Uh… no, I'll just stay here for a while. See if he's going to be OK." Harry gave Ron an apologetic look, hoping that his friend would just let it go for the moment. He didn't need to be coping with problems from him as well.

"Right. I'll… I'll see you later on, then?"

"Sure." Harry smiled half-heartedly and turned his attention back to Severus. He barely noticed Ron slipping quietly out.

"What are we going to do?" Harry said quietly to the unconscious man before him. "What can I do?" Images of his not-quite-dream kept flooding back now that the situation wasn't quite so urgent, but he fought them away. He could figure all that out later – what he'd seen, what it meant, and all the rest of it. For now he knew with an instinct he didn't question that he needed to have faith in Severus if the bond was to help at all.

Madam Pomfrey returned after a few minutes, and Harry quickly dropped his hands from Severus'. He hoped that he'd managed to do so before she caught sight of it, but it was only a small issue compared to the others.

"Is he going to be OK?" he asked before the matron could question his continued presence at the man's bedside.

"I hope so, Harry," she said kindly as she began to perform incomprehensible actions with the array of arcane items on her tray, "but I really don't know. Can you call the Headmaster for me, please?" She indicated the fireplace and the communication powder on the mantelpiece.

Once Harry had informed him of the situation, of course leaving out all of the really important details, Dumbledore said that he'd be down instantly. The conversation took a good few minutes and by the time he had finished, Madam Pomfrey was clearing up. Harry wondered vaguely if her request had merely been a tactic to get rid of him for a bit, or if she really needed the Headmaster down there.

"Are you… are you finished?" Is that all you can do for him? he asked, not sure which answer he wanted.

"Yes. Everything else is up to him now. He should be fine, just with a few more scars to add to his collection." The woman smiled wryly at him, and Harry had the distinct sense that she smiled because the only other option would be to cry. He felt rather the same way himself.

"Oh. Do you… do you mind if I stay here?"

She gave him an extremely curious look at the unexpected request, but shook her head kindly. "No. It's almost morning anyway; I don't see that it will do any harm. If the Headmaster says you have to go when he arrives, though, you must."

Harry nodded and sat down next to the bed once more, taking Severus' hand between his again. Madam Pomfrey smiled benevolently at him. She had not expected so much concern from Harry for such a disliked teacher, but she was glad to see it. As she turned away, she almost thought she saw a faint glow of light sparking fitfully where their hands touched. However, she had a great many other things to worry about, and dismissed it as an unnecessary distraction. She was very tired, and hallucinations were definitely a sign that she needed to get some rest.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said, as she walked into her office, where there was a small bed ready for nights like these.

Harry fell asleep again within minutes after she had left, his head falling to rest on the mattress, beside their still joined hands. Just before he succumbed to the siren call of sleep, indescribably tempting after the difficult night he'd had, he thought he felt Severus' faint 'presence' grow stronger, and he smiled. It would be all right.

//It will be all right, Harry.//