Betas: Persephone Lupin for the original version and lucidity for the translation. Without you both I'd be lost, really!
o
Feast
o
The first cheeky sunbeams, which glistened through the window of Snape's bedchamber, tickled his nose and coaxed him to reluctantly open his eyes. Indeed, he could have carried on sleeping another couple of minutes, he thought while observing the golden reflections upon the arched ceiling. The strange sensation he encountered every year at the start of term was increasingly superposed by something else this time, a feeling previously unknown to him. He had regretted the annual end of the holidays before, since he would not have enough spare time to follow his own research due to his teaching – but this morning he felt a weird kind of burning in his stomach area. He was anxious. His face grimaced in disgust as he realised that sensation. That was it then – he really was afraid of children. How pathetic…
Sighing, he pushed away the duvet, and at just that very moment a knock on the door to the anteroom became audible. Cursing inwardly he drew the blanket back up to his chest and thought of how to manage that particular precarious situation. Although – the only person who had announced a visit for this morning…
"Severus?" he heard Madam Pomfrey's voice after another – this time more resolute – knock.
Snape reached for his wand, which he had placed ready on the nightstand the previous evening. After sitting up cumbersomely in the bed he cast a quiet incantation, and a creaking noise told him of the door opening.
"Come in, Poppy," he growled somewhat acidly. "I do hope you won't be offended that I'm still in bed."
"Good morning, Severus," the healer smiled as she entered the room. "That's just what I'm here for – to lend you a hand. Did you sleep well?"
"Surprisingly enough…" the Potions Master frowned.
"It's much better in your own home, isn't it?" Madam Pomfrey said gently while helping him to sit at the edge of the bed. "Wheelchair or crutches?"
The Slytherin closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Such decisions at this unearthly hour, he thought sarcastically.
"Crutches…"
The handling of the bulky wooden things turned out as similarly unnerving as the previous day. With the help of Madam Pomfrey he managed more rough than ready to reach the bathroom, and brushing his teeth didn't take any further attentiveness, since his already wearied arm made his hand shake in the required frequency anyway. With decent patience the healer lent him a hand with his morning hygiene while he desperately thought if he would be able to at least manage his most basic needs by himself in the near future at all. After Madam Pomfrey helped him slip into a comfortable house-robe and sat him in his armchair she started massaging his limbs, which due to this short labour were already overstrained. Snape sighed quietly.
"It's the start of term today…" he started.
Madam Pomfrey looked up from her task. "…which doesn't need to concern you, Severus," she said while kneading his left upper leg. "The earliest time I'll release you for work again will be in three weeks. You still need time to regain strength and adapt to your changed living circumstances. I take it that you wouldn't want to teach in a wheelchair, would you?"
Snape flinched slightly. "No," he answered curtly. But the thought of the feast tonight and the seemingly umpteen stairs of the castle made his guts clench once again. Without giving in to some unrealistic illusions – tonight at least crutches were out of the question, he thought bitterly. Tonight the entire assembled pupils could gloat over his wheelchair and the fact that he was not even able to stand upright. The idea nearly caused him nausea.
"Moreover, it will do you good to recuperate and turn to your own interests for a while," Madam Pomfrey said gently from behind while tending to his shoulders with another healing charm. "I need some fresh healing potions from you anyway to fill up the hospital stocks."
…after he had energetically helped emptying those personally, the Slytherin thought grimacing.
"I'll set to work this very day," he said, while conjuring scenarios in his mind of how he could manage the required tasks in a sitting position. "We will want to be prepared for the victims of the first flying lesson after all, now won't we?"
Madam Pomfrey grinned and patted his shoulder. "No need to hurry, Severus, you've got three long weeks time. So…" she said, as she walked over to the fireplace. "What would you want for breakfast?"
o
After Snape had shared a light breakfast with the nurse, consisting of coffee, scones, jam and a vial of Invigoration Draught ("For the muscles, Severus!"), he politely but surely shooed her out to start the task of composing various lists of the needed potions and their ingredients. That invigorating brewage found its way under the category of "taste in need of amendment". Just after he had finished filling the second roll of parchment with an assortment of herbs, and was rummaging in his desk drawer for another bottle of ink, cursing silently, he heard a knock on the door. Snape recognised the soft, rhythmical knocking Dumbledore's and waved his wand to open the door.
