My sincere thanks go (as always) to my wonderful betas Persephone Lupin (original version) and lucidity (translation)!

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Incandescence

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Snape woke early the following morning. The exhaustion from the previous day and the sleeping potion had let him fall into a deep, dreamless and unusually long slumber long before the sunset.
The sun was not dawning yet, and the last silvery threads of the full moon light of a clear October night pervaded the infirmary.

While listening to the quiet breathing of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was still sleeping soundly at this early hour, Snape noticed the deep quietness that lay over the school. Not that it would have ever been particularly noisy in these early morning hours – still, the audible sounds had been few these past two days. No racket from gabbling students trampling through the corridors, no clamour of, the school-brooms maltreating Quidditch teams not far away on the grounds – it was just …quiet.

He could get used to that silence though, the ill Potions Master thought, sighing quietly. He made a mental note to ask the Headmaster about the scheduled start of term. At length there had to be exams and graduations this year too, and since the start of term was delayed because of the escalation of the war, the missed classes had to be caught up. Gingerly shifting his position, a pain seared through his shoulder and reminded him effectively that he would not be up to teaching anyway, regardless of when or if the students returned eventually.

Snape let his gaze wander through the dusky ward. Apparently he and Kingsley were the only patients in the infirmary of the school, which did not come as a surprise, given the fact that school had not started yet. On the other hand – why was Kingsley here of all places? Snape never wished to be treated by anyone else other then Poppy and it was no secret that he despised unacquainted healers and hospitals in particular like a vampire a sunbeam. So it was only a logical conclusion for Albus and Minerva to bring him here – he was a teacher at this school after all. Kingsley, though… It was safe to assume he was not the only Auror wounded, so why was he here at Hogwarts and not with his peers?

The gaze of the Slytherin fell upon his injured leg, which had again been gently placed upon two thick pillows after the ordeal of changing the bandages the previous day. Eventually the nurse's uncommon interest in muggle medicine – a subject within magical healers' education, which rarely ever outreached the most rudimentary basics – had come to pay off. "Butcher" he had named her sneeringly once. Who would have thought that it would be him of all people, to benefit from that eccentricity – what a sheer twist of fate…

To his left the soft sound of snoring drew the Potions Master's ear, and he turned his head towards the sleeping Kingsley. In this moment he almost felt grateful for the fact that his friend was with him. And yes, he had to admit, that Kingsley was indeed a friend – a rather new experience. He had never had any friends in his life. Musing over the voice of the Sorting Hat he had listened to nearly thirty years ago now, he snorted in disgust. "Real friends" he would make in Slytherin – the hat obviously had a rather cynical perception of friendship. People he had considered his friends had just used him for their own purposes or had become his enemies later on. The sole being besides Albus Dumbledore in whose hands he would lay his life without turning a hair, was the tall Ravenclaw, of all people, peacefully slumbering in that bed over there.

Slowly but steadily day was dawning. The first flimsy sunbeams of a clear autumn day intruded the ward, dunking it into coppery light. Snape tried not to think of his aching limbs. Madam Pomfrey had removed the needle of the drip the day before and the painkilling potion had lost most of its effect. Since even the slightest motion caused pain, he tried to withdraw his pain perception to the innermost part of his subconscious. Succeeding, he again slowly drifted away into relieving sleep.

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A rumbling noise woke Snape from a weird dream, in which green flashes of light were chasing him through the school corridors down to his classroom. Cold sweat glittered on his face when his mind jerkily returned to reality. Taking deep breaths, he turned his head and identified the noise coming from Kingsley, who was being helped into a warm dressing gown by Madam Pomfrey. Seeing Snape awake, the Auror smiled.

"Good morning, Severus. Did you sleep well? How do you feel today?"

"So-so," the Slytherin forced out a hardly discernible smile. "What are you doing, Kingsley?"

"Poppy ordered me to go for a morning walk in the sunlight. Seems like she is under the impression that I'm a little pale lately," the black Auror twinkled towards the nurse.

"Alright now, off you go, Kingsley," Madam Pomfrey resolutely shooed the broadly grinning wizard to the door. "You can continue chatting a little later; I've got to look after Severus now."

Waving his bedridden friend goodbye, the Auror slipped out of the door. The nurse approached Snape's bed. "Good morning, Severus. How are you feeling? Could you sleep through the night?" she asked, now again in the considerate tone of an experienced healer.

"I woke briefly before sunrise, but there were no other special occurrences."

"Aside from the nightmare you apparently had," the nurse stated dryly, dabbing the sweat from Snape's forehead and upper lip. "Are you in pain?"

"Yes, Poppy," the ill Slytherin sighed. "Ever since I woke up." He felt miserable.

"I'll give you something for the pain after you drink some tea at least," the nurse answered and placed her hand on his forehead. "Your temperature has risen again," she said, arching an eyebrow in concern. She left the ward and came back after a short while, carrying a tray with a cup of tea and a small vial. After placing the tray onto the nightstand, she turned towards Snape again.

"You have got sit up a bit now, Severus," she said. "I'll help you."

Carefully supporting her patient's torso with her left arm, the nurse flicked her wand to slowly raise the head of the bed. Snape pressed his lips together not to groan in pain, and his hand instinctively reached for the injured shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Madam Pomfrey said sympathetically, while she rearranged the bedclothes. The Potions Master breathed heavily and then let the nurse instil the strong, black tea.

"Albus will return from London the day after tomorrow," Madam Pomfrey told him, as she uncorked the vial. "He sent an owl, telling me that he will appear in court to give testimony against the Death Eaters who fought you."

"I assume that I am excused from the summons…" Snape said sarcastically, frowning at his injured leg.

