Disclaimer: see Chapter One

Chapter Eleven: Realization

Poppy bathed Remus with the tepid water, trying to bring down his fever. None of the potions were working now and she was having trouble getting him to drink. She had even asked Madam Pince to find her any books she could on Muggle healing methods. There must be options in case Severus' potion didn't work.

Remus' fevered body shuddered as Poppy gently washed his chest with the sponge. He squirmed uncomfortably, his head moving from side to side. He whimpered softly but did not awaken. Since Remus' confused episode he had not regained consciousness. She had had to increase the amount of oxygen that he was receiving through his mask and could raise it no more for fear of causing him brain damage.

Dipping the sponge into the basin she then wrung it out and put the sponge to Remus' fevered brow, to which he sighed softly. Deep in her heart, she worried that the potion Severus was brewing would come too late.

§§§§§§

Severus sprinkled the last ingredient into the simmering cauldron. Picking up the spoon, he stirred three times clockwise then three anti-clockwise. Now came the hardest part of the brewing, the wait. He set a timer for exactly fifty-two minutes.

He was alone, just as he preferred. Albus had gone to his office to catch up on his correspondence. Severus went through his methodical post-brewing ritual. First, he cleaned his workspace meticulously. Second, he prepared the potion vials and goblet, labeling the vials with his small yet legible handwriting. Third, he went to his private quarters to relax.

He opened the doors to his room and smiled, seeing that his things had been left just as they had been before he had been summoned. He ran a hand over his prized book collection, pulling out an ancient tome randomly from the shelf and running his fingertips over the gilded letters. Replacing the book, he then went over to the armchair near the hearth, his favorite chair. His violin case was still open; the precious Stradivarius still nestled in its case. It had been a gift from his mother on his sixteenth birthday, a family heirloom.

Mother. A sad smile spread across his features. As far as magical abilities went, she was only average, but she radiated an intense passion that drew people to her like moths to a flame. She adored music; it was her one true love. Calida Snape taught piano, violin and cello to pureblood children, as his father would not allow her to teach anyone else. Larkin Snape had been a fiercely jealous man and with good reason. Theirs was an arranged marriage and neither had ever been truly happy, or even faithful for that matter. Severus shook his head sadly. People who say that love will come later in an arranged marriage are deluded fools.

His mother had instilled a love of music in her only child. She adored the Muggles' classical music and believed that Wizardkind had neglected their artistic side to their detriment, focusing on the immediacy that magic could provide instead of on the joy of creating art for its own sake. She taught Severus about the great Muggle composers: Beethoven, Haydn, Mozart (his favorite), Rossini, Bach, Handel and scores of others. Whereas his contemporaries were listening to the latest music on the Wizard's Wireless, he and his mother would be cocooned in her study, taking one of her old vinyl records and putting it on her magical phonograph, perhaps playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons (Spring was her favorite). He treasured the moments alone with his mother. It was during this time that he felt closest to her, like he mattered to her. Mother focused on her only son during these all too brief sessions. The rest of the day she spent teaching other children or she was gone from the manor entirely. He selfishly wished she could spend all her time with him. Even at the tender age of four he would sit outside the closed door to her study and listen, his small hand and cheek pressed to the door in an effort to be close to her. Mother and music had always been synonymous in his mind, thinking of one evoked feelings of the other.

He could not understand why he had felt so empty when she died, so void of any emotions whatsoever. He had gone through the motions of preparing for her funeral and seeing that everything was taken care of in his usual efficient manner. He sat through her funeral, numb and dry-eyed, wondering if he was somehow abnormal.

Of his mother's many possessions the only things he kept were her phonograph and records. Sighing, Severus chose his mother's favorite record and placed it on the phonograph, sitting in the armchair near the hearth, a small smile on his lips. He allowed the music to take him back to the best memories of his life, before the Dark Lord, before Hogwarts, before father left. He was transported to a time when mother and son were together and the world was a wondrous place to be explored. His eyes drifted shut and he became entranced all over again, with music, with Mother.

Some time later he heard the timer from the next room. Sighing, he stood and crossed to the phonograph. He reached for the record's sleeve and was surprised to see Ron's freckled hand. I guess I'll have to switch bodies before I can indulge myself again.

It then struck him with the force of a rogue Bludger.

Mother of Merlin! My body is deaf! I'm deaf. I'll never hear music again. He felt suddenly very dizzy and stumbled back into the chair, his head swimming and heart racing. This can't be possible, it can't be happening. What is a life without music?

Albus stepped from the hearth and into Severus' lab. He heard the timer and silenced it, taking the potion off the fire to cool. "Severus?" There was no answer. A puzzled look crossed his craggy features and he crossed to the door separating the lab from the Potion Master's private quarters. "Severus?" Again receiving no response he slowly opened the door. Severus was there on the floor, album covers strewn about him. He was picking up record after record and smashing them over the edge of the table. "Severus, what are you doing?" asked Albus, as he grabbed a record from Severus' hands. The man inhabiting the teenage body looked up into Albus' blue gaze, tears streaming down his face. The Potions Master opened his mouth to speak and a heart-wrenching sob escaped. Albus was momentarily stunned to see Severus crying, a sight he had never before seen. The headmaster had wondered when the gravity of his situation would come home to his friend, apparently the time was now. Albus dropped to his knees and took the teenage body into his arms, hugging him tightly. "It's going to be all right, Severus. We'll get through this."

