Big thanks go to Persephone Lupin and Lucidity, as always:-)

o


o

Bergamot

o

"Poppy, it hurts!"

Snape was sitting on the edge of the bed, his right hand cramped into the cotton fabric of his nightshirt – as if he wanted to pull it up to visually corroborate the inconsistency of sensing pain in a non-existent limb. After holing up in his chambers for two full days after the welcome feast, with not even Kingsley or Madam Pomfrey being able to persuade him to show up in public for an occasional meal at the least, he woke today feeling pain – in his right leg! How could something hurt that is no longer there? Was he going insane after all?

"There is nothing to examine any longer, Poppy," he hissed, as Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand. The Healer cast him a glance that made him hush.

"You suffer from phantom pain," she observed thoughtfully.

Snape furrowed his brow. "Phantom pain…?" He couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that this witch was putting him on. "Now, how would that be possible? According to my humble medical knowledge one needs nerves, at least, to feel pain…" Exasperated, his hand reached for the stump. "…and there are no nerves. There is not even a leg any longer!"

"Severus," Madam Pomfrey attempted an explanation, while the face of the Potions Master reflected a mixture of anger and frustration. "Phantom pain is hardly comparable with usual forms of pain. Your brain is playing a trick on you…"

"I am not just imagining this!" the unnerved Slytherin interrupted the nurse and glared at her.

"No, I haven't said that," Madam Pomfrey tried to calm him. "Not even in Muggle medicine has phantom pain been entirely researched yet – not to mention our magical healing, where there is hardly ever necessary the final resort of an amputation. I talked to Mr. Moody about it once, and he confided to me that he suffered from it too early on after his loss."

Snape's intestines clenched slightly. "Is there anything possible to do for it?" he asked curtly, yet calmer than before.

"According to Mr. Moody, the pain will wear away after some time," Madam Pomfrey answered. "We will try with massages, and it's important for you to keep the stump warm for better circulation. In the meantime I'll give you a light pain killer."

The Slytherin pressed his lips together. Slowly but surely he was getting fed up with all these healing concoctions, he thought.

"However – there seem to be certain circumstances that trigger phantom pain," the healer carried on, her voice serious. "Particular weather conditions, for example – or emotional stress…"

Now that was news to him, Snape frowned. Emotional stress… Ha!

Madam Pomfrey rummaged in her bag and produced a vial which she handed to Snape. "Here you are, Severus… This should ease the pain for now."

Reluctantly the Slytherin reached out for the potion while Madam Pomfrey eyed him pensively. Then she cleared her throat.

"What's the matter, Severus?" she asked cautiously. "I have known you for years – decades, actually – and I would be downright dumb and blind not to notice that something is bothering you."

Snape's features hardened. "It's nothing," he hissed – somewhat fiercer than intended.

"Don't try to fool me," Madam Pomfrey retorted. "I'm aware that you are anything but the social type of person, but if Kingsley or I cannot even drag you out of your rooms in two days – that's unusual even for you."

Not in his wildest dreams would he tell this witch that he was effectively evading a pack of adolescents, Snape thought and unintentionally lowered his head.

"Kingsley told me of your run-in with Mr. Potter and his friends…"

A hissing draw of breath escaped the Slytherin before he could avert it. So much for self-control, he thought bitterly. He could not even save face anymore when there was the need to.

"So that's it…" the healer said quietly. "I thought of something like that – and Kingsley as well."

Snape's head snapped up and he glared at Madam Pomfrey. Yet she ignored his gaze.

"Kingsley told me what happened," she said. "Severus, don't let this drag you down to such an extent! Nobody knew what had happened to you, and the students were just swamped with the situation – as well as you have been."

The Slytherin pressed his lips together and lowered his head. "They are gaping… and arguably just gossiping about me this very minute..."

"…and that's so hard to understand for you?" Madam Pomfrey interrupted him. "Honestly Severus, what do you expect? The students have to get used to these …circumstances as well. They were surprised, probably shocked – and I'm sure they didn't mean to hurt you," she added.

"A notion which I question vehemently…"

"Nonsense," answered Madam Pomfrey, shaking her head aversely. "Anyway, it doesn't help in the least if you barricade yourself in here and wallow in self-pity."

