You have all read the A/N at the beginning of the prologue, haven't you? So you all know of the OOC-warning, yes? I allow myself to portrait 'my' Severus as rather …human. You have been warned… ;)

My sincere thanks go (as always) to Persephone Lupin and lucidity for beta and their priceless encouragement!

I produced a humble illustration that goes along with this chapter – if you are interested, it can be found under wwwdotxiaoguidottk or on my gallery at deviantArt: xiaoguidotdeviantartdotcom.

Furthermore, I feel very flattered that Einheitstochter, one of my very favourite fanart-artists got inspired by this fic to paint a picture for me – please have a look at her brilliant and very unusual works at einheitstochterdotdeviantartdotcom:)

Ok… Melodrama Extraordinaire continues with Part 2… (runs and hides behind shrubbery)

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Dawning

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Eucalyptus… Lavender… Rosewood…

The well-known, comforting fragrances of the herbs and essential oils slowly pervaded the ill Slytherin's consciousness, gently lifting it up to the surface of reality. It felt like the first invigorating draw of breath after coming up from the deep of the ocean; like a fresh spring-breeze after a long day in the potions vapours of the humid school-dungeons.

Snape's mind associated the aromatic odours with the hospital wing, and almost with pleasure his nose inhaled the flavoursome scents that cleared his senses. His memory once again returned to the dark places of his past, the existence of which his subconscious had tried to suppress already for so long. The life behind the mask – was it really that long ago? Had he finally expiated for his acts and mistakes? No, he thought bitterly, there is no expiation for murder. And murdered he had – human life erased under the shadow of a skull, floating on the night sky.

Tenderly, he tried to shift, only to realise the impossibility of moving his weary body, which lay heavy in the soft cushions of the sick bed. His leg hurt… and his head… How long had he slept? He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy and puffy. A sharp pain under his skullcap made him hiss involuntarily. Furrowing his brow, he tried to remember what had happened. Like apparitions in his mind, he remembered a concerned Madam Pomfrey. The curse… and some obscure silhouettes in the mist. Kingsley... Albus… The constant pounding in this leg and skull made him moan quietly. The Dark Lord… Forgiveness…

Catching the sound of low voices, he sighed softly. He thanked Paracelsus for those insurmountable shadows of the past being just a dream. Paces became audible; somebody came close and reached for his hand. The Potions Master tried to open his weary eyes, once again without success.

"Severus…?" he heard the deep voice of Kingsley.

Snape opened his mouth, but no sound made it over his parched lips. Instead, he managed a weak squeeze of the hand that was lying in his.

"Thank Merlin…" the Auror breathed a sigh of relief.

"Severus…" he heard Madam Pomfrey say. "Don't try to speak yet. You suffered from traumatic fever for quite some days and must not strain yourself." The voice of the healer displayed relief as well.

The ill wizard felt a cool, damp cloth gently wipe over his face and eyes, cooling and comforting him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked into the faces of Kingsley and Madam Pomfrey, bending over him.

"Would you like some water?" the nurse asked, reaching for the glass on the nightstand.

While Madam Pomfrey instilled the cool liquid, Snape slowly felt his vigour return.

"You look much better now, my friend," Kingsley said, an encouraging smile on his lips. "We have been very worried about you."

Snape noticed that Kingsley wore his usual dark robe again. Apparently he was better, although he still carried his arm in a sling.

"Are you in pain?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Headache…" the ill wizard breathed, nearly inaudible.

"Yes, I expected that, Severus," the nurse answered. "The last days have been very straining for your body; a headache was to be expected." She fumbled at the infusion, which dangled above Snape's head. "I will set the dosage on a bit higher level. That should ease the headache."

"My leg…" he mouthed, his brow furrowing in pain.

Meeting the gaze of the healer, he noticed an unreadable expression on her face. A puzzled look dawning on his features, he opened his mouth. While he cleared his throat and started moving his lips, he recognised the expression as sorrow. Sorrow…?

"What's… the matter?" he finally managed to say, his voice a hoarse rasp.

Madam Pomfrey and Kingsley exchanged a meaningful glance, and the nurse was evidently struggling for words. Yet she didn't answer.

Snape felt the grip of Kingsley's hand tighten slightly – as if the Ravenclaw had braced his posture out of unconscious reflex. He became more and more anxious; his gaze broke away from the healer's eyes and started to search the room. Something was wrong here, as a voice told him in the back of his mind.

And then he saw it. Or more precise – what was left of it. His eyes widened in disbelief, staring at the heavily bandaged stump, which protruded from under the duvet, supported by a pillow.

"Wh..what..?" he exhaled quietly.

Snape's brain refused to process the information sent by his sense of sight. No. No, that couldn't be. It was not …correct. Seeking for help his eyes shifted towards Kingsley, whose eyes were shimmering with moisture. The Auror swallowed and lowered his gaze.

"Severus, I…" Madam Pomfrey began hesitantly.

