A High Price

By: Barbara Kennedy

Disclaimer: This story is a total creation of my mind but the
characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
The only thing I'm getting from this story is the fun of writing
it and the kick of reading my reviews.

It is Alternate Universe, so if anything I put in here doesn't
match up with any of the books, tough luck, just take my word
for it that it happened in this reality.

This is going to be almost totally from Snape's point of view.
I'm not sure where the story will end up yet either. It's a bit
dark and angsty but maybe something good will come of it.

To all my reviewers - Thank you all, you inspire me. Without all
of you this story would be futile.

Sorry - I really meant to get to the part about what happened
the night of the fire, but the longer I wrote the more Severus-
muse wanted to say and he made me write it, or he wasn't going
to continue the story - pushy little muse. So this winds up
being a "filler" chapter. I almost have the next part all
written but it will have to be a separate chapter. At least it
will be posted sooner than this one was. After that, this story
may have to go on hold because I've promised some folks I'd
write on my story "Learning To Live Again."

*thoughts*
~stressed words~

** ** ** **
Chapter five - A Setback continued
** ** ** **

(Continued from last chapter)
"Madam Pomfrey, is there ~any~ part of the Dark Mark left on my
arm?"

I didn't think there could be, it had been nearer my wrist than
the part that remained.

"No Severus that was part of the reason Dumbledore feared for
your life. He didn't know if You-Know-Who would be aware that
you were no longer branded with his Mark.

This revelation stuns me. It is possible that the Dark Lord
knows. He always claimed he could sense things about his Death
Eaters because we bore the Mark.

When I had first turned away from his service, it always made me
anxious that he would be able to tell, through whatever
connection there may have been, that I was no longer the
"faithful follower" he still believed me to be, that I was
spying on him.

As time passed I figured out that he could not sense everything
about his Death Eaters from their connection to him through the
Dark Mark, but he could sense some things.

What could he sense about us through it? Perhaps it varies from
individual to individual? He apparently could always sense, even
if only vaguely, whether his marked Death Eaters were alive or
not.

I know this much only because I have been in his presence when
he sensed the death of some of his men and lashed out at those
he deemed responsible for their failure, myself included.

I once thought it was that connection that allowed him to know
when someone was lying to him. Now, however, I know that it is
because he is an accomplished practitioner of both Legilimency
and Occlumency.

Fortunately, for me and for the sake of the Order, I am at least
as powerful in their practice as the Dark Lord. Thanks to an
inordinate amount of shear dumb luck, as Minerva would say, even
under the torture of a Cruciatus Curse my inner shields are
strong enough to block him.

The night of the fire the Dark Lord may have thought, at first,
that I ~had~ died when he could no longer sense me through my
Dark Mark. If he sensed anything else about what happened to me
then, he must have been convinced, especially if that dream is
what actually happened. Merlin! I'm still shaking, just from
thinking about it.

However, by now it is very likely that news of my accident and
disfigurement has gotten back to him either from some of his
spies or from normal correspondence between Death Eater parents
and their children here at Hogwarts. It has been almost a full
week since it happened, plenty of time for all kinds of rumors
to spread.

My condition is surely not a secret, not if, as incredible as it
seems, all four school houses actually cooperated in creating my
new hand. I'm still amazed, although, I suppose if anyone could,
that stubborn Gryffindor, Hermione Granger, would find a way to
get them to cooperate, although she probably had more trouble
getting her Gryffindor friends to help than she did with my
Slytherins.

Dumbledore said that he had announced to the whole school what
happened to me. I know there are some students in Slytherin who
would have written home immediately upon hearing the reasons for
my unexpected absence. Lucius would know all about it by now,
and if he knows, I could be sure that the Dark Lord knows.

I am not sure whether it is those thoughts that make my stomach
roll once again with nausea or if it is again the blow to my
head causing it. It hits me again suddenly. I swallow hard and
breathe carefully to control it.

I am glad for once that Madam Pomfrey was still hovering nearby.
"Poppy, would you mind getting me another dose of the tonic for
my stomach? I'm feeling rather queasy again and would rather not
endure a repeat performance from earlier."

Madam Pomfrey hastens to my side, bringing a pan and placing it
near my hand. It is obviously in case I do get sick again, so I
won't have to lean over the edge of the bed.

"Of course I don't mind, Severus. It will be good for you to
have more of the tonic. The honey in it will give you some
energy as well." She pours a much more generous amount into a
glass than earlier and carefully helps me drink it slowly
without moving my head more than necessary because any movement
at all sends stabs of pain through my head and jolts of nausea
twisting my stomach. I'm able to finish half the contents of the
glass before I must stop.

"That's all I think I better try for now Poppy. Let me see if
this will stay down before I have any more."

Poppy nods with a small smile and sets the glass on the tray.
"You would know about that better than I would, just let me know
when you are ready for more. I'm just happy to get ~any~ liquid
into you for now, especially after you were sick. I do hope you
can manage to eat some of the soup as well. You just lay quiet
and still now and get some rest. The tray should arrive soon."

I lay there with my eyes closed again, feeling much more aware
than I have since the accident, in spite of the pounding in my
head. I'm also glad to note that my stomach seems to have been
soothed by the tonic. I don't feel as nauseous as I did.

