Is There No Sanctuary?
By Barbara Kennedy
This is a very short vignette, my very first fan fiction by the way.
It is a short story of a possible behind-the-scene happening with
Professor Severus Snape very late one night, near the end of Goblet of
Fire, after the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Author's Note: I've decided to draw out this story to three chapters,
this is the last one. It is also slowly been revised as I looked it
over before posting it here, so we'll just see what we wind up with at
the end. I just can't seem to leave the story alone. Poor Snape!
See replies to last chapter's reviews at the bottom of this chapter.
New reviews are always nice [hint, hint].
DISCLAIMER: As usual, none of these characters are mine. I've just
borrowed them from J. K. Rowling, with many thanks.
*.* indicates stressed word or phrase.
Chapter 3 - Too stubborn for your own good.
________________________________________________
"Well then, before you leave, Severus, I insist that you let me take
one more look at you to see if you are over the shock. The Pepper-Up
Potion should have done its work by now."
"Madam Pomfrey, I have absolutely no wish to be poked and prodded any
further. Simply let me leave.." Snape started to stand.
"Shut up and sit still!" Poppy gave a small push to the center of his
chest and he was so surprised, he did just that. He wondered why she
was loosing her temper with him so easily. She was normally very
calm. Perhaps she was overwrought because of recent events?
She took hold of his right wrist to check his pulse with one hand
while she looked at his face. He tried to avoid her touch but she gave
him a stern glance and brushed his cheek with the curled fingers of
her other hand anyway.
"Ah, good, your pulse is much stronger. Your color is a bit better
and you don't feel clammy now. You were in very poor condition when I
first saw you there, lying on the floor earlier. Why you insisted on
waiting for most of the day to get back here and have something done
about it, I'll never understand."
Snape interrupted, quite annoyed, "I had very good reasons why I could
not simply drop what I was doing and return to Hogwarts because of a
few twinges.."
"*A few twinges!* Is that what you call it?"
Her voice rose slightly as she dropped his wrist, then, remembering
she had patients asleep a few beds away, she lowered her tone. She
stood directly in front of him and shook her finger right at his
prominent nose.
"Professor Severus Snape, you are far too stubborn and proud for your
own good!"
He looked somewhat surprised to find himself leaning back from her as
she continued. He almost appeared cross-eyed for a moment, looking at
her finger moving so near to his face.
"You have absolutely no *idea* what I'm talking about, do you? You
are your own worst enemy sometimes, Severus. If you had been hit with
many more charms like that last one, your arm could have been too
damaged to save! At the very least you could have been *crippled*.
Even with potions and healing magic I can repair only so much
untreated damage. You are aware of that, aren't you, or do you need
proof? Then, just take a good look at Mr. Alastor Moody there. He is
as bad as you are at deciding how serious his wounds may be and
whether or not they need immediate treatment."
Snape was horrified at the thought that he could have lost his arm
from the damage he thought so trivial earlier in the day. It was
little more than an inconvenience at first, a painful inconvenience,
but one he thought he could handle.
"Oh, yes Severus," she continued, "I've seen you flexing your fingers
when you think I'm not looking, trying to be sure they work. Are they
a still a bit numb too?"
Poppy grasped his left hand before he could answer and manipulated his
fingers and wrist, testing the responses of his muscles, tendons and
reflexes.
"I did notice you had no problems with dressing yourself, though, so
I'd say they work. I'll wager that your arm still aches quite a bit,
even now, but of course *you're* not going to tell me. I'm *only the
trained healer*!" She released her grip on his hand then. Her voice
was beginning to rise again so she stopped and took a calming breath
while watching Snape stare at his arm as if seeing it for the first
time.
Snape held his hand out again. "No, they are not numb..not anymore."
He flexed the long, slender fingers of his left hand and then rubbed
each fingertip quickly with his thumb.
"Although," he twisted his lips into a wry grimace, avoiding her
direct gaze, "I will admit that they were tingling badly and felt weak
and stiff before the last attack hit me. I had no idea the damage was
that severe, although I will admit it did hurt..well, quite a bit."
Snape whispered the last part reluctantly.