Severus clutched the older wizard's body like a drowning man would a lifeline. The feeling of loss was more acute than it had ever been. Without music he would lose that special connection he felt with his mother, without music he could not evoke the closeness they once shared, and without music he was now utterly and completely alone. The sobs shook his body so hard he vaguely wondered if someone could die from such intense sadness.

They knelt there together, Albus gently rocking his old friend. After several minutes Severus was able to speak, but even then his speech was choppy, broken by frequent gasps. "I'm…I'm so…sorry, Albus…I…I know w-we n-need to….g-get the… potion off …the fire."

"I took it off, Severus. We have some time while it cools."

Severus sat back on his heels. "This…d-damn body!…These bloody teenage hormones are driving me mad, making me so emotional."

Albus allowed his old friend to make excuses for his tears. Severus was a proud man and would not readily allow himself to be seen in such a vulnerable position, even by his best friend. "We'll get through this, you know."

A mirthless laugh escaped him. "Albus Dumbledore, the eternal optimist."

Albus frowned as he peered into his friend's borrowed face. Ron Weasley's body had never looked so old. "There is a researcher, Otis Graham, who has had some promising results with magical ears—"

"—Magical ears? I'm not an idiot, you know. I DO read. Magical ears are worthless…WORTHLESS!" Tears threatened to start falling again. Severus angrily wiped his freckled cheeks with his hands.

"Severus, my boy, we will get through this."

Severus ignored Albus' words. "What good is a life without music?" His eyes were drawn to his violin, still protected in its case. "I can play, but I'll never hear it." He held a tightly clenched fist to his chest as the pain cut through his heart like a knife. The sobbing began anew.

Albus felt tears streaming down his own face. Music? He knew how profoundly Calida Snape's death had affected Severus, as well as himself. Severus had pulled into himself and Albus had not been able to completely reach him since.

He clutched the red head close to his body. "We will find a way, Severus, whatever it takes. I promise you." He then found his own sobs matching those of his anguished friend.

§§§§§§

Ron looked in the hand mirror, not in the least pleased with what he saw. Madam Pomfrey had just finished regrowing the teeth that had been extracted. They were perfect and ivory-coloured, not at all like the rest of his teacher's teeth, which had been yellowed by a steady diet of strong tea. "These look odd." Baring his teeth he moved his head from side to side to better view the mouth from different angles.

Madam Pomfrey placed her fists on her hips. "I'm not about to make those beautiful new teeth yellow, so don't even think about it." she huffed.

Ron smiled broadly as he read her response, the smile highlighting the unevenly hued teeth. "Could you fix them up, make them all white and straight?"

Madam Pomfrey put a hand to her mouth. "I couldn't do that to Severus without his knowledge. He's not one to care much for his personal appearance." She glanced around the room, a guilty flush creeping across her cheeks. "He wouldn't want them to be different colours either, though." She bit her lower lip as her mind reeled with possibilities. Nodding, she took the mirror from Ron's hand. "We're going to do this right!"

A short time later Ron marveled at the new teeth as he looked into the mirror. It made his stern teacher look years younger. Wow! I'm almost good-looking, except for that nose. He wrinkled his nose in distaste and ran a finger over the hawk-like appendage. He glanced at Poppy and smiled.

"Oh no you don't young man." She shook her finger in his face. "That nose is a much a part of him as his voice, or his hands."

Reading her response, Ron pretended to pout and then flashed another brilliant smile. "What about the hair?"

§§§§§§

Severus ladled the correct amount of cooled potion into the goblet and saved the rest in vials for stock. Considering Mr. Weasley's total ineptitude with potion brewing his body had worked quite well. I guess the boy's problem isn't physical. He and Albus then Flooed to the hospital wing. The room was almost empty. Remus still lay in his bed but the other was empty and Poppy was missing as well. While Severus remained with Remus, Albus went in search of the others.

Ron and Poppy emerged from the bathroom, smelling faintly of sandalwood and spices. The scent was reminiscent of the oily hair potion that Poppy had been trying to get Severus to try for ages. The Potion Master's head snapped up, Poppy would not meet his eyes. That little minx! He watched her help his body back to bed.

"Clearly you've been keeping yourself busy, Poppy!" he spat, lips a thin line.

She flushed guiltily. "There's no time for squabbling now, Severus. I take it the potion is ready?"

"Of course."

Poppy took the goblet from him and removed the mask from Remus' face. She unsuccessfully attempted to awaken the lycanthrope with gentle pats to his cheek. Albus then bent down and tried to rouse him by talking in his ear. Remus' eyelids fluttered but he was not lured away from sleep. Severus told him in a loud voice to wake up. As he heard Ron's creaking voice he did not think it would work and it did not.