"…as well as Kingsley, yes," Madam Pomfrey stated while placing the vial to his lips. The wizard swallowed the potion and once again grimaced shuddering. He had never been aware of the abysmally vile taste of this brewage. In his head he scanned a list of possible ingredients that could improve the taste of the concoction.

However – despite the awful flavour, the potion once again proved effective. The pain in his limbs diminished a little, as Snape discovered with a sigh of relief.

While Madam Pomfrey was busy ordering a light meal for the Potions Master from the kitchen elves, the door to the ward opened and an infectiously cheerful Kingsley stuck his head in.

"Guess who I met on my stroll and certainly had to drag along right away," he said in his deep voice and with a twinkle in his eyes as he entered the room, followed by Minerva McGonagall.

"Good morning, Severus," the Gryffindor greeted her younger colleague. "I just came back from London as I ran into Kingsley."

"Minerva," Snape nodded curtly. He was glad she didn't ask him about how he was feeling, since that question increasingly got on his nerves. He would hardly admit it to himself, but he did not feel quite well – regardless of the fact that the pain killing potion most likely had reached its full grade of efficiency in the meantime.

"I was not aware of you being to London as well," Snape mentioned, somewhat surprised.

"I have been to London, yes, together with Pomona Sprout. While Albus cleared the official business at the ministry, we…" She lowered her head and sighed. "We enquired about the …now vacant professorships."

Casting a glance at Kingsley, Snape noticed that his face fell with the declaration of the Gryffindor, an expression of deep dolefulness spreading over the previously light-hearted features. Apparently Kingsley hadn't known the reasons for McGonagall's trip to London either.

"Have you been successful?" Snape forced himself to ask, though not looking at his colleague.

McGonagall swallowed and strained herself into a neutral tone. "Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank will take over Hagrid's responsibilities from now on; Professor Vector is going to be the new Ravenclaw Head of House…" The voice of the usually stern witch faded, while she visibly fought back her tears. Snape's features remained unreadable, as he persevered staring at the opposite wall.

"What about Defence against the Dark Arts?" he enquired quietly. Already out of habit he had applied for the job in June and, arguably out of habit as well, the Headmaster had declined his request.

"We haven't found a suitable candidate yet," McGonagall answered. "Remus, however, had asked to think it over…"

Oh joy, Snape thought sarcastically, hearing the name of the werewolf. Although the animosities between him and the last existing Marauder had decreased since the death of Sirius Black, a status that could be named a "harmonious coexistence" was still far off.

"…but Albus is currently thinking on suspending the subject until an optimal solution is found," McGonagall continued. "Classes will start again in two weeks."

"But Severus cannot…" Kingsley began, after giving a glance over to his injured friend.

"Severus will not be able to teach in a month either, if I assess the situation correctly," the Gryffindor cut in on the Auror. "Isn't that right, Poppy?"

"I cannot be certain about it yet, but I would assume of a convalescence of two months at the least, given what we currently know."

The Potions Master cleared his throat softly, while his black eyes shot a venomous glance at the people debating over his sick bed. "If you would please become aware of the fact that I am still in this room as well…" His mood had lowered towards the zero-point and he felt more and more worn out.

"I am sorry, Severus," Minerva said, unusually subdued. "I know this must be a difficult time for you."

"Who is going to replace me?" Snape asked.

"Pomona will cover Potions classes in the meantime, until you are able to teach again."

A shy squeak interrupted the discussion, right before the Potions Master could fire out a biting remark about the in his opinion, insufficient qualifications of the herb-witch. A house-elf was standing on the doorsteps, holding up a tray of food.

"Oh! Thank you, Winky." Madam Pomfrey hurried over to receive the tablet.

"I have got to leave you now anyway, there is a pile of work still waiting to be done," McGonagall sighed. "If I get any news, I'll let you know," she said, while turning towards the door. "Please keep me informed about Severus' condition, Poppy. I hope you get better soon, Severus!"

With that, she nodded a curt good-bye and swept out of the ward.

"I think, I will go to bed again," yawned Kingsley, while marching over to his bed. "Don't worry about my lunch, Poppy; I already paid a visit to my old friends in the kitchens." He winked at Snape, as he climbed back into the bed. "It's always beneficial to stay on good terms with the kitchen-elves."

Snape suppressed a moan. He really was not in the mood for Kingsley's jokes now. Despite of the potion the nurse had administered, his leg had started hurting again in dull throbs, which radiated all over the right side of his body. He felt sick and miserable.

Madam Pomfrey put the tablet on the nightstand, surveying the ill wizard with a worried glance, and then placed a hand on his forehead.

"Severus! You are literally burning up!"

The Slytherin sighed softly, curling his lip in pain. This witch did not reveal any secret he did not already know.

The nurse drew out her wand and moved it slowly over Snape's body, pressing her lips together in deep concentration. "That's strange…" she mumbled. "The wound on your forehead and the fracture of the arm have started to heal. But your leg…"

"Yes..?" Snape asked quietly, sounding alarmed.

"It seems like the injury is not healing," Madam Pomfrey answered slowly. "Like if it…" Moving her wand over the leg, she frowned. "…like if the wound is all inflamed."

Snape stared at the nurse, burgeoning panic glinting in his eyes. "What does that mean?"

The corner of Madam Pomfrey's mouth twitched, as if deliberating about something to come to a final decision. "This means that I have to remove the bandages forcloser examination of the wound," she answered and directed her paces towards the cupboard, where she stored dressings and other utensils.

The ill wizard breathed hard and closed his eyes, while the meal on the bedside table slowly turned cold.

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