A couple of hours later, their sporadic conversation had yielded to a comfortable silence, then they both became lost in their own thoughts. Pomfrey was sipping the last of her brandy when she noticed that her guest had fallen asleep.

"Severus?"

He snored softly in response.

She shook her head. The Potions Master wasn't quite one hundred percent yet. Of course, when was he ever? She knew that he often healed his injuries himself, loath as he was to crawl into the Hospital Wing after surviving another encounter with his "fellow" Death Eaters. On top of that, he was overworked; his diet was inadequate at best; he suffered from insomnia. Nothing short of lying on a beach in Tahiti for a year would restore him to health.

"Oh, you'd love that, I'm sure," she whispered, smiling at the thought. "A coconut shell in one hand and a Potions manual in the other." He looked so peaceful, ensconced in the cozy white cushions, that she didn't have the heart to wake him. So she covered him with the blue throw and carefully eased a pillow behind his head.

He barely stirred.

"Good night, Severus." She removed his shoes, turned the lights off, and retired to her bedroom.

[_]

The dungeons were not this warm.

Nor were his blankets so soft.

And was that frying bacon he smelled?

The Potions Master, who by now was spread out on Pomfrey's couch, mumbled and frowned.

"Severus? Are you awake?"

His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt-upright. "Where-"

Pomfrey came out of the kitchen, rubbing her hands on her apron. "Breakfast will be ready in a minute. Feeling rested? I hope the couch was comfortable enough."

He stared at her and looked around, as if trying to figure out how he'd ended up asleep in the mediwitch's living room, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

The dinner. Much more relaxing than he'd expected.

"Don't tell me I nodded off after just two glasses of brandy," he said.

"Oh, you were exhausted."

"You should have woken me."

"You were just fine where you were. I don't know how you can stand those cold chambers of yours."

He pushed the blanket away and slipped his feet into his shoes. "At least in the dungeons I am almost certain to find relative peace and quiet."

"Well, I'd rather you not get a chill so soon after your illness. Why don't you go splash some water on your face while I set the table?"

He threw a long-suffering look her way and retreated into the bathroom.

By the time he returned, a veritable feast had been laid on the table, which was crowded with plates and bowls: there were fresh strawberries and cream, waffles, eggs, fried potatoes, bacon, ham, cheese, dripping toast, steaming black coffee and orange juice. Pomfrey herself was at work on a pile of pancakes.

Snape blinked and said, "Is the rest of the staff joining us?"

"Sit down and eat up," she said, pointing at a chair.

He grumbled, took the indicated seat and reached for the coffee pot.

"It's a special occasion, Severus," she said. "Let loose. Have a strawberry."

"You are fast becoming the bane of my existence." Snape surveyed the array of food before him and said, "A serving of plain oatmeal would have sufficed."

She cringed. "Plain oatmeal? You know, for a spy, you're not very adventurous."

"If your life was as complex as mine, you'd learn to treasure the simpler things."

"Think of this weekend as a holiday," she said. "Enjoy yourself a little."

"I assume you cooked all this?"

"Of course I did."

"Well... fine." He put a couple of eggs, a few spoonfuls of potatoes and a slice of ham on his plate.

"Did you sleep all right?"

"Yes. I hope... I didn't mean to be an imposition-"

She tossed a strawberry at him and hit him square on the forehead. He smirked.

"Eat, Severus."

Before he knew it, he'd finished his plate and helped himself to more eggs and potatoes, adding some cheese and bacon. "If your goal was to trick me into gaining ten pounds, I daresay, mission accomplished. Are you quite happy now?"

"Oh, there's still lunch," Pomfrey said, looking at him over her cup of tea.

He stopped chewing, stared back at her, and quickly swallowed. "You don't truly expect me to hang around with you for the entire weekend. I already told you yesterday, Poppy, I have essays to gra-"

"How about a walk around the gardens after breakfast? It'll give you an opportunity to burn all those calories."

"I should be yelling at you right now, and marching out of here."

She filled his cup again and said, "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone how gracious you really are underneath the scowl."