"Severus," the Headmaster greeted him lightly. "It's nice to see you up."
"Good morning, Albus," Snape growled, just before he accioed a new inkbottle, which he finally discovered on the shelf behind him. "To what do I owe the privilege?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Since you obviously are yourself again, I'll spare you my enquiring about your condition."
"Thank you," answered the Slytherin. "Please take a seat, Albus. I'll be with you in a moment." Sighing quietly, he reached out for the crutches, which leaned against the edge of the desk.
At a dismissing wave from the Headmaster's hand his motions froze. "No, Severus, please don't trouble yourself. Most unfortunately I cannot linger anyway. You know what it's usually like at the start of term," he added sighing.
Snape nodded. "I take it that the students will arrive at the usual time?"
"Yes," the Headmaster answered. "And I'm pleased you want to show up at tonight's feast."
The Potions Master's face reflected just moderate enthusiasm. "It's my duty as Head of House, I assume, isn't it?"
"Above all, it's important for you to show yourself to the students of your house to give them support," Dumbledore answered. "The time ahead will be difficult for them."
Snape nodded sighing, and then grimaced. "Poppy told me about the vengeful actions against Slytherins."
"There were sporadic incidents, yes, but we must not allow that spark to jump across to our students," the old wizard answered. "The adults are war-weary, but the children apparently are not yet."
"I'm aware of that, Albus…"
A forceful knocking from the anteroom interrupted the two men's conversation. As many visitors in this one day he hadn't had the entire last year, Snape thought and curled a sarcastic lip.
"I'll see who it is, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Most regrettable, but I must leave you now anyway."
A few moments later the Headmaster was gone and Kingsley was standing on the doorstep, a tray in his hand, which he placed on the dining table.
"I thought I'd just bring down some lunch," he smiled at the Potions Master, "to spare you the trouble of getting upstairs to the Great Hall."
"Thank you Kingsley, that's very considerate of you," Snape answered. "I'm not very hungry."
"Come off it, Severus… The appetite comes with eating."
"Just why am I under the impression that it's my blessed grandmother speaking instead of you?" the Potions Master answered and arched an eyebrow.
Kingsley chuckled, while lending Snape an arm to help him stand up. After the Slytherin had settled down by the table and Kingsley stored away the crutches, Snape emitted a quiet sigh of frustration.
"Now, it's getting better each day, isn't it?" the Ravenclaw said, while taking the other chair at the table.
Snape emitted a low, bitter laugh. "The fact that I'm not even capable of standing up from my desk without help, I would not define as better."
"Severus," Kingsley said, his face growing serious. "What do you expect? Give yourself some time – soon you'll be completely yourself again, as before."
"Minus one leg."
The Ravenclaw bit his lower lip and looked into Snape's eyes. "What's really the matter, Severus? What's aggrieving you?"
Perhaps that I am afraid of children? Afraid of a couple of blasted brats who not even reach up to my chest? If I would be able to stand upright, that is…
The Slytherin withstood Kingsley's gaze without blinking. "Nothing," he retorted. "The food is getting cold."
Resigning, Kingsley sighed, and started to put the food onto the two plates in front of them.
o
o
Just another burden…, Snape sighed inwardly, while picking at his robe, which had shifted as he sat down in the wheelchair. He had spent the afternoon with reading and writing lists, and most of all with trying to tear his thoughts away from the upcoming welcome feast. The fact that even going to the bathroom had taken him half an eternity and cost him all his vigour didn't really help to lift his abysmal mood. And by the time Kingsley arrived shortly after sunset to pick him up and assist him with the final preparations, he nearly had snapped at him. He drew a deep breath as Kingsley gently squeezed his shoulder from behind.
"Let's go, shall we?" the Ravenclaw asked, an encouraging smile on his face.
Snape nodded and emitted a secret heartfelt groan. So be it, he thought.
