"You've spent too many years holding everything inside," Pomfrey said. "It's time to be yourself, Severus. Time to be a human being again."
"I'm too tired for that right now. I'll stick to being surly and unbearable, if that's fine with you."
"Want to give eating another go?"
He sighed, and nodded. "I suppose so."
"Good."
She managed to get him to eat almost the entire bowl, then he said, "Thank you, Poppy. I've had enough." His eyelids were growing heavy; he yawned.
"Take this pill before you fall asleep," she said. "It's for the pain."
She put the medication in his mouth and helped him drink from a glass of water.
"Are you staying?" he whispered.
"Of course, Severus. You just rest."
His breathing deepened and his head rolled to one side.
"I'll be right here," Pomfrey said, and kissed his forehead.
[_]
It soon became obvious that the Potions Master was determined not to let the result of his latest encounter with Voldemort destroy his life. Though there were moments when Pomfrey and Dr. Moorland's care made him lose his patience, he generally submitted to their wishes without too much grumbling. As the days went by, his wounds began to heal and he regained some of his strength, but the mediwitch wouldn't let him leave the Hospital Wing until she was entirely satisfied that he was indeed better, which caused him to snap at her more than once. She placated her irritable patient by supplying him with piles of books about the Muggle medicine they'd been using in his treatment. He devoured them one after the other, and became increasingly fascinated by chemistry and biology.
"Perhaps we can visit some colleagues of mine, and they can give you a tour of their labs," Dr. Moorland told him one morning. Dumbledore had convinced Pomfrey to have breakfast with him in the Great Hall, and the mediwitch had left the Hospital Wing only after hearing Dr. Moorland's repeated assurances that Snape was no longer in any danger. Snape, propped up against a mound of pillows and engrossed in another thick medical tome, had waved her out of the room, echoing the doctor's words.
"Do you think so? I would very much like that," the Potions Master said.
"We'll definitely have to arrange it, then. I thought we'd start the vitamin treatment I spoke to you about a little while ago, do you remember?"
Snape nodded.
The doctor removed a box from his bag, opened it, and showed the Potions Master a glass vial filled with a dark liquid.
"This contains iron, vitamins and herbs, all of which will help strengthen you and ease your tension," Moorland said. He broke the tips and poured the liquid in a glass of orange juice. "I'll want you to take this three times a day for at least a month, then we can reduce it to once a day."
"Very well," Snape said. Suddenly, he frowned and went to touch his left arm, but quickly put his hand back in his lap instead.
"Professor?"
"Nothing. It's -nothing," Snape said, but he was growing paler with each passing second.
"Is your arm troubling you?" the doctor said. "Let me see-"
"Let you see what? There isn't bloody well anything to look at, is there?" Then Snape gasped and screwed his eyes shut, gripping the top portion of his left arm.
"Take some deep breaths, you're having phantom pains."
"It's... worse... than the other times..." Sweat was pouring down Snape's features.
"Professor, I thought I asked you to tell me if you were experiencing any sort of pain."
"What's going on in here?" Pomfrey said, rushing in the ward with Dumbledore at her side. "I knew I shouldn't have left!"
"He seems to be suffering from phantom limb syndrome," the doctor said. "Professor Snape has not been completely honest with me about his injury."
Snape complexion turned red and he snarled at the doctor. "What... what did you want me to say? Oh, by the way... my non-existent arm is hurting me?" Then he forgot about his anger and cried out. "How can this be? It feels like... like he's summoning me."
Dumbledore waved his wand over the Potions Master. "I can detect no dark magic. Doctor?"
"The pain he endured before the amputation is causing this," Moorland said.
Snape cried out again, and he couldn't stop the tears that leaked from his eyes.
"Dolorosa reducio," Pomfrey said, tapping her wand against Snape's upper arm, with no apparent effect. "Why isn't he responding to wand magic?"
"Mad Eye Moody once told me that it hadn't been very useful when it came to his amputated leg," Dumbledore said. "Apparently, because the limb is missing, the spell is weakened. But he was soothed by potions."
"The magic may be as fooled by the spinal cord hyperexcitability as the brain is," Moorland said.
"Isn't there anything we can do?" Pomfrey said.
Moorland grabbed the bottle of Aspirin on the bedside table and helped Snape swallow two of them. "This will increase the blood flow in his arm, and lessen the pain." He then fished a silver nylon mesh out of his bag.
Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles and peered at the odd strip of fabric. "What is that?"