As if in slow motion Snape turned his head and looked at the healer, but his pupils did not focus. Abruptly, the catenations in his brain formed, causing growing dizziness. Like from a far distance he heard Madam Pomfrey's voice, while his vision blurred.

"…so sorry… please forgive… only option…"

His leg… it was gone… gone… Slowly he shook his head, stunned to the bone.

"…to save your life, Severus."

Obsidian eyes locked with hazel ones, making the healer freeze.

"Poppy…" the Slytherin whispered, still shaking his head in disbelief. "You chopped off my leg."

"Severus…" the healer tried another attempt to explain. "It was the only option left. The after-effects of the curse had somehow infected the wound and that infection had started to radiate over your whole organism…"

"You were on the brink of death, Severus," Kingsley said, still holding on to his friend's hand.

"But… it hurts…"

"That's phantom pain, Severus," Madam Pomfrey stated, compassion written all over her face.

"And …now?" Snape whispered as if in trance

"After the amputation the fever dropped almost instantly, and now you have just a bit high temperature – at the most. After the removal of the source of infection, the specific after-effects of the curse apparently were gone as well," the nurse explained and lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry, Severus…" she added quietly.

"You promised…" the Slytherin said with a trembling voice, his eyes blinking unfocussed. "You promised that I will recover…"

The healer's eyes shimmered with moisture. "Severus… I'm so sorry. It was the only chance."

The ill Potions Master turned his head away and stared at the wall. The word 'cripple' sneaked into his thoughts. A quiet voice in his mind reminded him that losing a leg was arguably preferable to losing the life – nevertheless, his eyes started to fill with tears.

"Severus…" he heard Kingsley say.

"Leave me in peace…" came the choked retort. The low voice of reason finally became superposed by despair. He was going to drag out his pathetic existence as a cripple! Just as his eyes began to overflow, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He didn't want to look at Kingsley. Not now. He wanted to be alone, left alone in his misery. His shoulder flinched weakly; tried in vain to shake off the unwanted touch.

"Severus, please…" the Auror insisted. "It's not the end of the world. You will recover and certainly be able to live an almost normal life."

The Potions Master eventually turned his head and looked at Kingsley and Madam Pomfrey. "Is there any chance…" he began quietly, but the downcast head of the healer made his hopes die as fast as they had burgeoned.

"Even magical healing has its limits," she said, shaking her head sadly.

Snape thought of Moody. "What about a …substitution?" he whispered, defeated. The thought of words like 'prosthesis' or 'wooden leg' made him cringe inwardly in disgust. It was not long ago that he had sneered at the cranky old Auror.

"Well…" Madam Pomfrey said cautiously. "The acute infection had already spread out over the knee." She took a deep breath, as if she wanted to brace herself. "I couldn't save the knee joint, Severus. This means that the attachment of an artificial limb could prove rather difficult. There are some highly sophisticated Muggle variants, true, but the sensors and microprocessors therein…"

…render them useless in a magical environment like Hogwarts, the Slytherin continued in his thoughts, sighing bitterly. A disabled veteran like out of the textbook, at last… Crestfallen, he closed his eyes, the headache hammering under his skullcap.

The sound of a door being opened announced the arrival of yet another visitor, but Snape kept his eyes closed. He didn't want to see anyone, why couldn't they just leave him alone… The battle against the insistent tears became more and more difficult and he drew deep breaths while his chin began to tremble suspiciously. Kingsley still held on to his friend's hand. Once again, the Slytherin tried weakly to shake off the hand on his shoulder. Damn it, he thought, go away! Pulling all his strength together he managed a flinch of his shoulder to finally get rid of Kingsley's hands.

"How is Severus?" Snape heard the concerned voice of the Headmaster.

"He is awake," answered Madam Pomfrey quietly. "He is as well as could be expected."

Snape heard Dumbledore's paces drawing closer in his direction. Apparently Kingsley had yielded the chair to the Headmaster, who sat down beside the sick bed. The Potions Master kept his eyes tightly shut, desperately trying to fight back the tears, which carried on conglomerating insistently behind his clenched eyelids. He felt Albus' hand gently stroking over his head while a single tear pushed past black eyelashes to trickle down his cheek. A quiet sob escaped his lips; he opened his eyes and looked at the Headmaster, who was eying him with a sympathetic glance.

"I'm so sorry, child," he said quietly, and then bent down to gather the desperate wizard in his arms. The battle was lost, at last. The Slytherin pressed his head on the older man's chest, burying his face in the folds of the robe, his body finally convulsing in bitter sobs.

The old wizard held him tight and caressed gentle strokes over his damp hair, as Snape shed tears of despondence and despair. Although he leaned in the consoling embrace, he felt shame over his weakness. Only once in his adult life he had cried before another man – and that man had been Albus Dumbledore. It had been the night when he finally ate humble pie, crawling his way back into the light, back then, as a disenchanted Death Eater. In the dirt by the feet of the Hogwarts Headmaster and most powerful wizard of present times he had whimpered for forgiveness. It had not been forgiveness that could be granted, yet a second chance to atone for his acts and redeem him. Could this be the final expiation, the last punishment for his regrettable past…?