Together they made their way up along the long staircases and corridors of the school, through which sporadic voices of children were already audible. Apparently the carriages had arrived just before. Snape mused about who had been accompanying the first years over the lake after Hagrid's demise, as he heard some all too familiar voices from just around the corner ahead. With a wave of his hand he signalled Kingsley to stop, which the Ravenclaw answered with a quizzical glance. Snape only slightly shook his head and listened, his brow knit together and eyes narrowed.
"…could polish off a whole hippogriff!"
"Honestly Ron, can't you think of anything else other than food?"
"Ey Hermione, chocolate frogs don't last an entire day!"
"Regarding the loads you devoured it should at least last for another week. And if you hadn't dilly-dallied with that bunch of devoted girlfriends you obviously have, we could at least be in the Great Hall already."
"Now come on, Hermione…"
"I wonder about classes this year…"
Snape's frown deepened as he recognised Potter's voice.
"Yeah, the last year. Finally!"
And finally the last chance to stuff some knowledge into your red skull, Weasley, the Slytherin thought.
"I wasn't referring to that, Ron. I meant… well... a couple of teachers died…""Oh… yeah."
"Has anybody heard anything about Snape?"
The Potions Master couldn't prevent flinching slightly at the mentioning of his name.
"Nothing specific. I just overheard dad telling mum that he was injured during the last battle."
"Did he survive?"
"You can bet on that, Hermione, bad weeds grow tall."
"Harry's right. The greasy git could always arrange everything to his likings. He always slithered out of everything. That he didn't show up at your commendation, Harry, that was pretty low!"
"Perhaps he's still in mourning for his old master…"Kingsley's hand grabbed Snape's shoulder, as if he wanted to prevent the Slytherin from jumping out of the wheelchair. Snape's heart pounded up to his throat and he breathed heavily, as he desperately worked on keeping his emotions in check. Would it have been possible, he would have reduced these impossible brats down to such small piles that they would have regretted ever being born. Yet, he just closed his eyes in bitterness and lowered his head.
"P… P… Professor… Snape!"
"You… Merlin!"
The Potions Master raised his gaze and fixated three pairs of shock-widened Gryffindor-eyes, his expression frozen and eyes narrowed dangerously. Anxious seconds passed until the three students' gazes broke free and like in slow motion passed down Snape's body. As they finally reached the non-existent limb, and stared at the lump through which the remains of it defined itself under his robe with mouths agape, Snape's stomach nearly churned out of rage and shame.
"At the time of your commendation, Mister Potter, it seems I was indisposed," he hissed in the most dangerous tone he could accomplish. "And now get out of my sight."
The trio didn't move and kept standing as if frozen, while their trembling lips obviously, yet unsuccessfully, tried to stutter out words of apology.
"Didn't you understand?" Snape asked, his icy voice now reduced to a barely audible breath. "You are able to walk, aren't you?"
A jerk went through the three students; they closed their mouths, turned on their heels and fled around the corner out of sight. Time seemed to stand still as the Potions Master slowly lifted his arms and buried the face in his hands.
"Merlin…" he whispered.
He felt Kingsley's hand on his shoulder. "Severus…"
"No, Kingsley," Snape interrupted and raised an averting hand. "Please spare me – I know what you are going to say. Let's get to the Great Hall, because if we run into Longbottom too now, I cannot guarantee my actions."
Finally they reached the Great Hall, out of which the joyful laughter of children's voices was audible. Kingsley pushed the wheelchair across the threshold of the big entrance door, and within seconds even the last pair of eyes rested upon the Potions Professor and the new teacher. The conversations died out, after some moments of appalled silence to make room for sporadic restrained whispering and murmuring. With a frozen and exerted unreadable expression plastered onto his face, Snape let his gaze wander along the rows of students. Obviously his fate definitely hadn't been made public, since the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws altogether stared at him uncomprehendingly. To the Gryffindor table, however, the news apparently had found its way, as the faces of the students showed less astonishment and rather more embarrassment.
