Betas: Persephone Lupin and lucidity – thank you very much, I would be lost without you!
Enjoy!
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Prelude
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"So tomorrow tranquillity will be past..."
Kingsley chuckled. "Is it really that bad that school starts again? I actually assumed you'd already be bored without the children," he added teasingly.
"I daresay that I could live quite comfortably without the permanent ruckus all over the castle," Snape answered, while picking a maple leaf to little pieces.
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Today was the first day in a long time that he was relatively free of pain, as Snape had noticed this morning with satisfaction. Madam Pomfrey's skills combined with the counter curse had essentially proven successful – after another treatment the fracture of the humerus was fully healed, and in the following days the healer concentrated on the strengthening of Snape's muscles and the restoration of the mobility in the joints, which had become stiff due to the long time of recumbency. It was no pleasant experience for the Slytherin, whose tether finally reached its end after another full hour of flexing and stretching of his limbs, garnished with constant massages and healing charms by the nurse. However, Madam Pomfrey reduced him back to a mutely suffering heap outright with a long tirade about similar kinds of situations practised in methods of non-magical medicine. How these Muggles could stand weeks – or even months – of those rehabilitation therapies without going insane was utterly beyond him. And for the first time in his life he wholeheartedly thanked blessed Paracelsus for having seen the light of day as a wizard.
In the course of healing the wound on the stump of his upper leg Madam Pomfrey removed the bandages and after the successful procedure finally encased it with a simple protective stocking, all of which bestowed upon Snape more than one unpleasant surge of adrenaline. Yet to his own satisfaction he could keep his emotions under control, and as the healer eventually placed his wand in his lap everything around him was forgotten. With trembling fingers he caressed the smooth birch wood, as if his entire well being depended on this sole piece of dark glazed wood. And as Madam Pomfrey made a moderately amusing remark about Muggle children getting lollipops after behaving at the doctor, he even graced her with a smile.
o
"Have you decided yet?" Kingsley asked, while Snape brushed the remains of the maple leaf from his lap. After breakfast the Ravenclaw had once again picked him up for another walk in the garden, and they eventually found their way back to the spot under the maple tree. The gaze of the Potions Master wandered over the irregular treetops of the Forbidden Forest.
"Decided? What do you mean?"
"Will you attend tomorrow's feast?"
"Hm," the Potions Master emitted lowly. For two days already he had brooded over that decision. The prospect of appearing in front of the assembled students in his condition certainly didn't fill him with happy anticipation, and he arguably would have preferred a quiet dinner in self-inflicted reclusiveness. However, reason had won over his doubts – from a logical point of view it was completely irrelevant if he would face the brats tomorrow or on any other day. Moreover his attendance at the feast, as Slytherin Head of House, would be of no small symbolic significance. Despite all efforts of obviation, the reputation of Slytherin had hit rock bottom during the last year of the war. He just owed it to his house and his students to thwart that with his visible presence – particularly now that so many of the children had become orphans or de facto orphans after their parents had been accused of being Death Eaters and sentenced to Azkaban.
"Yes, I will come."
"I'm glad," smiled Kingsley. "I was afraid you'd want to miss my first official appearance as a teacher."
Snape manoeuvred the blanket higher up to his chin and waved his wand to warm it up a bit. Despite the sunny weather the temperature was chilly and according to the season.
"Did Albus rubber stamp your proposed syllabus?" he asked, while he let his wand slip into a side pocket of the wheelchair.
"Sure he did," Kingsley answered and took a drag from his pipe. "I largely follow the old curriculum of Filius anyway. By the way – Albus informed me at breakfast that the memorial service would take place in two weeks."
More involuntarily than on purpose Snape looked down to Hagrid's hut, the cold chimney and empty windows of which still reminded of the fate of its former resident. "Good," he answered.
"Albus also suggested that the Minister would be there as well, to award some decorations…"
Snape grimaced. "Now who would that be…?" Not that he would begrudge all these orders and tributes to Potter – the fact that he had freed the world from one of its most unpleasant inhabitants could not be denied. Yet, slowly but surely this entire spectacle about him could be ended at last and for good.
Kingsley cleared his throat. "Both our names were mentioned as well in this connexion."
