Chapter 28:
I awake only when I feel Severus shift positions. Slowly my eyes open. I lay there, awake, feeling every inch of my skin. I carefully flex all my muscles in turn, beginning with my toes. They are all there, and, more importantly, all functional.
Having worked my way up to my forehead, which is currently covered in wrinkles, I smile when I hear my husband's voice cut through the quiet.
"Had I known that forehead would be so covered in wrinkles this early in life, I may have been less enthusiastic to bind myself to you for eternity." Severus has turned towards me, eyeing my muscular progress with skepticism.
"Had I known your left forearm would sport such an ugly mark, I might have been more reticent myself." Fortunately, he takes this as lightly as it was meant and is not offended. He kisses me lightly on the cheek and rises. At my protest, he reaches his index finger down to brush my cheek.
"Dumbledore will want to know how things went last night." He says brusquely.
"What things, Severus?" I ask immediately.
He intakes a breath sharply and squares off to me. "I was summoned last night. I have not yet spoken to Albus about it."
"Is there much to report?" I ask, apprehensive of his answer.
"No. The Dark Lord is furious that this plan did not work, but he does not blame me. Or you, for that matter." Some small relief, I note.
"Who does he blame?" I ask warily.
"As of last night, no one. He simply considers there to have been flaws in the plan. MacNair received the brunt of the Dark Lord's wrath. He was, after the all, the one who cast the killing curse, though I believe he was aiming for Minerva." Severus is examining his hands, picking at a piece of sticking plaster on his right thumb; he has been brewing.
"How is Minerva?" I ask.
"She is fine. Both she and the werewolf sustained only superficial wounds. Albus and Potter were not injured at all. Lucius took a nasty hit to the chest and is still recovering. MacNair was not injured during battle, but has since found swallowing a little difficult." He answers.
I do not want to know the details of MacNair's injury, though I have a general idea of which curse was used; nasty little bugger which leaves the recipient unable to talk for close to a week.
"I must go, Bena. I hope, if Poppy allows it, that you would move back to our rooms when you leave here." Severus leaves in a swirl of robes, leaving me alone again.
Not for long. Poppy bustles out from her office. She picks up my left hand, feeling for my pulse. Tsking me for some unknown reason, she clucks her tongue against her teeth. "I suppose I shall allow you to go. But, you must remain in bed, and drink plenty of fluids, and not lift anything over five kilos, and do not use magic unless absolutely necessary, and-
"-Poppy, I'm only going to be in the dungeons. Don't worry so much." I interrupt her. She sighs and sits next to me on the bed.
"My apologies, Bena. I simply do not know how to deal with this. I have only ever dealt with one other wizard to survive the killing curse, and he was a baby when I nursed him to health." The mediwitch looks very distraught at finding herself unable to effectively treat me.
I pat her hand affectionately and rise slowly from the bed. Poppy holds a hand out to steady me, which I accept gratefully. I carefully make my way to the door, taking small steps. Nodding to Poppy, I exit the hospital wing.
I grip the stones of the wall along the corridor as I slowly make progress towards the dungeons.
"Professor?" I hear a young make voice from the shadows. A pale boy steps out. "Blaise Zabini", Slytherin, I drag up from my memory. The boy nods.
"Do you need some help, Professor?" he asks. I nod. He takes an arm to support me and we continue along.
"What are you doing out so early this morning, Mr. Zabini?" I ask, hoping to sound friendly.
"Just wandering. I wasn't allowed out yesterday. They didn't tell me why at the time, though I understand now. They told me, rather, I overheard that you...you..."
I wait for him to continue. When he does not, I supply the unfinished sentence. "Survived 'Avada Kedavra'."
"Yes."
"I did."
"Oh." He pauses. "How?"
Chuckling softly I answer, "I do not know, my dear young man. How did you come to hear of it?"
"I overheard Granger and Weasley talking about it in the great hall. Are you really married to Professor Snape?" Well, that at least explains to overt kindness. When a professor is potentially married to one's head of house, it generally is considered in good taste to be kind to them.
"Yes." I affirm.
"Ah."
I smile. Zabini appears to enjoy mono-syllabic sentences. I will indulge him. "Do you support the Dark Lord, Blaise?"
"No." there is no question in the young Slytherin's answer. Knowing this could very well be a test, I tread carefully forward.
"Truly?"
"Yes."
This is becoming ridiculous. Fortunately, he seems to agree with me and elaborates on his last answer. "I do not see why someone deserves to be punished or tortured or killed because of something they have no control over, like their blood. Besides, it doesn't seem to affect someone's magical abilities."
He is warming to the subject. I trod on, homing in on my front door. "After all, Granger, though a mudblood, is the brightest witch in school. And Crabbe and Goyle are old purebloods, but they can barely scrape a pass in potions, which is a given for any Slytherin."
I smile at the injustice of my husband's favoritism, though I know it to be well-founded. I also choose to ignore the slur about the brightest witch at Hogwarts, knowing it is not meant in any truly personal way. We are at my door. I thank Blaise, who insists that if, in the future I require his assistance, I must call upon him immediately, and enter my rooms.
Severus is not back yet, so I settle myself upon the sofa and pick up a tome of mythology Severus had on the table. There is a tray of tea sent up by the house elves, so I settle in and feel myself gain strength. After all, this was only the first battle.