"Professor Snape," he heard from his left and shifted his gaze to the table of his own house. The faces of his Slytherins displayed the inner brokenness of his house; some of the students lowered their heads in distress, while the expression of others showed blank horror. Draco Malfoy was the one who had spoken, his chest showing the golden badge of the Head Boy. Snape narrowed his eyes and nodded a greeting towards his students. It would definitely take some time until the occurrences of recent years would finally be overcome. Not only that Slytherin was the pariah among the school's houses, the house itself was divided into culprits and victims at that.
"Professor Snape, Professor Shacklebolt!"
The Headmaster's voice pulled Snape out of his thoughts. Dumbledore approached them and accompanied them to the table, where Kingsley placed the wheelchair at the designated position and took the chair besides the Potions Master. As Snape breathed a quiet sigh of relief, Kingsley gave him an encouraging smile.
"So now they know," he said in a low tone, "and you weathered it, for now."
"Hm," Snape emitted, while he nodded at his colleagues on either side in silent greeting. Those of which saw him again for the first time tonight obviously put greatest efforts in showing a more or less sheepish smile on their faces. Almost automatically a sneer graced Snape's face as he realised his colleagues' tentativeness.
After Minerva McGonagall had entered the Hall – a group of anxious looking first years on her coat-tails – the Sorting Hat started singing his annual song for the beginning of the new school year. While the Hat sang about restarting and sticking together, Snape let his gaze wander over the assembled pupils. Some of them were watching him covertly, just to lower their glances at his frown like guilty delinquents. Harry Potter, however, resisted his glare, and Snape noticed that the boy didn't look him in the eyes, but at a spot on his …forehead. A smirk sneaked up on the face of the Potions Master, as he realised the irony of the situation, and Potter returned the smile. Now they were as well marked as equal. Interesting…
The newly sorted Slytherin first years were much fewer than the years before, which prompted the Gryffindor Head of House to wink knowingly at Snape as she carried the Sorting Hat away. When the Headmaster finally rose for his yearly speech, the murmuring in the Hall ebbed away and all eyes found their way to the teacher's table.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore greeted the professors and pupils alike. "As the Sorting Hat already pointed out, and as you all know already anyway – this year is different from the ones before. We celebrated a great victory…"
A wave of joyful jubilation interrupted the Headmaster's speech, the noisiest centre of which at the Gryffindor table, where the students nearly tumbled at showing their gratitude with hugging and backslapping Harry Potter.
"However…" Dumbledore raised his hand and tried to drown out the ruckus, which only slowly died out again. "However – as great this victory is, there were some bitter moments to it as well, and some of us have suffered great personal losses," he added solemnly, and Snape couldn't avert a shadow briefly passing over his face.
"The Hogwarts teaching staff has been affected by these losses as well," Dumbledore continued, "and you will all notice the changes in our midst. In deep sorrow I have to announce the demise of our professors Flitwick and Hagrid. New Head of Ravenclaw House will be Professor Vector from now on, and Hagrid's field of responsibility will be taken over by Professor Grubbly-Plank. As new professor for Charms I may introduce a new face in our middle – the renowned Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt!" He turned to Kingsley who rose and faced the rather restrained applause.
"The curriculum of Defence Against the Dark Arts is currently being revised, and therefore will be suspended until further notice," Dumbledore continued, and then turned to Snape whose frown deepened even more. "Professor Snape has been wounded in battle and is still convalescent at present. Potions classes will be taken over by Madam Sprout until Professor Snape again will be able to teach."
The Headmaster's further speech was barely registered by Snape and the students alike, who now cast him secret glances and obviously tried hard to not show their telltale expressions all too openly.
However, the appearing food finally made sure that universal attention was drawn to the feast, and nobody noticed the Potions Master dropping his mask for a brief moment, as he closed his eyes, breathing heavily.
o
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o
A/N: I know that the children appear a bit "bad" in this chapter, but actually this was not my intention. I just imagined these situations when you say something out of impulse and without thinking – and that you sometimes unintentionally hurt people with that. Especially if said people already feel insecure or labile in the first place. And I guess, this situation here was very special anyway.