"Really…" Now that was indeed unforeseen. Still, to his own surprise this particular revelation moved him only lukewarmly. The tribute to his efforts he had longed for not so long ago came eventually a bit …late. To be decorated for participating? For being one pawn out of many on a solitary hill?
His friend watched him smilingly. "I would have thought you might be pleased about it," he said. "After all, I've heard of an episode where you nearly received a medal and were rather furious that it eventually turned out otherwise."
"My priorities in this regard seem to have shifted slightly due to recent occurrences," the Potions Master answered dryly.
"Now, I can imagine that," Kingsley mentioned while cleaning his pipe. "It's nearly midday. We should get back to the castle – otherwise we might miss lunch."
Snape nodded and reached for his wand, while Kingsley vanished his chair.
"Leave it, I'll push the wheelchair," he said. "Spare your strength for the afternoon. You'll need it then."
Sighing, the Slytherin put his wand back into the pocket and let himself be pushed by Kingsley. As relieved as he was for being able to move the wheelchair magically now, doing magic challenged his strength more than he liked. Kingsley was right; he had to save his energy, because Madam Pomfrey had signalled that he could start his first attempt on crutches this afternoon. And depending on the results of this was the chance that he might eventually be able to move back to his own quarters. Although the healer apparently could hardly release him from her motherly claws, he had stipulated this – on no account he had the desire to still lie about in the hospital wing at the start of term and so run the risk of being forced to share a room with some fallen Quidditch hero.
On their way to the Great Hall the Potions Master once again sensed the curious glances from the portraits boring into his neck. He heard the whispered conversations and tried to ignore them – hell, these were just pictures! One particularly audible clause made his gaze shoot up and fix the culprit – a mobcap bonnet wearing young witch – through narrowed eyes so icily that she instantly froze like a Muggle painting and didn't utter another tone.
As Kingsley opened the door to the Great Hall and pushed the wheelchair over the threshold all teachers currently present at the school were already assembled around a single table, conversing lightly.
The Headmaster greeted them with a friendly wave of his hand. "Kingsley, Severus! How nice of you to join us."
Professors Sprout, Sinistra and McGonagall sat at the table, as well as Madam Pomfrey and Madam Hooch. They exchanged a couple of polite greetings and the nurse shifted to make room, so that Kingsley could position Snape's wheelchair between her and the free chair for himself. The already served food smelled appetising.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting," apologised Kingsley.
"Have you been to the garden?" asked Madam Sprout. "How are you, Severus?"
The Potions Master nodded uncommunicatively. "Better. Thank you for your concern, Pomona."
"It's good that you could enjoy the nice weather today," Madam Sprout smiled. "I have been preparing for the Potions classes instead."
"If any questions or problems emerge…"
"…I'll certainly turn to you, Severus," the Hufflepuff interrupted him. "Don't worry, I guess I'm able to cover for you these next few weeks."
"Good," Snape answered. What he actually thought of his colleague's expertise on potions was better kept to himself.
"Pomona," he asked, remembering his planned researches. "What about the school's stock on bergamot?"
"We have three trees in the greenhouse. Why?"
"I need some bergamot paring soon," the Potions Master answered.
"For a potion?"
No, to improve the smell of my bathroom. Such questions made him definitely doubt the quality of this herb-witch's stand-in classes.
"Certainly for a potion," he growled and turned his attention to his plate.
"You have to sample this venison pie," said Dumbledore and pushed the big plate towards Kingsley, who instantly loaded his plate amply. "It's so fresh you can almost still hear the deer bellowing."
While broad laughter followed the Headmaster's remark, Madam Pomfrey poured Snape a glass of beer, which he awarded with an appreciative glance.
"We can start right away after lunch, if you feel like," she said in a low voice.
The Slytherin nodded as he slowly reached out and helped himself to some of the venison pie. "The sooner, the better," he answered.
Snape mutely followed the further process of lunch, while around him topics like curricula and tomorrow's welcome feast were discussed.
"I'm curious how the house sorting this year will turn out," he heard Madam Hooch say and looked up.
"It's assumed that Slytherin will have fewer gains this year," McGonagall answered with a side-glance at Snape.