"It's called Farabloc. The thin steel fibers lower the levels of creatine phosphokinase enzymes, which will relieve the cramping in his muscles. I'd hoped it wouldn't be necessary, but... Madam Pomfrey, would you assist me for a moment?"
"Of course."
"It was made to fit around his shoulder and upper arm."
Both he and Pomfrey maneuvered Snape so that he was lying on his side, and the doctor slipped the Farabloc into place. A few moments later, the Potions Master's breathing was less ragged, and he was gently rolled onto his back again.
"Severus?" Pomfrey said, wiping his face. "Is it better?"
"Yes." Snape closed his eyes. "I am feeling a wonderful, pulsing warmth."
"The anti-inflammatory pills I have given him will also reduce the discomfort," Moorland said.
"Why wasn't I told about these... phantom pains?" Pomfrey said, rounding on the doctor and Dumbledore.
"Now, now, Poppy," Dumbledore said. "We didn't know Severus was having them. I recalled my conversation with Mad Eye because of what just happened."
"Phantom limb syndrome doesn't occur in every case," Moorland said. "Your Professor Snape didn't listen to me. I'd specifically requested he inform me if he felt anything unusual."
"I didn't expect you meant I should tell you about my imaginary ills," Snape mumbled.
"Well, it is rather pointless to argue about it now," Dumbledore said. "Though you won't keep anything else from us, will you, Severus."
"Yes, yes, I promise," Snape said. "Is that acceptable to you? Poppy? Dr. Moorland?"
"I suppose it'll do for now," Pomfrey said. "But you and I will have a little talk later."
Snape groaned.
"Get some sleep, my boy. I shall come by again this afternoon," Dumbledore said.
"Oh, good... You can rescue me."
Pomfrey shook her head and tucked Snape in. "I'll go easy on you. It's been ages since I've lectured you, Severus. Don't tell me you haven't missed it a little."
"I've missed your cooking much more," he murmured. He was starting to fall asleep.
"If you behave, I'll make you dinner and bring it here."
"Deal," he said, and slumber claimed him.
"I swear he'll be the death of me," Pomfrey said. "Should we be worrying about any other strange reactions, Dr. Moorland?"
"I sincerely hope not. As you know, this case is somewhat out of the ordinary for me."
"It's out of the ordinary for everyone involved," Dumbledore said. "But I believe everything is under control now. So perhaps you can tell me more about how you introduced our Potions Master to your cooking, Poppy."
It was the mediwitch's turn to wish for rescue.
[_]
"Can anyone tell me which ingredient is absent from the list?" Snape said.
It was a week later, and the Potions Master was back in the classroom. Once he was pronounced well enough to leave the Hospital Wing, Dr. Moorland had fitted him with a prosthetic limb, which Snape was still adjusting to. He used wand magic to compensate for the loss of his arm and found the handicap was not as difficult to cope with as he'd first feared.
He'd never been too concerned about aesthetics, after all... And at least, he was rid of the mark. The phantom pains hadn't bothered him since the last time. On the whole, it could have been worse.
Pomfrey hadn't been too pleased when he announced he would begin teaching again, saying he needed to rest after all he'd been through, but he wanted to resume his normal activities as soon as possible. Many of the children had seemed glad to see him and it raised his spirits, although he didn't let it show.
He wasn't a spy anymore, but he still felt like one. Perhaps, with time, he'd learn to let his guard down. A bit.
"Anyone?"
As usual, Hermione Granger was the only one whose hand was raised.
He sighed. "Miss Granger?"
"Crushed salamander tails, professor."
"Five points to Gryffindor." He paused. "Perhaps you can demonstrate to the rest of the class how to brew the potion. Then all of you can try to replicate what she has done."
He could tell they were trying very hard not to let their jaws drop.
She was about to start when Harry and Snape both drew in their breaths at the same time. Then Snape fell to the floor, clutching his prosthetic arm, while the Boy Who Lived gripped his forehead and doubled over.
Pandemonium broke out; half the students raced to the Potions Master, and the other half surrounded Harry.
"Professor! What's the matter?" Pansy Parkinson said, kneeling next to the trembling man.
"It -it'll p- pass," he said. His cheek was pressed against the stone floor and his hair was moist with sweat. The pain was so intense he could barely breathe; he fought not to black out.
Phantom pain... only phantom pain... don't panic...
He opened his eyes and suddenly realized he wasn't the only one who was in distress.
Something was wrong with Potter as well.
No... can't be...
"M- miss Parkinson... get... get the Head... master... hurry..."
The Slytherin was off before he could get all the words out of his mouth.