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Note: Ok, this is not my favorite chapter...it was complicated. Thoughts are so contradicting. Minds are so complex. Anyways, thanks once again for all the encouraging reviews. I've got something more entertaining planned for the next chapter and I hope you enjoy this one too.

Dumbledore sat silently, guarding the man's sleep, his mind wandering.

Those years Snape had been a student, he had watched him from afar. Wondering what would become of him, as he did with all his students. Knowing time would pass and some would be lead to the Darkness, and yet somehow hoping it would not be so. That all would be won by the Light, that some way or other everything would be Good. Though as he watched the Slytherins of that year progress, in his heart he knew that many would be seduced. Taken away from his loving grasp. He was certain however, that no one was born with a bad heart. Though it was true, of course, that some hearts corrupted easier than others. And it came as no real shock (though he had been devastated) when Snape came to show him his Dark Mark. His sense of failure had been keen, and yet, mingled with that sense of defeat. There had been a small piece of shining hope, that he had won back at least one. That at least one had returned, not too late. And most surprising that it had been him, one who had suffered so much in all his life. At home, at school... One who should desire revenge on all, who should hate the world in an attempt to feel something apart from pain. But his heart had been true, his concious strong, his evil nothing more than the effect of all that hatred and pain. It grieved him, to see the man roaming still in that darkness, his sense of guilt and self-hatred pityful to see. His mind was set though. He had chosen wrong, as many others did. But he turned back. Recognizing that others did not deserve to be treated that way just because he had been thus handled; that purebloods, half-bloods and "mudbloods" were equals; that muggles did not choose the way they were and had no blame; that all should be able to choose, to think what they wished without being killed or tortured; that one could stand by one's posture without resorting to force others into one's view; that the world deserved peace. In otherwords, he had not been Voldemort.

Mcgonagall stared at the sleeping man, her mind in turmoil.

After those shocking revelations about his private life, those pieces of information that reflected his misery...it was hard to stop the pity from surfacing, drowning all other emotions away. She trusted him. Knew he was no real Death Eater at heart. Even more after this torture. For who would go back for more torture willingly? Who would return to what they despised? Only a madman. Or one so completely broken they were nothing but an empty shell. And he was neither. For he was most certainly not crazy, and the suffering of his soul was a clear sign he was still alive inside. Even if he was dying. And yet, she couldn't but help wonder at his real reasons for turning back. Was it that he truly believed in what the Light stood for...or was it simply that he could not stand the guilt? His usual demenour would suggest the latter, dissapointing. But he was such a private man and had suffered so much in his years... it might just be an act. Yes, she tried to convince herself it was really so. And she was nearly sure, who could blame him from wanting to protect himself further? Who could blame him for being so unpleasant when almost no one had been pleasant with him?

Snape woke slowly. Every muscle in his body aching him. Every bone seeming to grind with the next with an excruciating pain and a horrible rasp that roared in his ears. His eyelids were heavy as he lifted them with difficulty. Dumbledore was sitting beside him, hands still grasping his own. The twinkling blue was not visible, for his eyes were closed, though he was sure the old man was not asleep. Mcgonagall was staring at him, though her eyes were unseeing. There was a sticky wetness in his hands, the blood, he knew. The shame. The agony had been intense, and his whole mind had been set in hiding the pain. But their words were echoing in his ears, the shocked silences, the imagined images (for his eyes had been closed).

Albus opened his eyes and set them on Snape.

'How're you feeling Severus?'

The old man whispered finally as Severus disentangled their hands carefully and held them before him, blood dripping on the white bedsheets.

'Better thank you.'

'You gave us quite a scare young man.'

Snape didn't respond, but stared pointedly at Mcgonagall. Disgusted at himself for his rudeness. But why had Dumbledore had to bring her along? Just to add another witness to his moment of shame and misery. And now she knew. Minerva pursed her lips at his attitude and glared back, though there was also something akin to pity in her piercing eyes.

'Good evening Severus.'

'Good evening.'

He replied stiffly. He would not be able to speak to her again, converse with her without seeing that pity in her eyes. That knowing glance of simpathy.

'I'll get Madam Pomfrey to check you over again and clean your wounds.'

She said suddenly and hurried to fetch the Hogwarts matron. Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, her eyes still wide with shock.

'Ah- you're awake. Poor boy, quite an attack you had back there. Let's see you over then, shall we?'

Without waiting for any comfirmation of agreement, her wand was out, tutting in an annoying way. With the ease of experience she tended the cuts in his hands, cleaning them carefully and sprinkling a light blue potion before spelling them away. Snape remained silent as she did this, feeling most light-headed and weak. Which made him feel considerably angry, remembering inevitably those times his father had beat him or submitted him to the Cruciatus as a child. He slumped back on his pillow feeling faint, eyelashes fluttering agaisnt the dark shadows under his eyes.

'When was the last time you ate?'

The voice rang in his ears, pounding through his mind like a hammer clanging agaisnt a metal door.

'A-a day and a half ago...I believe.'

He replied weakly, his head swimming.

'No wonder you're fainting like that. You must get something to eat immediatly, since you refuse to let me...'

'Hush Poppy. I'll feed him now.'

Dumbledore interrupted, his voice kind but firm. Madam Pomfrey frowned in slight anger but left all the same, for she could not refuse the Headmaster.

'I'll be right next door if there's any emergency Headmaster.'

She grumbled as her footsteps flapped away. Severus felt a sudden coolness pressing lightly on his wrist and opened his eyes blearedly to see Dumbledore taking his pulse before setting himself comfortably on the edge of the bed.

'So what would you like to eat dear boy?'

The old man asked kindly.

'I've never really known what your favorite food was,'

Snape forced his eyes to snap open and was dissapointed to see Mcgonagall was still there, though she seemed to be watching silently from the foot of the bed.

'Anything light...I'm not much hungry.'

Dumbledore frowned slightly for a moment, then hooked his benign smile back on. Minerva waved her wand around suddenly a produced a steaming bowl of warm broth.

'How about some meat broth then?'

'F-fine.'

Dumbledore placed the bowl on his lap and dipped a spoon into the savoury liquid. The old hand didn't waver however as it led the food to Severus' mouth. Snape opened to protest, for though he was not feeling well enough to hold a pin he was not about to let the Headmaster feed him like that. But Dumbledore took advantage and slipped in.

'Headmaster I must protest. I will feed myse-'

Snape gave in as Dumbledore cast him a stern look and kept refilling the spoon and guiding it towards him. The bowl was nearly empty when he waved his hand for the old man to stop.

'Come on Severus. Just a few more spoonfuls.'

The kind voice coaxed softly with pleading eyes. Snape grimaced and shook his head.

'I do not think I could hold anymore.'

He whispered, his stomach grumbling with pleasure.

'Very well. But perhaps in a while you could handle some warm cocoa?'

Dumbledore smiled as Mcgonagall snorted at his comment and she banished the bowl away.

'Now Severus. I've been thinking.' Dumbledore paused, 'Perhaps, it would be better if you actually presented the potion before the appointed time. Pleasing Voldemort and avoiding further torture?'

Mcgonagall started slightly at the name, but inched foward all the same.

'I do think it might be a good idea.'

Snape frowned.

'When would before be?'

'Tomorrow. If you're feeling well enough. Keep in mind that this is your choice Severus. But I've been giving it some serious thought, and it might possibly avoid you his displeasure...'

Severus swallowed uneasily and then nodded. Yes, it might be a good idea after all. Though he was not sure the man would be so easy to please...and yet, it was a possibility. Anyways, if he was going to be tortured what was the use of postponing it.

'Fine. I will take it to him tomorrow.'