Madame Pomfrey looked very grim. "Severus, the damage you suffered
possibly went all the way to the bones as a result of those charms,
not just at the surface as a burn from fire would. Your arm was hot,
but your hand was ice cold and your nails were blue on that hand. That
told me that your circulation was already failing and there might have
been nerve damage as well and the muscles and tendons in your arm were
drawing up from the heat. That is why I left your arm soaking in the
healing potion for twice as long as usual. I had also added more than
usual to the pan. You came very close to losing the use of your left
hand tonight because *you wouldn't seek help* or even *admit* you
needed it. I didn't want to tell Professor Dumbledore how bad it was
unless the treatment didn't work. He has enough to worry about right
now."
The horrified look on Snape's face was not a surprise to Madam
Pomfrey. He was the Potions Master. His work depended on the dexterity
of his hands as much as the knowledge stored in his brilliant mind.
"Th..that.. must have been the whole intention of the Dark Lord's
attack today." He whispered. "Not just to make me suffer, but to
cripple me as well." He clenched his left hand into a tight fist.
"He makes it painfully clear that I have no sanctuary where I cannot
be touched in some way. It is also a clear warning that he intends to
kill me."
Snape paused, clearly considering his own words for a time before he
again looked into Madam Pomfrey's face. A new look of purpose and
determination was growing in his tired black eyes.
Poppy noted just how worn and haunted his eyes looked, like deep cold
water mirroring a starless night. It made him look much older than he
really was.
"However, this does not come as news to me. I have long accepted that
he would probably seek to kill me if he ever returned. I do not seek
his forgiveness, even more, I do not want it."
He snapped suddenly out of his reverie and his habitual scowl masked
his face again.
"Are you through with your examination now, Madam?" He looked
challengingly into her face once more. She noted his mask was in place
once again. "If you are, I will go now, as it is late and I daresay
you need your rest as well."
He stood quickly and swayed on his feet slightly before regaining his
balance.
Madam Pomfrey simply stood in front of him without a word for half a
minute, mutely challenging him to walk through her. She stood at the
edge of the protective circle Dumbledore had cast.
"Oh, all right! Very well, Severus, but I insist that you return or
send for me the moment you feel any more effects like that." She
pointed to his bandaged arm. "I don't care what time it is either!
Dumbledore would never forgive me if anything drastic happened to his
Potions Master."
"Of course, Madam Pomfrey, I promise you will know at the earliest
*twinge*." He gave her a small stiff bow and swept past her. "Thank
you for your kind ministrations and goodnight."
Snape was hardly out the door of the hospital wing before he was hit
with an impulse he couldn't fight. His face contorted and his eyes
watered with the effort of fighting it.
He yawned.
It was such an intense and overpowering yawn that he couldn't see for
a moment. It left him almost breathless and, surprised at its
intensity, wondering if it was another attack. He stood leaning
against the wall for a moment, shaking his head.
He knew it wasn't another attack, though.
He was tired.
No, he was beyond tired.
He was exhausted.
He was almost desperately in need of sleep. Apparently any
invigorating effects he had from the Pepper-up Potion were rapidly
wearing off.
He took another deep breath and continued steadily to his own quarters
near his classroom in the dungeon and not far from the Slytherin
dorms.
He thankfully did not meet Filch or any of the School Prefects he knew
to be patrolling the dark hallways of the castle even at this early
morning hour. It must be nearly 3 AM. He was especially thankful that
he saw no sign of that blasted nuisance, Peeves the Poltergeist. He
had no patience to deal with any of them now.
He arrived before his door after carefully navigating the long
stairway down into the dungeons, yawning a few more times as he
descended, gripping the wall for support. He brought out his wand and
removed the enchantments and wards he always placed on his door to
insure no one could gain access to his private domain but him [and the
house-elves who seemed immune to wizard locks despite many efforts on
his part].
Even this simple task seemed to drain his energy. He entered and
replaced the wards on the locked door. He was not surprised to find
the fireplace lit and a candle burning on his private worktable next
to the cauldron gently simmering over a magical flame in the center of
the table. Though hardly able to keep his eyes open, he took a moment
to stir the potion and check its progress, adding more ingredients
from small jars at the end of the table.
