Many thanks go to my wonderful betas Persephone Lupin and lucidity!
o
Fading
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After Madam Pomfrey had tucked Snape back in and shooed Kingsley and the Headmaster out of the ward, she took a chair and sat down beside the bed.
"I turned them away because I suggest we'd better try the healing procedure in private" she said, her expression serious. "Since the fracture is not new anymore and since I can only make a rough estimate on the remaining after-effects of the curse, there is a tiny risk of complications." Listening to the explanation from the nurse, Snape's brow furrowed.
"Don't worry, Severus," Madam Pomfrey said soothingly. "The procedure is not dangerous. It just could be a bit painful and thus I wanted to spare you the audience."
Somehow, Snape had the slight suspicion that this statement of the nurse should at least worry him a bit. On the other hand – after the occurrences of the recent past, this particular revelation of perhaps expected pain could only wrest a weary smile from him – which immediately started to curl a corner of his mouth. Apart from him, the former Death Eater, there was arguably no one at this school who could produce first-hand experience on pain to such an extent. It could be assumed that this fact was the reason why the headmaster had forced him to teach Potions in the first place – anyone else would have resigned long ago…
Just the moment when reason won over cynicism, reminding him that he, being Master of Potions, was obviously the only logical choice for the task – utterly detached from his questionable past as torturer and tortured – the voice of Madam Pomfrey pulled him out of his musings.
"I think it would be best to first deal with everything else, and then attend to your shoulder," she said, rising from the chair.
This "everything else" defined itself by a clearly visible hump under the duvet and the Potions Master once again closed his eyes, as the healer pulled back the blankets and started to get rid of the bandages with a few well-placed spells – carefully, layer by layer. When a cool breeze brushed over the exposed skin, an involuntary shudder passed through Snape's body. He opened his eyes and met the gaze of the Madam Pomfrey, who stopped in her motions.
"Never mind, Poppy," he growled out through tightly gritted teeth. "It's… it's alright."
Yet – although he was annoyed about himself, and although he tried to suppress these irrational sensations of anxiety and weakness, there was a train of thought dawning, and increasingly gnawing at him. Not that he would not have been pleased about the eventual discovery of this ominous counter-curse – whether it might work or not. Just a few days… A wave of vague emotions flooded through him, making him shut his eyelids tightly. The sensation of anxiety deliberately made place for another: rage. As he felt soft bandages on his bare skin, perceived the low breathing of the nurse, he finally began to quarrel with his fate. His eyes sprang open and fixed the healer. As if she had sensed his penetrating glare, Madam Pomfrey paused and slowly turned around to face him.
"What's the matter, Severus?" she asked with a stern expression.
"You said, the counter-curse has been found?"
Madam Pomfrey's brow furrowed. "Yes…" she answered reluctantly.
"When was that?"
"I was informed this afternoon. Why?" Obviously the nurse saw Snape's point in spite of her answer, since she evaded his piercing glare. The Slytherin pressed his lips together and took a deep breath through his nose.
"A few days…" he whispered, his eyes narrowed. "Just a few days…"
Madam Pomfrey lowered her gaze. "Matters evolved …rather unfortunately, yes."
"RATHER UNFORTUNATELY...?" Snape exploded. If there was one – in his eyes – moronic and unnecessary declaration on this soil, that one was just it. He had reached the dead end, and this statement finally pushed him over the edge into emotional abyss. "I've… I LOST A LEG THANKS TO YOU INCOMPETENT CHARLATANS!" he roared. Sweat poured down his face as he attempted to bring his body to sit up in the bed. He wanted to flee, to escape… This all just couldn't be happening…
"SEVERUS! By Merlin's name, calm down!" The nurse grabbed his shoulders, trying to pin her agitated patient back down on the mattress.
"No…" Snape gasped, writhing under the grip of the healer. A sharp pain from his injured shoulder pierced through his body and made him groan in agony.
"Severus, please calm down," Madam Pomfrey said almost pleadingly, while continuing to push his upper body down to the bed. "You will hurt yourself again. If you don't lie quiet I must bind you to the bed. Please…!"
Slowly the movements of the Potions Master abated. Drenched in sweat and panting for air, he let himself sink back on the pillows. He held his eyes closed and breathed heavily, while trying to ignore the pain in his fractured shoulder that had flared up anew. When he realised that Madam Pomfrey reluctantly let go of his shoulders and withdrew her hands, he opened his eyes and gazed at her, his brow in deep furrows and his chin trembling.