Eventually the tears had run dry. After freeing himself from the embrace, the exhausted Potions Master let himself be carefully reclined on the pillows by the Headmaster. His head pounded and he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. Knowing of all these pity-dripping eyes resting on him, he felt a slight blush arise on his face. He hated himself for his weakness.

A quiet clearing of the throat by Madam Pomfrey broke through the silence. "Severus…" she said. "You have got to rest a bit now to give the healing potions time to take effect."

Snape opened his eyes and watched wordlessly, as the healer approached and then fumbled at his right elbow, where she had placed the needle of the drip.

"The fracture of your upper arm is healing nicely, and I removed the bandage on your forehead as well," she explained, while she changed the bag of the drip and checked on the tube. "Unfortunately a scar will remain," she added in a regretful tone.

The Slytherin pressed his lips together and curled the corner of his mouth in bitterness, suppressing a sardonic laugh. Why, by the name of Merlin, would he be interested in a scar on his brow now! He glanced at the no longer existing limb, swallowing hard on the lump which was building anew in his throat.

Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and stood, pulling Snape out of his thoughts.

"I will come back later to look in on you, Severus," he said, an encouraging smile on his lips. "Now you have to rest a bit to regain some strength after these draining last days."

"Kingsley," he addressed the Auror. "Please come with me to my office, I would like to discuss something with you."

The Ravenclaw nodded curtly and then smiled at Snape. "Take a rest now, my friend. I'll drop by later."

They left the ward, leaving the Potions Master and Madam Pomfrey alone. The healer had obviously decided not to bother Snape even more with further talking, and attended the necessary works in professional silence. Her patient tried to withdraw his mind from his surroundings back into the depths of his consciousness – which proved less difficult than expected, given the utter exhaustion of his body. However, whenever his gaze met the nurses', he recognised the pity in her eyes. Only the deep and overwhelming sensation of discomfiture crawling up on him, as Madam Pomfrey attended to his most private matters retained him from snarling at her. Deep in his mind he knew of his irrationality and injustice towards the healer who had saved his life; yet his emotions betrayed him and kept dancing at the precipice. Peripherally, he observed that the changing of the dressings on his shoulder caused less pain than before and wondered whether that fact was due to the healing process or – more likely – a result of the immense dose of painkilling potions, which Madam Pomfrey undoubtedly had pumped into his system. Also, the headache was gone, as he noticed after a while.

Eventually, the healer turned to the stump and started to cautiously remove the bandages. Wordlessly, Snape surveyed her working while trying to keep control of his emotions. However – when Madam Pomfrey had finally removed the last gauze pad, opening the sight on the bare end halfway down his upper leg, yet another battle was lost. Chin and lips started trembling and tears found their path down his cheeks. The nurse, who had been watching him through the whole process out of the corners of her eyes, looked up and reached out for a handkerchief. Bending over him, she got ready to wipe away the tears.

A hoarse "No…" made her motions freeze. The Potions Master finally had enough – enough of exposing himself in weakness. That did it. Under utmost exertion he lifted his arm, each accomplished centimetre weighing a ton. His joints ached, after being immobile over long days of illness. Good, he thought, pain distracts from emotions. Finally, he managed to bring the shaking hand up to his face and wiped away the tears in an unstable move. While he slowly let his arm sink back on the bed, he blinked at Madam Pomfrey.

"Why, Poppy…?" he asked helplessly, addressing his fate rather than the nurse. "Why?"

Madam Pomfrey obviously recognised the rhetorical nature of the question, since she just lowered her gaze, sighing quietly.

While she attended to the stump with a healing salve and finally bandaged it again, the Potions Master kept his lips pressed together and his eyes tightly shut. He tried to move his consciousness away from the healer's fingers on the sensitive wound as far as possible. His senses retreated and returned only as he heard a noise coming from the nightstand beside the bed. Madam Pomfrey measured a couple of drops from a small vial onto a spoon, which she placed to his lips.

"Don't worry," she said, as Snape swallowed the medicine rather reluctantly. "It's just a light sedative. That was all a bit much for you to digest today, I know, Severus. I want you to sleep now to give your body a chance to recover and heal. And I'm afraid, you will not be able to do so – after all that has happened today," she added, while pulling the duvet up over his chest.

Snape sighed quietly, knowing that the healer was right.

"After you wake up again, I will give you something to eat. But now you should calm down and sleep a little."

While she examined him one last time, the ill Potions Master felt his spinning thoughts finally become subdued by exhaustion and fatigue, and slowly he closed his eyes.

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Some credits: The idea of Severus being able to close his mind to his (unpleasant) surroundings comes from the great fic "Of Killers and Traitors" by lilith11. Although Lilith used that in other circumstances, the idea itself was not mine originally.

I hope you were not too disappointed by the melodrama in this chapter. The next 2 chapters will be more tranquil ones with a lot of Kingsley-Severus-interaction and a little flashback on how these two found each other. And Sev's going to regain a little bit of his former self. :)