He passed from his study back to his bedroom while removing his cloak
and throwing it over the back of a chair near his bed instead of
hanging it as he normally would. His frockcoat and shirt soon joined
them. As he sat on the chair to remove his shoes, he stared at his
bandaged arm again, remembering Madam Pomfrey's news that he had been
lucky tonight and not lost the use of his hand. His gaze shifted to an
item many might have been surprised to know he possessed, a
beautifully crafted harp which stood in a curtained-off corner of his
most private chambers. It had been his mother's harp.
It had been a long time since he had been able to bring himself to
play, but he felt the need to at least touch the strings, if only to
reassure himself that he could.
As he caressed the strings, an amazing transfiguration seemed to
spread across his features. His face relaxed and the habitual scowl
disappeared to be replaced with a peaceful and sad expression as he
played a short piece his mother had loved, his fingers sure and fluid
on the strings.
He finished and sat with head bowed for a moment, he then arose from
the harp and finished preparing for bed. He was now so sleepy he
didn't bother pulling on his grey night shirt, but simply fell into
the bed in his Slytherin-green-and-silver paisley boxer shorts and
pulled the covers over his shoulders. He was asleep in less than a
minute.
As a testament to his exhaustion or the influence of the music, his
sleep was undisturbed for the first time in ages.
He left the castle early the next day to continue his secret work for
Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. No one else was even aware
that he had been there.
THE END
[A/N - After I saw the movie "Truly, Madly, Deeply" I wished that I
had made the musical instrument in the story a cello.]
To all my reviewers:
SalemsCat, Dragongirl19, Andragol, bluebird161221 and Snapefan51
Thank you so much for reading my story and taking the time to review.
It means a lot to me.
To anyone who read the story but didn't review, shame on you [lol].
Reviews keep the plot bunnies alive.
I'll be writing another story soon. In the meantime check out
"Learning To Live Again". I'll be working on that one for quite a long
time.
Thank you all.
Barbara Kennedy
By Barbara Kennedy
This is a very short vignette, my very first fan fiction by the way.
It is a short story of a possible behind-the-scene happening with
Professor Severus Snape very late one night, near the end of Goblet of
Fire, after the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Author's Note: I've decided to draw out this story to three chapters,
this is the last one. It is also slowly been revised as I looked it
over before posting it here, so we'll just see what we wind up with at
the end. I just can't seem to leave the story alone. Poor Snape!
See replies to last chapter's reviews at the bottom of this chapter.
New reviews are always nice [hint, hint].
DISCLAIMER: As usual, none of these characters are mine. I've just
borrowed them from J. K. Rowling, with many thanks.
*.* indicates stressed word or phrase.
Chapter 3 - Too stubborn for your own good.
________________________________________________
"Well then, before you leave, Severus, I insist that you let me take
one more look at you to see if you are over the shock. The Pepper-Up
Potion should have done its work by now."
"Madam Pomfrey, I have absolutely no wish to be poked and prodded any
further. Simply let me leave.." Snape started to stand.
"Shut up and sit still!" Poppy gave a small push to the center of his
chest and he was so surprised, he did just that. He wondered why she
was loosing her temper with him so easily. She was normally very
calm. Perhaps she was overwrought because of recent events?
She took hold of his right wrist to check his pulse with one hand
while she looked at his face. He tried to avoid her touch but she gave
him a stern glance and brushed his cheek with the curled fingers of
her other hand anyway.
"Ah, good, your pulse is much stronger. Your color is a bit better
and you don't feel clammy now. You were in very poor condition when I
first saw you there, lying on the floor earlier. Why you insisted on
waiting for most of the day to get back here and have something done
about it, I'll never understand."
Snape interrupted, quite annoyed, "I had very good reasons why I could
not simply drop what I was doing and return to Hogwarts because of a
few twinges.."
"*A few twinges!* Is that what you call it?"
Her voice rose slightly as she dropped his wrist, then, remembering
she had patients asleep a few beds away, she lowered her tone. She
stood directly in front of him and shook her finger right at his
prominent nose.