"It is fortunate for me that no one would believe you anyway."

The Potions Master's day in the company of the school's mediwitch turned out to be more pleasant than he could have imagined. Perhaps he spent too much time alone, as she'd previously suggested. Even when they weren't talking and were just sitting together, sharing another glass of brandy while watching the sun set beyond her living room windows, like they did after dinner, he discovered that simply having someone else nearby felt nice.

Earlier, they'd had a stroll on the grounds, then had lunch in Hogsmeade and did a bit of shopping. It had been a bright fall day, with just enough crispness in the air to cheer him. He'd chanced on a 1959 edition of The Fantastic World of Muggle Elixirs, and before they returned to Hogwarts, he allowed Pomfrey to buy him a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks.

Not that he'd ever admit it, but he'd enjoyed himself.

"It's getting late," he said when the sky began to darken. "I think I should head back to the dungeons lest I fall asleep on your couch again. We wouldn't want to create a scandal."

Pomfrey's laughter was immediately joined by his.

Then suddenly, he dropped his glass and choked in agony, doubling over.

"Severus!" The mediwitch rushed to his seat and crouched down in front of him. "What is it? Severus, Severus!"

"S- summoning... me," he said, barely able to breathe.

"Does it usually... is it always this-"

"No... m- must be... upset... I have to... to go..."

"Let me get the ointment," Pomfrey said, her face white. "This can't be good-"

He raised his head, and his eyes met hers. "I have to go."

After a moment, she nodded, then reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Be careful... Please, be careful."

"I must... retrieve some things from my chambers."

"Use my fireplace," she said, helping him to his feet.

They made their way toward the hearth and she threw some floo powder into the dying flames. "Professor Snape's quarters."

He tried to smile and said, "I'll see you for breakfast... tomorrow. Make me some pancakes?"

"Whatever you want, Severus," she said, her throat growing tight.

Then he was gone.

She gazed at the fireplace, and went to change into her uniform.

[_]

Pain.

Snape stopped trying to move and concentrated on figuring out where he was.

What had happened?

Lucius informs me that you were... ill.

Snape began to tremble and felt a hand on his head. He heard a soft voice, but couldn't make out the words. His attempt to speak was futile; nothing but a croak emerged from his mouth.

Then he remembered screaming.

Under no circumstances is a Death Eater to ignore my call.Crucio.

Snape moaned. He felt something like a pin prick on his arm and flinched.

"... morphine." The soft voice again. "Severus..." Noises. "... hear me?"

However, I fear a much more troubling matter has come to my attention, Severus.

The Dark Lord knew.

"His heart rate is going up-"

Footsteps, rustling sounds.

"... a normal reaction to the drug."

He couldn't be alive.

You are a traitor. Crucio.

The Potions Master struggled to open his eyes. "Albussss..."

"I'm here, Severus. Breathe slowly. You're home."

The pain was fading now, and he could have sworn he was floating right off the bed.

Bed?

The last thing he knew, he'd been lying face down in mud and dried leaves, and shivering...

"He... He-Who-Must... Not-Be-Named... knows..."

"Albus, don't excite him. Don't talk, Severus, rest."

Snape's right eyelid fluttered; the other was swollen shut. "Poppy..."

"Shhh," the mediwitch said, dabbing his forehead with a cloth. "Your jaw is badly bruised. I know you can't feel it because of the drugs we've given you, but it'd be better if you stayed quiet."

Snape's lips twitched and his eye rolled lazily in its socket before closing again. "Mmm... is it Muggle..."

"Yes, dear," Pomfrey said.

"Mmm."

"You're safe now. We're taking good care of you."

He nodded, the gesture barely perceptible. Then he frowned and said, "No..."

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore said.

"Death Eaters... thought they were... going to kill me."

How long did they beat him? He'd been kicked, punched, clobbered, over and over... He remembered the taste of blood after one of his ribs had snapped...

Traitor.

He moaned.

"It's all right, lad," Dumbledore said. "I won't let you go back." He whispered a spell and Snape was asleep.