"I don't wallow in self-pity!" Snape spat angrily.

"Yes, you do," the nurse pointed out, but with sympathy in her voice. "You must not let yourself go, Severus, your life goes on as well. And do grant your environment a chance to adapt to the situation as well – don't forget that a case like yours is very rare in our world. Needless to say that a certain amount of gaping was to be expected..."

Especially if it concerned the most hated professor of the school, Snape thought and curled a bitter lip. "Hm," he growled undecidedly, while a feeble voice in the very back of his head secretly gave in to the healer's tirade.

"Nobody wants to do you any harm, Severus…"

Now, that was something he definitely doubted, the Potions Master thought cynically.

"Pomona asked for you yesterday evening," Madam Pomfrey gently shifted the topic of the conversation.

Snape narrowed his eyes. Apparently there had been the first cauldron-explosion already in the first two days, he thought sneering. "What did she want?"

"She asked me to tell you that one of her bergamot trees already has grown two fruits," the nurse answered. "However, she would advise you to pick them as soon as possible, since she cannot guarantee that there will be another harvest soon. She said the fruits were early, as the regular harvest time would not be before November."

The Slytherin nodded. "I'll see to it. Thank you, Poppy."

No cauldron-meltings then, Snape thought almost regretfully, while Madam Pomfrey retrieved his clothes and then started to help him get dressed.

o

ooo

o

After the nurse attended her already familiar morning routine and then left Snape again, the Slytherin spent most of the morning catching up with the research on his planned projects. Somewhat contented he registered that his walking attempts with crutches became increasingly practised, and after he managed to repeatedly sit and stand up from his chair he sent for a house elf to make an appointment with Madam Sprout for the afternoon – regarding the harvesting of the bergamot fruits.

Kingsley had announced he would come over for lunch, and thus the Potions Master wanted to see some of the work done before – on the one hand to get it out of his head and on the other hand to distract his thoughts from Madam Pomfrey's matutinal wigging. The reproach and the following reluctant realisation that he was indeed wallowing in self-pity were increasingly nagging on Snape's pride.

Just as he slowly hobbled over to a closet in the depths of which he suspected a particular and rarely used collection of essays regarding the topic of "Mediterranean citrus fruits and their practical usage in potion making" there was a knock on his door. Snape nodded in relief. He was not at all unhappy about Kingsley's obviously early arrival, since he noticed that he apparently once again had expected too much of his still weak body. His leg trembled and his shoulders hurt as he cumbersomely fumbled for the wand in his pocket.

"Come in, Kingsley," he said as he heard the door to the anteroom spring open. Not a single minute too soon, he thought, while turning around to head for the table, his movements increasingly laboured.

"Professor Snape…" he heard a sheepish voice, which sounded suspiciously …not like Kingsley's! A rush of adrenaline passed through his body as he slowly turned around, discovering the infernal trio standing on his doorstep.

"What do you want here?" the Potions Master forced his voice into the usual silky quality, after he had swallowed the first shock and anger over his own carelessness. The muscles in his leg burned and his joints ached, and between him and the longed for chair stood three blasted Gryffindors who nervously raked holes in his carpet. Marvellous.

"I am listening…?" he prompted, his voice dangerously low.

"Professor Snape…" Harry began once more, while Snape glared at him through narrowed eyes. "Please excuse the intrusion…" he stuttered.

"Potter…" Snape growled impatiently. The chair seemed to move far into the distance. "If you have something to tell me, do so. Otherwise leave my rooms, as I am really not in the mood for idle chit-chat."

Raising his chin, the student cleared his throat. "We came to apologise for our behaviour, Professor Snape," he said, while Ron and Hermione behind him nodded. "We didn't mean to hurt you… and we're sorry."

The Potions Master arched an eyebrow. "Who sent you?" he sneered.

"Nobody…" Harry answered confused. "– Professor," he added quickly.

"We were sent by no one, Professor," repeated Hermione. "Should there have been anybody sending us?"

Leaning heavily on his crutches, Snape shook his head and raised an averting hand. "No," he snapped. "Anything else? Yes, Mr. Weasley?" he asked while trying to ignore the tiny beads of sweat that started to appear on his forehead. It was written all over the tall and lanky redhead's face that he wanted to say something. And the quicker he would do this, the quicker Snape could throw the brats out of his rooms again.