"Professor Severus Snape, you are far too stubborn and proud for your
own good!"
He looked somewhat surprised to find himself leaning back from her as
she continued. He almost appeared cross-eyed for a moment, looking at
her finger moving so near to his face.
"You have absolutely no *idea* what I'm talking about, do you? You
are your own worst enemy sometimes, Severus. If you had been hit with
many more charms like that last one, your arm could have been too
damaged to save! At the very least you could have been *crippled*.
Even with potions and healing magic I can repair only so much
untreated damage. You are aware of that, aren't you, or do you need
proof? Then, just take a good look at Mr. Alastor Moody there. He is
as bad as you are at deciding how serious his wounds may be and
whether or not they need immediate treatment."
Snape was horrified at the thought that he could have lost his arm
from the damage he thought so trivial earlier in the day. It was
little more than an inconvenience at first, a painful inconvenience,
but one he thought he could handle.
"Oh, yes Severus," she continued, "I've seen you flexing your fingers
when you think I'm not looking, trying to be sure they work. Are they
a still a bit numb too?"
Poppy grasped his left hand before he could answer and manipulated his
fingers and wrist, testing the responses of his muscles, tendons and
reflexes.
"I did notice you had no problems with dressing yourself, though, so
I'd say they work. I'll wager that your arm still aches quite a bit,
even now, but of course *you're* not going to tell me. I'm *only the
trained healer*!" She released her grip on his hand then. Her voice
was beginning to rise again so she stopped and took a calming breath
while watching Snape stare at his arm as if seeing it for the first
time.
Snape held his hand out again. "No, they are not numb..not anymore."
He flexed the long, slender fingers of his left hand and then rubbed
each fingertip quickly with his thumb.
"Although," he twisted his lips into a wry grimace, avoiding her
direct gaze, "I will admit that they were tingling badly and felt weak
and stiff before the last attack hit me. I had no idea the damage was
that severe, although I will admit it did hurt..well, quite a bit."
Snape whispered the last part reluctantly.
Madame Pomfrey looked very grim. "Severus, the damage you suffered
possibly went all the way to the bones as a result of those charms,
not just at the surface as a burn from fire would. Your arm was hot,
but your hand was ice cold and your nails were blue on that hand. That
told me that your circulation was already failing and there might have
been nerve damage as well and the muscles and tendons in your arm were
drawing up from the heat. That is why I left your arm soaking in the
healing potion for twice as long as usual. I had also added more than
usual to the pan. You came very close to losing the use of your left
hand tonight because *you wouldn't seek help* or even *admit* you
needed it. I didn't want to tell Professor Dumbledore how bad it was
unless the treatment didn't work. He has enough to worry about right
now."
The horrified look on Snape's face was not a surprise to Madam
Pomfrey. He was the Potions Master. His work depended on the dexterity
of his hands as much as the knowledge stored in his brilliant mind.
"Th..that.. must have been the whole intention of the Dark Lord's
attack today." He whispered. "Not just to make me suffer, but to
cripple me as well." He clenched his left hand into a tight fist.
"He makes it painfully clear that I have no sanctuary where I cannot
be touched in some way. It is also a clear warning that he intends to
kill me."
Snape paused, clearly considering his own words for a time before he
again looked into Madam Pomfrey's face. A new look of purpose and
determination was growing in his tired black eyes.
Poppy noted just how worn and haunted his eyes looked, like deep cold
water mirroring a starless night. It made him look much older than he
really was.
"However, this does not come as news to me. I have long accepted that
he would probably seek to kill me if he ever returned. I do not seek
his forgiveness, even more, I do not want it."
He snapped suddenly out of his reverie and his habitual scowl masked
his face again.
"Are you through with your examination now, Madam?" He looked
challengingly into her face once more. She noted his mask was in place
once again. "If you are, I will go now, as it is late and I daresay
you need your rest as well."
He stood quickly and swayed on his feet slightly before regaining his
balance.
Madam Pomfrey simply stood in front of him without a word for half a
minute, mutely challenging him to walk through her. She stood at the
edge of the protective circle Dumbledore had cast.