I awake only when I feel Severus shift positions. Slowly my eyes open. I lay there, awake, feeling every inch of my skin. I carefully flex all my muscles in turn, beginning with my toes. They are all there, and, more importantly, all functional.
Having worked my way up to my forehead, which is currently covered in wrinkles, I smile when I hear my husband's voice cut through the quiet.
"Had I known that forehead would be so covered in wrinkles this early in life, I may have been less enthusiastic to bind myself to you for eternity." Severus has turned towards me, eyeing my muscular progress with skepticism.
"Had I known your left forearm would sport such an ugly mark, I might have been more reticent myself." Fortunately, he takes this as lightly as it was meant and is not offended. He kisses me lightly on the cheek and rises. At my protest, he reaches his index finger down to brush my cheek.
"Dumbledore will want to know how things went last night." He says brusquely.
"What things, Severus?" I ask immediately.
He intakes a breath sharply and squares off to me. "I was summoned last night. I have not yet spoken to Albus about it."
"Is there much to report?" I ask, apprehensive of his answer.
"No. The Dark Lord is furious that this plan did not work, but he does not blame me. Or you, for that matter." Some small relief, I note.
"Who does he blame?" I ask warily.
"As of last night, no one. He simply considers there to have been flaws in the plan. MacNair received the brunt of the Dark Lord's wrath. He was, after the all, the one who cast the killing curse, though I believe he was aiming for Minerva." Severus is examining his hands, picking at a piece of sticking plaster on his right thumb; he has been brewing.
"How is Minerva?" I ask.
"She is fine. Both she and the werewolf sustained only superficial wounds. Albus and Potter were not injured at all. Lucius took a nasty hit to the chest and is still recovering. MacNair was not injured during battle, but has since found swallowing a little difficult." He answers.
I do not want to know the details of MacNair's injury, though I have a general idea of which curse was used; nasty little bugger which leaves the recipient unable to talk for close to a week.
"I must go, Bena. I hope, if Poppy allows it, that you would move back to our rooms when you leave here." Severus leaves in a swirl of robes, leaving me alone again.
Not for long. Poppy bustles out from her office. She picks up my left hand, feeling for my pulse. Tsking me for some unknown reason, she clucks her tongue against her teeth. "I suppose I shall allow you to go. But, you must remain in bed, and drink plenty of fluids, and not lift anything over five kilos, and do not use magic unless absolutely necessary, and-
"-Poppy, I'm only going to be in the dungeons. Don't worry so much." I interrupt her. She sighs and sits next to me on the bed.
"My apologies, Bena. I simply do not know how to deal with this. I have only ever dealt with one other wizard to survive the killing curse, and he was a baby when I nursed him to health." The mediwitch looks very distraught at finding herself unable to effectively treat me.
I pat her hand affectionately and rise slowly from the bed. Poppy holds a hand out to steady me, which I accept gratefully. I carefully make my way to the door, taking small steps. Nodding to Poppy, I exit the hospital wing.
I grip the stones of the wall along the corridor as I slowly make progress towards the dungeons.
"Professor?" I hear a young make voice from the shadows. A pale boy steps out. "Blaise Zabini", Slytherin, I drag up from my memory. The boy nods.
"Do you need some help, Professor?" he asks. I nod. He takes an arm to support me and we continue along.
"What are you doing out so early this morning, Mr. Zabini?" I ask, hoping to sound friendly.
"Just wandering. I wasn't allowed out yesterday. They didn't tell me why at the time, though I understand now. They told me, rather, I overheard that you...you..."
I wait for him to continue. When he does not, I supply the unfinished sentence. "Survived 'Avada Kedavra'."
"Yes."
"I did."
"Oh." He pauses. "How?"
Chuckling softly I answer, "I do not know, my dear young man. How did you come to hear of it?"
"I overheard Granger and Weasley talking about it in the great hall. Are you really married to Professor Snape?" Well, that at least explains to overt kindness. When a professor is potentially married to one's head of house, it generally is considered in good taste to be kind to them.
"Yes." I affirm.
"Ah."
I smile. Zabini appears to enjoy mono-syllabic sentences. I will indulge him. "Do you support the Dark Lord, Blaise?"
"No." there is no question in the young Slytherin's answer. Knowing this could very well be a test, I tread carefully forward.
"Truly?"
"Yes."
This is becoming ridiculous. Fortunately, he seems to agree with me and elaborates on his last answer. "I do not see why someone deserves to be punished or tortured or killed because of something they have no control over, like their blood. Besides, it doesn't seem to affect someone's magical abilities."
He is warming to the subject. I trod on, homing in on my front door. "After all, Granger, though a mudblood, is the brightest witch in school. And Crabbe and Goyle are old purebloods, but they can barely scrape a pass in potions, which is a given for any Slytherin."
I smile at the injustice of my husband's favoritism, though I know it to be well-founded. I also choose to ignore the slur about the brightest witch at Hogwarts, knowing it is not meant in any truly personal way. We are at my door. I thank Blaise, who insists that if, in the future I require his assistance, I must call upon him immediately, and enter my rooms.
Severus is not back yet, so I settle myself upon the sofa and pick up a tome of mythology Severus had on the table. There is a tray of tea sent up by the house elves, so I settle in and feel myself gain strength. After all, this was only the first battle.