He sighed inwardly. Far too often he had watched children's mouths form those two words: not Slytherin! It could be doubted vehemently that this fact would change this of all years. He glared at the Gryffindor through black eyelashes, while a sneer curled the corner of his mouth.
"Quality, my dear Minerva, not quantity."
McGonagall opened her mouth for a furious tit-for-tat response, but was stopped by the tea- and coffeepots appearing on the table. Snape smiled smugly while pouring himself a cup of coffee. The scores would be settled at the end of the year anyway, and he would give his best to help Slytherin on its way to the House Cup – as ever. The fact that this year would not be easy for his house could be compensated by targeted point deductions. When he would be teaching again… He made a mental note to ask Madam Pomfrey about that topic.
o
"These… blasted… crutches!"
Drenched in sweat and trembling all-over Snape stood in the middle of the ward, the bulky wooden monstrosities under his arms, and flanked on both sides by Kingsley and Madam Pomfrey.
"Slowly, Severus," Kingsley soothed. He held out his arm behind Snape's back, ready to keep his friend from falling in case he would overbalance.
It had looked quite easy, at first. The nurse had demonstrated the handling of the crutches and then helped Snape together with Kingsley to stand up from the wheelchair. Standing on one – and a weak and shaky to boot – leg turned out more draining than expected. And keeping the balance on his own was completely out of the question, as the Slytherin had to realise soon. Where had that catlike gracefulness gone in which he had prided himself… Somewhat frustrated he had taken the crutches out of Madam Pomfrey's hands and tried to manage a couple of unsteady steps. At first Kingsley and the nurse had their hands supportively at his shoulders, until they let go and he did some steps alone.
"Be patient, Severus," Madam Pomfrey said. "Remember, you haven't regained much strength yet. And with a bit of practise you will get used to the crutches soon, you'll see."
Not only would he have to get used to being disabled, he would also need to get used to being a clumsy galoot, Snape thought grimly. He made one last hop before his vigour finally left him and he began to stagger. Kingsley's arm caught him, and he supported him back to the wheelchair.
"I wish to move back to my quarters – this very day," Snape said, exhausted but determined.
"I know," Madam Pomfrey answered with a smile. "I already gave the house elves the order to heat up your rooms. Kingsley will bring you downstairs whenever you wish to."
And Snape wished that as soon as possible. The nurse called for some house elves to bring down the Potions Master's personal belongings, and then she called for Filch to meet them in Snape's quarters afterwards. At first the Slytherin didn't quite understand why the presence of the caretaker would be necessary, but after realising that the wheelchair didn't fit through the bathroom door he comprehended. Under the supervision of Snape and Kingsley, Filch attached a couple of handholds and bars on selected spots, and then left them again. Handicapped accessible, Snape thought grimacing.
"Are you sure you can manage by yourself?" Kingsley asked concerned.
Snape nodded. "Thank you, Kingsley."
"Poppy will drop by later to look in on you," the Ravenclaw said before turning towards the door. "See you tomorrow."
When Madam Pomfrey finally entered Snape's flat after dinner, she found the Potions Master sitting in his armchair and reading in his new botanical compendium. She helped him with his hygiene and under the shower, and not until Snape at last felt the hot water wash over his back did he become aware of how much he had missed this in these last weeks of various cleaning spells and charms. Unusually even-tempered he allowed the nurse to help him into his nightshirt and tuck him in his bed, and as he finally closed his eyes he almost felt like everything was as before.
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A/N:
Concerning Snape's wand: I chose birch, because his birthday is in the period of birch, according to Celtic mythology. Also, I found the following line, which seems to fit well for Snape, as I imagine him: „In early Celtic mythology, the birch came to symbolise renewal and purification."
Concerning the crutches: I made them rather old-fashioned wooden ones, because I understood (from my researches) that in Anglo-Saxon area these kinds were used until not so long ago. Please correct me if I'm wrong on this (I will not change the chapter, though ;-)). I did a bit of research on this because here in Central Europe we use differently designed, metal ones. And since the wizarding community is still clinging on using quills and parchment instead of pens and paper, I assumed that these medical things would not be the latest fashion either ;-).
And my Severus drinks beer, yes. Because he is cool ;-). And I just cannot imagine him drinking pumpkin juice; forgive me. ;-)