Chapter Thirteen: A Faithful Nursemaid
Emily couldn't sit still, the glaring lights, the constant announcements filling the air, the white robes rushing back and forth. At twelve years old, it was her first visit to the hospital, and would have been terribly exciting but for the reason they'd come.
"Merlin's beard, Emily, sit down," her brother gently chided, patting the bench beside him in invitation. Fighting the urge to bolt down the hall, she flopped into the seat, still twirling her wand between fingers that would not stop moving.
"You alright?" he asked kindly.
She shook her head briefly, wide eyes still staring down the hall in the direction they'd taken Severus.
"He'll be fine, Em," he assured her. "The Snapes are a hearty lot, stronger than they have a right to be."
"A grown man beating up a twelve-year-old boy, especially one as small as Sev, is hardly what I'd call strong," she snapped.
Eric's tone remained quiet and impassive, taking no offense at her ire. "That's not what I meant, Em."
She blinked, then faced him as though she'd just noticed his presence. A small sigh preceded an even smaller smile as she gave his knee a light pat.
"I know you didn't. I'm sorry." Green eyes immediately shifted back down the hall and she was up pacing the floor again before she could stop herself.
It wasn't the first time, despite her father's stern warnings, that the elder Snape had beaten his child, but it was the first time that his injuries had required medical attention. Had they not shown up at Snape Manor unexpectedly to return a textbook, Severus may have died under his father's wrath. Instead, Lord Grey pulled the inebriated man off of his son, knocked him out cold with a stunning spell and rushed Severus to St. Mungo's where they had been awaiting news for the past three hours.
At last, her father appeared in the hallway, closing the door softly behind him. Despite his lengthy stride, she met him halfway, hating to see the deepened lines on his face, the grave light in his usually peaceful eyes.
"Father?"
"He's alright, Emily," he said softly, drawing a long-kept breath from her lungs with a whoosh of air.
"May I..."
"Go on in," he instructed with a sad smile. "But, be very quiet, and try to not be frightened. The nurses haven't healed the superficial wounds, as yet, so he looks much worse than he is."
Setting her jaw firmly, she slipped past her father and through the door.
It was indeed a shock to see him like this, his face still torn and bruised, the purple blotches swollen beyond recognition in some places. Her heart immediately began to race as much with concern for her friend as with fury at his father for hurting him. The most frightening aspect of all was the look in his eyes. He stared not at the ceiling, but beyond it, his eyes hollow and glassy. She hesitated not a moment, though, before she was at his side, her fingers wrapped tightly around his. The hand trembled slightly, a sure sign that the bones there had recently been healed. Mab's heart, his father had actually broken his wand hand. Bastard!
"Sev?"
He didn't respond, merely turned his head to look at the opposite wall.
"Oh, no, Sev," she said in a pleading whisper. "Don't do that. I'm missing a perfectly good Quidditch match to be here with you."
Colorless lips twitched in what she was certain was his customary smirk.
"Ah ha!" she whispered triumphantly. "I saw that. Can't pretend I'm not here, now."
With a pitiful sigh, he turned to face her. Now she could see that his right eye was almost completely swollen shut, and his bottom lip split down the center. She swallowed the tears that would have only upset him, and held up a handful of papers.
"I brought the results from finals."
At last, a look of interest crossed his face. She chuckled despite herself. Had Severus been lying on his deathbed, he would've wanted to see his test scores. She read off his results in an almost jealous tone. Not only had he passed almost every subject with a perfect grade, he had gotten extra credit in most. She would never have the aptitude for taking life seriously enough to make those kinds of grades. When she lay the list aside, he looked, if not happy, at least satisfied.
"You failed to mention one class," he rasped.
At the sound of his voice, she immediately released his hand and cast about for a pitcher of water.
"Are you thirsty?" she asked anxiously.
He nodded mutely, and again the tears sprang to her eyes. Poor sweet Severus! Seeing him like this was almost unbearable.
Soon, she had managed to adjust his bed into a more upright position and held a glass of cold water to his ruined lips. He drank gratefully as she joked about being his faithful nursemaid, trying to lighten the air, knowing that it humiliated him to be so dependent.
"I didn't pass flying lessons, did I?" he whispered, the voice much more like his own, now.
"Actually, you did... but only just," she answered honestly.
He scowled, then grimaced at the pain it caused, then tried to relax his features. They sat for a long while in tranquil silence, each comforted by the presence of the other. Finally, Severus spoke.
"They have much more healing to do. I'll be stuck here for a few days."
He didn't need to elaborate. She knew that he would become incredibly bored stuck in a hospital bed with nothing to do. True that Emily would only leave his side when her father dragged her away, but even she ran out of things to talk about on occasion.
"I'll have father bring your books. Be right back."
Lord Grey wasn't far way, just down the hall, talking with two exhausted-looking mediwitches. Patiently, she waited as they spoke, partially out of respect, but mostly to catch any news that they wouldn't otherwise give a child.
"Lord Snape will be questioned by the Wizengamot tomorrow," the shorter witch said bitterly, clearly struggling to maintain her professionalism, "though the sentence will no doubt be the lightest they can give. Bloody politicians are so dazzled by the shine of his gold that they refuse to see justice done. It's absolutely revolting!"
Her father's face was hard, much harder than she was accustomed to seeing it, and it frightened her. This, then, must be the terrible face that his associates at the Ministry referred to, the reason so many dark wizards feared him at first sight. "I shall be paying a visit to Snape tomorrow morning. He may escape official justice, but that boy has been my daughter's dearest friend since before they could walk, and I'll be damned if..." His roving gaze caught sight of his daughter, then, trying to remain unobtrusively hidden behind the nearest mediwitch. He dismissed his audience with a curt nod and turned to his child with a sudden, soft smile.