"Poppy…" he whispered, utterly deflated. "What's the matter with me?"
The Slytherin had no clue of what had just happened. He, who had always been adamant on isolating his emotions from the dangerously curious outside world and keeping up a stoic, unreadable façade – how could he again loose control to such an extent? Was he approaching a nervous breakdown? Seeking for help, he looked into Madam Pomfrey's hazel eyes.
"Severus," the nurse began with a soothing voice, while gently dabbing the sweat from his forehead and cheeks. "You are under a great deal of emotional stress, and the constant high level of medication in your system is even adding to that. Such spontaneous emotional fluctuations are not uncommon in such a state."
"I thought I had overcome this," Snape mumbled, his gaze lowered to his lap. "But when I realised…" He shook his head. "Just a few days earlier…"
Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I assure you that I had the same thought when the news reached me this afternoon. And it was clear to me that you would not be spared this realisation yourself. I'm sorry, Severus."
The Slytherin closed his eyes. "I'm sure you gave your best, Poppy."
The nurse didn't answer, but reached for her wand instead. At his prior outburst, Snape had swept some flasks from the nightstand, and the spilled potions had formed a small puddle on the floor. Mumbling an Evanesco, Madam Pomfrey vanished the liquid along with the cullet.
"I could send for a specialist from St. Mungo's, if you like."
"A specialist?"
"A healer, who is…" Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat. "…specialised in psychic traumas."
"Psychic what?" Snape glared at the healer. This witch considered him …insane!
"Severus – said specialist would be able to help you with the unaccustomed emotional strains you are currently experiencing. I am experienced with problems of children and teenagers, but this is not exactly my area of expertise."
Narrowing his eyes, Snape slowly shook his head. "No Poppy, I'm not in need for a mental witch doctor." Now that would be the final key to his happiness, certainly – someone totally unknown to fumble around his mind and hypnotise him with some silly pendulum! He took a deep breath. "No… I assume I will be capable to cope with this by myself."
Madam Pomfrey smiled. "I knew you would say that. Anyway, you are perfectly right in one point – you will be able to cope with it. However, you are mistaken about the fact that you have to cope with it just by yourself. Even you should have discovered by now that you have a lot of people by your side, trying to help you."
"Hm," growled the Potions Master.
The nurse obviously took that as consent, since she smiled at him encouragingly. "And with this counter-curse we can not only heal your shoulder, but also quicken the healing of the wound on your leg. And after you got rid of the pain, and after you'll finally be able to escape this bed and this infirmary, you'll soon be better – I'm certain."
Snape thought of his own chambers, his own bed, his familiar clothes – had this witch secretly studied Legilimency? The prospect of finally fleeing this blasted ward put the slightest hint of a smile on his face.
"I knew it," stated Madam Pomfrey as she smiled back, and then squeezed his shoulder gently. "Shall we begin?"
With a wordless nod the Slytherin noted his agreement, and the healer placed her wand out on the nightstand.
"You need to sit up a bit now," Madam Pomfrey said, helping Snape to change position. He moaned quietly and bit his lip when the nurse carefully supported his injured arm and vanished the sling. When she had just placed the arm onto a pillow and removed the bandages from arm and shoulder, the sound of the door in the anteroom to the ward became audible.
"This is no hospital wing, this is the loo at the Quidditch World Cup," Madam Pomfrey growled, as Minerva McGonagall entered the room.
"Good afternoon, Minerva," she said, slightly annoyed. "How can I be of service?" She put her wand down again and faced the professor, who was standing in the doorway, her eyebrows knit together.
"Poppy, Severus," the Gryffindor nodded a greeting. "I'm sorry about the interruption, but I wanted to ask you for something for a headache, Poppy," she said apologetically.
"How are you, Severus?" she addressed the Potions Master, while Madam Pomfrey went to retrieve the requested medicament.
Snape didn't answer – no, he didn't even pay attention to his colleague. Staring at his bare left forearm, his eyes grew wide.
"It's …gone," he whispered. He hadn't realised it until now, but the Dark Mark has vanished.