"Should I use an Enervate?" asked Albus. He touched the wizard's shoulder and was surprised at how much heat was emanating from the fevered body.

"That seems so harsh. Let's exhaust everything else first." Poppy began patting his cheek again.

Severus smirked, shaking his head, and went over to Ron. He conjured a piece of parchment and wrote on it, handing it to…himself.

Ron read through the parchment twice and then smiled.

"Merlin! Are those my teeth!" Severus glared at Poppy's back. His eyes narrowed and he then motioned for Ron to read aloud what he had written.

Ron, in a loud booming baritone, read the parchment. "Wake up, werewolf!"

Remus' eyes snapped open. "What? What?" He saw Poppy and Albus standing over him. He then saw Ron close by, his arms over his chest, smirking. Severus lay in the other bed, grinning and waving at him. Sweet Merlin, I've lost my mind! He closed his eyes and tried to relax as Poppy slowly gave him sips of the potion.

"You should start to feel better shortly." Poppy smoothed Remus' hair back from his face and sat the goblet beside his bed.

The lycanthrope lay still, trying to relax. He was relieved to find that his breathing was becoming easier and that he no longer needed the mask. The temperature of the room felt like it was dropping so he assumed that his fever was going down. He smiled weakly and muttered his thanks before sleep took him again.

Satisfied that Remus would recover, Albus took Severus' arm. "It's time, child."

For an instant Severus had the irrational urge to flee and keep this body, even if the hair was red. He mentally shook himself. He could not take the boy's future like that. He should not have to pay for my sins; he doesn't deserve it. He allowed himself to be led to the bed where his old body lay.

"Take his hands and close your eyes, Severus." Albus watched as the two took hands. He then said the incantation that returned them to their bodies.

Ron's face brightened as he grinned and patted his chest. "I'm me again!" He picked up the mirror from the bedside table and smiled at the familiar face.

Severus could not stand to watch the child's youthful joy any longer. He frowned and rolled onto his side, facing away from everyone.

Albus put a hand on his old friend's shoulder, gently rubbing it.

Ron bounded over to Poppy. "Can I go now? I feel fine."

The mediwitch smiled at him. "Your body needs to rest. I'd rather you stay another day and go tomorrow."

"Madam Pomfrey," he wheedled, "I'll take it easy today, just lounge around in the common room, if you want." He reached out to touch her arm lightly. "Please?"

"Your mother might want you to go back home with her. She was held up today when your brothers had their 'accident' at the joke shop." Molly had owled earlier, saying that Fred and George had been involved in a small explosion while testing a new product. They were doing well and would be released from St. Mungos by this afternoon.

"GO HOME! No bloody way!"

"Your mother does have the power to pull you from the school."

"Can't I just go for now? I can talk to mum when she gets here. Please?"

Poppy knew that it would be better to release him so the patients who needed her time could get it and so that Ron would not drive her insane. "You are to come here the moment you are summoned. You are not to attend any classes today, just rest and take a nice nap. And, I expect to see you in the Great Hall for the evening meal. Is this understood?"

Ron nodded vigorously and shot out of the room quickly, before she could change her mind.

§§§§§§

Lucius' blond hair was snatched back roughly as the Dark Lord's cold breath touched his ear. "Should I kill you now, Lucius?"

As much as his body screamed 'yes' he knew that Voldemort would not be so merciful as that. "No, my Lord, forgive me, Lord."

Another rough yank and his hair was released, his head to lolling forward. He was chained on his knees, arms out straight to the sides. He had no strength left to even hold up his head. Please let me die. Let me die!

"You deeply disappoint me, Lucius."

"Yes, Lord. I'm not worthy of you."

"As much pleasure as I would gain from killing you, I think you may still be of some use to me." He yanked the hair back again, so he could stare into the swollen gray eyes. "Would you like to redeem yourself, Lucius?"

"Yes, Lord," he croaked. "I'll do anything, anything at all."

"Your child and wife are hidden from me. Your blood hides from me. I want them. I want them to be an example to others who would even think about betraying me. Are you willing to help?"

"Yes, I'll kill them for—"

"—I did not tell you to kill them!" He yanked the blond hair back again, causing Lucius to yelp in pain.

"Whatever you desire, my Lord." He gritted out through clenched teeth, as tears of pain streamed down his cheeks.

"Wormtail, bring me the book." Voldemort's minion quickly passed the book to him. Voldemort held the book in front of Lucius' face. "Do you know this book?"

It was from Lucius' own library, Blood Spells. No spell from this Dark Magic book could be performed without…well, blood. He nodded; dreading the words he was sure would follow.

"We will perform the scrying spell for your blood. Since there is no one currently living whom is from your bloodline…" he saw Lucius' confused look and grinned. "You cannot count your sister anymore, Lucius…Anyway, since there is no one LIVING from your bloodline except you and Draco it should be relatively simply to scry for his location." Voldemort held out his hand and Wormtail handed him a sharp ceremonial dagger. Its hilt was made of human bone with scrimshaw detailing of ancient runes and Dark symbols. "Hold him still Wormtail, this may take a while."

§§§§§§

§§§§§§