"Are you alright, precious?"
She was greatly relieved to see that his face had returned to the kind visage she knew and loved. "Yes, father," she answered respectfully, "but Severus needs his books. Can you possibly go the Manor, now, instead of tomorrow? Please?"
He considered her for just a moment before responding. "I had intended on visiting after my anger had settled a bit, but how could I resist such a sweet request and such beautiful eyes?" He cupped her chin in his hand and smiled down at her. "So like your mother you are," he mused softly, his eyes suddenly far away. In a moment he had returned his attentions to her. "I shall leave immediately."
She threw her arms around his middle. "Thank you, father. He'll be much more himself with a book in his hand."
"And with you at his side, Lady Grey," he returned with a gentle smile. "I suppose you'll wish to stay with him tonight?"
"Yes, father, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all, my dear. I shall return shortly to collect your brother and make a few arrangements for your comfort. He drew a small bag of coins from his pocket and passed them into her hand. "Please eat something while I'm gone, and make sure that Eric does, as well. Alright?"
She nodded enthusiastically.
"That's my girl."
With that, he promptly vanished, leaving her alone in the stark white hall.
She returned to her friend's side immediately, but someone was already in her place, holding tightly to a sleeping Severus' hand, narrow shoulders shaking with sobs. Emily closed the door softly behind her as her friend's hand was brought to the intruder lips. He turned with a guilty start at the sound, wiping away bitter tears as he faced her. Emily inhaled deeply - a sharp, shocked breath.
"Eric?"
It was the first time she'd seen Severus really and truly hurt, but many incidents followed by way of both his father and, later in life, his illustrious career with the Death Eaters. Still, kneeling over his bloody body, her heart sank into her stomach as she cast a pathetically weak healing spell, targeting the rip in his side. It partially sealed itself, only moderately stemming the flow of blood, and she allowed herself a moment of quiet despair, not knowing what else to do.
A few shuddering breaths calmed her, and she was able to levitate his unconscious form up the stairs, through the castle, and to his chambers where she settled him into his own bed and stripped his clothing with a flick of her wand. Trying to concentrate only on his injuries, she busied herself casting a feeble pain-killing charm, then cleansing the dirt from the myriad of cuts and the one barely-closed hole in his side.
She was just pressing a clean cloth to the wound when a cold hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
"Kindly desist doing that, Emily," Severus hissed sharply, "before I hex you into next year."
She couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, thank Merlin, you're awake! I have no idea how to tend to this. I was just about to summon a mediwizard."
"No!" he snapped. "You know I hate to be poked and prodded by perfect strangers."
"Yeah, I know," she conceded, pulling his hand from her wrist with considerable effort. "Which is the only reason I didn't summon one immediately."
He nodded once, closing his eyes against the light. "Bloody fortunate you didn't."
Quickly, she dimmed the window and the torches, just as he'd done for her that morning.
"What should I do, Sev?"
"You should get us both home," he said simply.
"To your house in Hogsmeade, you mean?"
He narrowed his eyes. "No. To the French Riviera. I'd like a sip of champagne before I bleed to death," he muttered darkly. "Of course, to my house," he snapped. "Where did you suppose?"
She held up her hands defensively. "Alright, alright. Don't get your robes in a bunch. Just give me a few minutes to..."
"Liri!" he called sharply.
The little elf appeared at his side in an instant.
"Help this poor, pathetically ineffective excuse for a witch to gather our things," he ordered crossly. "We are going home for a few days."
"Yes, Master," was the elf's short reply before vanishing again.
"Look, Severus, I know you're injured, but that's no license for being nasty."
"Do recall that I warned you I'd be cross if you were wrong," he answered with a barely-perceptible smirk.
She rolled her eyes, knowing that he was just blowing off steam, using his injuries as a good excuse to snarl at anyone who crossed his path. "Well, you're not going to further my desire to come to your bed with that tone, Sevikins."
An acid look which would have, no doubt, preceded a wicked tongue lashing was cut off by the arrival of his house elf who immediately began snapping traveling cases from the closet and filling them with the necessities of home. In no time at all, they were packed.
When Severus was safely tucked into his own bed and his wound pulled together with his own magic, he began to pass orders to his house elf to bring up certain strengthening potions from his lab, and organized them at his bedside to be taken over the next few days. Emily, he had dictate a letter to Dumbledore, detailing the success of their second task and indicating that he had received a few negligible wounds and would require a small amount of rest before he was able to resume their work.
When the letter was finished, Emily rolled and sealed it, and Severus warded it with a venomous curse for prying eyes.
"Negligible wounds?" she asked as the letter flew away on the foot of a resident owl.
He huffed and settled further under the blanket. She tucked it under his chin with a small smile.
"Severus, this is bad," she said seriously. "Are you sure these potions will be enough..."
"My potions are a damn sight better than any mediwitch would have access to, Lady Grey." She flinched instinctively at his tone, and his next words were more gentle. "I am quite certain that we are capable of piecing me back together. I've done so often enough on my own." He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "And with a such a lovely nurse, I'm certain to heal all the faster."
She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks and was immediately ashamed of her sudden shyness. Leaning down, she brushed her lips across his forehead, then covered his mouth with a gentle kiss. "I'm going to go have a bath, alright? Just send Liri if you need me." He nodded, then closed his eyes with a great sigh. A gentle snore followed her out of the room.