"Gone…" he repeated unbelievingly, raising his head. Madam Pomfrey had returned, the painkiller for McGonagall in her hand. Carefully, she helped the wizard to turn the trembling arm. A greenish-yellow bruise was visible on the inside, resembling a fading haematoma. Snape palmed the darker spot on sallow skin, his fingertips quivering. It was different than last time, seventeen years ago. Back then the Mark had faded, true, but he had known, the Dark Lord was not gone; had known, the Mark would burn again, and he would be called again – some day. And he had known that he would be slave to his misguided decisions, further on. Yet, now…
"Free… at last," he muttered, gazing at the two women who eyed him with mixed expressions. The realisation hit him hard.
McGonagall was the first to speak. "Is it really gone?" she asked, her voice displaying curiosity as well as a slight hint of repulsion.
The Slytherin knew that she – being Gryffindor par excellence, fighter for the good and full of nearly insufferable faith in the side of Light – did not digest that particular aspect of his past well. Unlike Madam Pomfrey, with whom he had allowed himself to share his most vulnerable and emotional moments, since she has been his personal healer for a long time, Minerva McGonagall knew him only as Potions Professor, Head of Slytherin House and …ex-Death Eater. The both of them had cultivated a cooperative working relationship, but more personal moments had been an exception ever since.
Madam Pomfrey reached for her wand. "May I, Severus?"
Snape nodded mutely and the healer examined the bruise.
"As a matter of fact, this is really just the remains of a haematoma," she said pensively. "To be honest – I spotted this mark when I first examined your wounds, but in view of the other injuries you sustained, I didn't pay further attention to this one. The thought that this could be the remains of the Dark Mark didn't even cross my mind," she added sheepishly. "Be that as it may – there is no more Dark Magic detectable. The Mark is gone, Severus."
"I know," Snape answered quietly. "I feel it."
Gingerly he touched the forearm of his injured limb. That was it, then – a leg for his freedom. Kept in perspective, the bargain could be worse. Sighing, he lifted his head. "Shall we get it over with then, Poppy?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Can you please see to it that we will not be interrupted again, Minerva?"
"Certainly, Poppy," answered the Gryffindor and said goodbye.
Madam Pomfrey then turned back to Snape. "To support the healing process, I'll give you a small dose of Skele-Gro." She measured a couple of drops onto a spoon and put it in the Potions Master's mouth, who grimaced in disgust.
"Some things are just the same with all my patients – young and old," the nurse smiled.
"It seems that this concoction needs amendment as well," Snape growled, while he tried to get rid of the revolting tang in his mouth.
"Not only the students would be grateful, Severus," Madam Pomfrey grinned. "Are you ready?"
Snape nodded and the healer pointed her wand at the still clearly visible wound on his upper arm. Knitting her brow in deep concentration, she mumbled an incantation. A warm breeze encased the Slytherin's bare arm and shoulder, and he felt a tingling sensation. After another flick of the wand by the nurse, the tingling grew into a twinge, and then into throbbing pain.
"Just a moment, Severus," said Madam Pomfrey, as Snape drew a low hissing breath through clenched teeth. "Just another flick and it's over." She mumbled the incantation again and after another sharp prick the pain faded away again.
"So…" she said, a satisfied smile on her lips. "The flesh wound is healed and the bone mended." She felt cautiously around the upper arm. "How does it feel?"
"Tingly," answered the Potions Master. "But it doesn't hurt anymore."
"The tingling is due to the Skele-Gro, and will take some time to abate. It's just to help the cells of the bone to interlock quicker. Does it hurt when I move the arm?" She carefully lifted the elbow a bit.
"Only in the joints…"
"Good," smiled Madam Pomfrey and flicked her wand for another closer examination. "Apparently, the counter-curse was effective," she stated. "I'm going to stabilise the arm again and tomorrow we'll repeat the treatment. I'm confident that the fracture will be healed by tomorrow." Another flick conjured a sling, which immobilised the Potions Master's arm again.
"And now we'll attend to your muscles and joints, shall we? I'm positive that it will make things easier for you if you'll finally be able to wave a wand again."
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A/N: the expression "a loo at the Quidditch World Cup" was a suggestion from lucidity, who had a hard time finding something suitable for a rather untranslatable Austrian word I had used in the original version. Thank you very much!
I have to admit that I'm not so happy with this chapter, but I didn't want to change it in the translation. I hope you find it acceptable nevertheless. Next chapter will be Kingsley-time again, among other appearances (of adult characters).