Part II

I never reach my indecision
to let you see again all I give you
I'm sick of feeding your attention,
knowing I never did. I distress you
Taking and breaking and hating
I remember all you said to me now
Faking, forsaking and failing
my memories are all stained again.
"Needles," Seether

Severus got up and threw something – he had no idea what – into the fire, furious. He tried to purge his mind, his soul, his existence of Harry, angry that he had ever cared, ever tried to help Harry.

'He was just like you – scared, abused, and determined,' his mind whispered.

He couldn't shut that up, although he did try. He had let Harry waltz in, steal his heart and then… nothing. Harry waltzed back out, screaming and fighting all the way.

Severus had done everything Harry had asked of him… He had gone to all of those damned Ministry functions, he had endured all of the unwanted publicity, he had fought with the parents who wanted him removed from the teaching staff, he had done every damn thing for Harry.

Severus, furious and rejected, picked up whatever was breakable and unprotected in the room and smashed it. He tore apart his room. Suddenly he dropped onto the ground, coughing and spasming. He arched his back and took a few deep breaths.

He couldn't move. He knew that his life was almost over, that last attack was proof enough. His legs weren't functioning, although his arms still were. He reached for his wand and pointed at the fire, muttering a spell. The fire turned bright green. "Albus," he rasped. "Help me."

Albus stepped through the fire. "My dear boy, what's the matter?" he asked, shocked.

"Help me up."

Albus pulled out his wand and levitated Severus, placing him gently in the armchair. "Can you get up?" Albus asked, clearly worried.

Severus shook his head. "I don't think my legs can work any more."

Albus conjured a staff. "Let's see if either one of them work. Here, let me help you."

Severus looked at Albus, shocked. "I couldn't ask you to let me lean on you."

Albus chuckled. "I'm not as old as you think. Bah! I have some life in me yet. C'mon, do your old friend a favor and get up. Help yourself out occasionally."

"Not at someone else's expense."

Albus' eyes narrowed, frustrated. "Severus, my boy, one of these days you'll have to see that not everything I want to do to help you is at my expense. Now get up and help yourself. I need to know if one of your legs is functioning."

Severus nodded and leaned on Albus' left shoulder, taking the cane in his left hand. "Try to go to the door," Albus ordered gently.

Severus did, his left leg giving out immediately. He fell down on the ground, biting his lip to keep himself from screaming in pain.

"That's okay, Severus. Try the other leg."

With considerable help from Albus, Severus got back on his feet and switched the hand the cane was in. He took a cautious step forward, then another, until he reached the door.

"Come back," Albus called.

Severus nodded, feeling incredibly like a young baby taking his first steps. Finally reaching his armchair, Severus sank into it, rubbing his right leg in an attempt to loosen the muscles.

Albus sighed and sat down in the chair opposite to Severus'. "At least one of your legs still works," Albus noted reluctantly.

"But my other doesn't," Severus whispered. He had relied on the use of both his legs his entire life. His body used to be strong and agile, but no longer. He knew he was weak.

"Severus," Albus hemmed. "Don't think of yourself as weak or unfit. You're still a brilliant man."

"But I won't be able to spend an entire day brewing potions, I won't ever be able to take a leisurely stroll in the Forbidden Forest alone for fear of losing my other leg and dying there, I won't ever be able to sweep in to a room dramatically or terrify a student with silent footsteps. Instead, this clunking noise will follow me for the rest of my short life. After ten, fifteen minutes of brewing, I will not be able to stand any longer. I can't ever be outside in nature alone – what if my leg fails and I have no way of returning?"

"Before this, you could do ten thousand things. Now you can only do nine thousand. Now, instead of mourning the loss of those thousand things, take a deep breath and appreciate the fact that you're still alive. Fate has deemed that you should survive this attack, and with a little luck, Fate may deem that you should triumph over this poison. That is, if you're still fighting it with the same vigor, same fervor you used to fight it with."

Severus sighed defeatedly. "That's just the thing, Albus. I'm not. I can't fight it that strongly anymore. All I hear is Harry's voice, flinging insult after insult at me. All I hear is that last slam of the door as he stomped out. All I hear is his rejection. I loved him, Albus, more than anything in this world. And I can't bear to let go."

"Fight for him. Fight that disease for him. Keep battling that disease for him. Let your anger at him, at his rejection, fuel your fight for your life."

"But there is no point for me to live anymore," Severus half-whispered.

Albus sighed. "What about your students? Who will bludgeon that knowledge of potions into them? Who is as good as you are? What about your friends?"

"I have none." It was a statement, quietly said, without any self-pity.

"Ridiculous! What about me? Am I not your friend?"

Severus nodded slowly.

"Minerva? She loves you as much as I do. She cares very deeply for you, my boy. The entire staff loves you. You might not see it yet, but they do. They all respect your knowledge and ability, and some of them are still slightly wary of you and your acerbic tongue, especially the new DADA teacher, but that is beside the point. Many people in the Order still care deeply about you. Severus, as much as you might like to think so, you are not alone in this world. You simply aren't. So pick yourself up and fight this bloody disease. And while you're at it, stop writing those letters to people to be delivered upon your death. Because you won't have a need for them for another fifty, sixty years, and you certainly won't need the letter to me then. I'll be gone by then."

Severus stared at Albus, gobsmacked. "How did you know about those letters?"

Albus chuckled. "I saw the one addressed to me lying on your desk. I put the quill back in its place, by the way. I don't know why you left it on the floor."

Severus cleared his throat nervously.

"Also, why don't you publish your poetry and journals before you die? They'll never be relevant if you wait that long."

Severus sighed. "I'll have to think about that one."

"You'll need a cane to get around, of course, unless you prefer a wheelchair."

Severus sputtered. "I need a walking aid?"

Albus nodded sadly. "I'm afraid so, dear friend. You haven't been fighting as hard as you have been for too long. You're letting the disease take control, instead of the other way around. Close your mind to the disease and force it out of your body. You can do it."

"Apparently I can't."

"You can. Now, I'll need to conjure you a cane that will fit your arm perfectly. Even the slightest discomfort could prevent you from fighting the disease with all your might."

"Now I'm starting to feel like an old man," Severus sighed.

Albus nodded. "I know, Severus. I know. Keep your mind trained on something – someone – you love, and fight."

"What – who – can I think about?"

"Your love of Potions springs to mind. Your friends. If it has to be anger that fuels you, then Voldemort. The Death Eaters. Rape. Murder. Torture. Hate. If it must be frustration, then your students. Your job. My meddling. The disease. Harry. Think about, my friend. Anything that gives you strength is something that can help you fight. You just have to be willing to help yourself fight."

Severus sighed. "Fine, Albus, I'll try."

Albus smiled wanly and conjured the staff for Severus. "I'll go now and let you accustom yourself to the new trials ahead of you. Just don't forget to fight, Severus."

Cane in hand, Severus walked Albus to the door. "And Severus, while you can't stand and brew all day, you may certainly walk in the woods. Bow your head."

Severus did so, confused. Around his neck Albus slipped a silver chain with a small, silver pendant that looked like a burning fire around his neck. "If ever you should fall, and you can't get out, call my name and grasp the pendant. I'll come to you."

Albus turned and left. Severus stared after him, an unwanted tear sliding out of his eye and down his face.