"Oh, all right! Very well, Severus, but I insist that you return or
send for me the moment you feel any more effects like that." She
pointed to his bandaged arm. "I don't care what time it is either!
Dumbledore would never forgive me if anything drastic happened to his
Potions Master."
"Of course, Madam Pomfrey, I promise you will know at the earliest
*twinge*." He gave her a small stiff bow and swept past her. "Thank
you for your kind ministrations and goodnight."
Snape was hardly out the door of the hospital wing before he was hit
with an impulse he couldn't fight. His face contorted and his eyes
watered with the effort of fighting it.
He yawned.
It was such an intense and overpowering yawn that he couldn't see for
a moment. It left him almost breathless and, surprised at its
intensity, wondering if it was another attack. He stood leaning
against the wall for a moment, shaking his head.
He knew it wasn't another attack, though.
He was tired.
No, he was beyond tired.
He was exhausted.
He was almost desperately in need of sleep. Apparently any
invigorating effects he had from the Pepper-up Potion were rapidly
wearing off.
He took another deep breath and continued steadily to his own quarters
near his classroom in the dungeon and not far from the Slytherin
dorms.
He thankfully did not meet Filch or any of the School Prefects he knew
to be patrolling the dark hallways of the castle even at this early
morning hour. It must be nearly 3 AM. He was especially thankful that
he saw no sign of that blasted nuisance, Peeves the Poltergeist. He
had no patience to deal with any of them now.
He arrived before his door after carefully navigating the long
stairway down into the dungeons, yawning a few more times as he
descended, gripping the wall for support. He brought out his wand and
removed the enchantments and wards he always placed on his door to
insure no one could gain access to his private domain but him [and the
house-elves who seemed immune to wizard locks despite many efforts on
his part].
Even this simple task seemed to drain his energy. He entered and
replaced the wards on the locked door. He was not surprised to find
the fireplace lit and a candle burning on his private worktable next
to the cauldron gently simmering over a magical flame in the center of
the table. Though hardly able to keep his eyes open, he took a moment
to stir the potion and check its progress, adding more ingredients
from small jars at the end of the table.
He passed from his study back to his bedroom while removing his cloak
and throwing it over the back of a chair near his bed instead of
hanging it as he normally would. His frockcoat and shirt soon joined
them. As he sat on the chair to remove his shoes, he stared at his
bandaged arm again, remembering Madam Pomfrey's news that he had been
lucky tonight and not lost the use of his hand. His gaze shifted to an
item many might have been surprised to know he possessed, a
beautifully crafted harp which stood in a curtained-off corner of his
most private chambers. It had been his mother's harp.
It had been a long time since he had been able to bring himself to
play, but he felt the need to at least touch the strings, if only to
reassure himself that he could.
As he caressed the strings, an amazing transfiguration seemed to
spread across his features. His face relaxed and the habitual scowl
disappeared to be replaced with a peaceful and sad expression as he
played a short piece his mother had loved, his fingers sure and fluid
on the strings.
He finished and sat with head bowed for a moment, he then arose from
the harp and finished preparing for bed. He was now so sleepy he
didn't bother pulling on his grey night shirt, but simply fell into
the bed in his Slytherin-green-and-silver paisley boxer shorts and
pulled the covers over his shoulders. He was asleep in less than a
minute.
As a testament to his exhaustion or the influence of the music, his
sleep was undisturbed for the first time in ages.
He left the castle early the next day to continue his secret work for
Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. No one else was even aware
that he had been there.
THE END
[A/N - After I saw the movie "Truly, Madly, Deeply" I wished that I
had made the musical instrument in the story a cello.]
To all my reviewers:
SalemsCat, Dragongirl19, Andragol, bluebird161221 and Snapefan51
Thank you so much for reading my story and taking the time to review.
It means a lot to me.
To anyone who read the story but didn't review, shame on you [lol].
Reviews keep the plot bunnies alive.
I'll be writing another story soon. In the meantime check out
"Learning To Live Again". I'll be working on that one for quite a long
time.
Thank you all.
Barbara Kennedy