To pass the time and try to ignore my discomforts, I begin
thinking about the consequences of what has happened to me and
trying to fill in the gaps in my memory about the night of the
fire.

Foremost in my mind is a mortal dread of returning to the Dark
Lord like this. With the Dark Mark no longer burned into my
flesh, can he command me to return, or was the Mark burned into
my very soul?

I have no idea whether I will still feel the Dark Lord's summons
or if I have been freed from that bondage. Yes, that is what it
was, slavery to the slightest whim of a madman.

I fear that my usefulness as a spy for Dumbledore's Order of the
Phoenix has come to an end. The feasibility of resuming that
task is so small as to be nonexistent.

A sneer crosses my face as I lay there with my eyes closed. The
Order of the Phoenix, isn't that a fine and noble-sounding name
for a high-minded group of would-be martyrs? How typically
Gryffindor they are.

They barely acknowledge the fact that I also am a full member of
the Order. When I ~was~ bringing them important information on
the Dark Lord and his followers at the risk of my life, they
would not even invite me to dine with them at their current
"headquarters" in the home of that insufferable mongrel, Sirius
Black.

No, Black always made it abundantly clear that I was not welcome
to stay in ~his home~ one moment longer than was necessary to
deliver my information and answer any questions they had.

Even if any of the other members made an invitation, I would
decline, knowing that Black would find some way to provoke me
into a fight before the evening was over. It was easy to guess
who they would hang the blame on in that case, even if they had
all witnessed the entire thing.

Would they tolerate my coming to their meetings now that I
couldn't bring them the only thing they really wanted from me?
Especially since some still unfairly blame me for Black's death
despite the fact that I did all I could to prevent it?

Did I really want to fight them for that dubious privilege? Some
part of me still says 'yes' and I briefly wonder why. Perhaps I
still see the Order as my salvation? Do I actually still hope
for acceptance, for trust, for. . . what. . . friendship? I
suppose. . . where else am I going to find it?

I am still overwhelmed each time I realize that I have
Dumbledore's acceptance, trust and friendship. I now realize
that I need not worry overmuch about my position here at
Hogwarts.

I realize how much I had overreacted; screaming at Dumbledore in
the sudden realization of the loss of my hand and fear of
helplessness. I would have a position here at Hogwarts, teaching
Potions, as long as Dumbledore was Headmaster, as long as I was
able, because he trusts me. I work hard to be worthy of that
trust. Why won't others see that?

Ye gods, next thing you know I'll be crying into my pillows. I
must be affected more by the blow to my head than I thought. It
must have truly addled my brain for me to be thinking such
maudlin, pitiful thoughts.

Perhaps it would be better to concentrate on why I can't
remember why we were even there at that house that night. I do
remember being there with three other Death Eaters, but our
purpose escapes me. I could assume it was the usual reason of
spreading terror among the muggles, but it doesn't seem to be
all we were supposed to do. How much of that day ~have~ I
forgotten?

It is beginning to worry me because the harder I think about it
the more it seems that there was something important I wanted to
tell Dumbledore about that night, but I cannot remember. I am
beginning to worry whether I just have some amnesia, or have I
been Obliviated?

Soon my troubled thoughts are interrupted by Minerva returning
with the tray that Poppy had requested for me. I had not
expected that she would bring it herself.

Right behind her, Dumbledore enters, looking relieved to see me
awake. "Severus, dear boy, are you alright? Minerva told me you
had a nightmare earlier which caused you to fall and hurt
yourself."

I feel my face flush with embarrassment. "I'm fine sir, I just
have a headache from landing on my head, but Poppy says I am not
damaged otherwise."

Poppy takes the tray from Minerva and places it near my bed.
"That isn't quite what I said, Headmaster. I said he has a
concussion, which can be serious enough on its own. All the more
reason I really want to be able to give him another Healing
Potion. He had a good meal earlier today, even though he lost
part of it. If I can get him to eat a bit more now, I think I
will risk giving him one."

"Poppy, I have a suggestion. Perhaps it would work as well if I
took the potion now, then I could possibly feel well enough to
eat a meal."

"Alright, Severus. I'm willing to do it your way only if you
will promise me you will eat a full meal, not just the soup that
Minerva has brought for you, but whatever I have brought up from
the kitchen in the meantime as well."

"I can only say I am willing to try Poppy. I have no wish to
delay my recovery any longer than necessary."

Madam Pomfrey gazes at me a moment. "Just let me get the potion
then."

Before any more could be said, I felt the need to tell
Dumbledore of my worries. "Sir, I'm glad you are here. I've been
going over the night of the fire. I want to tell you that I
don't recall a lot of what happened that night, but I fear there
~was~ something important I should have told you, but I cannot
remember what it was. It is like I can almost remember, but it
slips out of reach every time I try. I feel certain that it was
a very important piece of information. I am worried that my
memory may have been altered."

To be continued. . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well there it is. I hope it isn't just over seven pages full of
garbage. Most of it was written after staying up way too late
over several nights. I will try to be sure the next chapter has
more substance. It will probably pick up again exactly where
this one left off.