"How… how are you, Professor Snape?" said Ron, his face glowing so red that not even a single freckle was visible anymore.

For a short moment Snape thought he couldn't trust his ears anymore. "Mr. Weasley…" he started in a dangerous tone, but the sarcastic smile which started to play around his lips died away again. He felt so tired. The fact that these three chose this of all moments to placard their apparently newly awakened sympathy seemed to him almost like another cynical twist of fate.

"Under the circumstances, Mr. Weasley," he answered in forced calmness. "Your apology is accepted. Please leave now."

As fast as the three Gryffindor's paces died away the longed for chair drew closer again – and as Snape finally slowly lowered himself onto it he emitted a sigh of relief. They are sorry, he thought, shaking his head, while the nurse's sermon again echoed in his ears. "Hm," he emitted pensively, while he started to knead his still far too lean upper leg.

At lunch with Kingsley, who arrived just shortly after the students' departure, the Potions Master chose to mention their visit only casually. His friend too seemed to refrain from going deeper into the subject and just answered the story with a knowing smile. Instead, they emerged in a light conversation about Kingsley's first classes.

"This morning I had the Hufflepuff first-years," the Ravenclaw said cheerfully, while loading another portion of food onto his plate. "We practised wand movements – cute, I tell you! It's hard to believe that we were that small as well once. And they are so studious and eager to learn – Pomona will be happy about her house's new students," he added.

"That happiness is going to last exactly until she confronts them with the first potions recipe."

"Oh, you are one diehard cynic, Severus," Kingsley grinned, shaking his head.

The Potions Master smirked. "Well, we'll see when Pomona announces the first melting of a cauldron. The bets are open."

"I didn't know that you are into betting, Severus."

"I am not," Snape answered dryly and pushed the emptied plate aside.

o

ooo

o

After Kingsley left for his afternoon classes, Snape granted himself a short break and – somewhat grudgingly – a strengthening potion, because he planned a detour to his office prior to his appointment with Madam Sprout. Luckily, his office and private workroom was next to the potions classroom, which was located not far from his chambers on the same floor.

A corner of his mouth twitched, as Snape stored the lab's inventory list in the inner pocket of his robe, and then reached for the crutches. At least it was to be expected that the dungeon corridors would be relatively empty at this time of afternoon, he thought, as he turned to the entrance and – after taking a deep draw of breath – opened the door. A wave of familiar smelling air welcomed him, as he stepped over the threshold and closed the door silently. No sound was audible in the corridor, and after a nod of satisfaction Snape started his way towards his office.

Clunk… Clunk… Clunk…

Unnerved, the Potions Master paused and glared down at the wooden crutches, which rendered his once catlike-stealthy motions into trolls' stamping. Narrowing his eyes, he drew his wand.

"Absorbe Sonitum," he mumbled, and while a shimmer of light embraced the bottom parts of the crutches and slowly infiltrated the wood, his expression changed into a smirk. Even if he could not regain the former grace of his movements – the trampling would at least no longer be audible.

Slowly but steadily Snape hobbled his way towards his office, which was just another corner of the corridor away. Satisfied over his now silent locomotion he contemplated the list of potions the amendment of which could be attempted using bergamot oil or essence. He rounded the corner and suddenly collided full-impact with something very small, which challenged his balance so dangerously that only an sudden clawing for a projection on the wall kept him from falling. With a loud rattle one of the crutches fell to the floor, and he panted in shock while he supported himself on the wall with a cramped hand. His gaze fell onto a student, who looked up to him, her eyes and mouth agape in horror.

"I… I'm s… sorry!" the child stuttered, trembling over her entire body. Snape recognised her as a Ravenclaw, apparently a first-year. "Please… I'm sorry," she repeated squeakingly.

Snape's body quivered in shock and the strain of holding on to the projection. Breathing heavily he glared at the girl through narrowed eyes. "Shouldn't you be in class?" he asked intimidatingly, while his gaze wandered over to the crutch on the ground. Desperately he wondered how in Merlin's name he could reach it before his strength would leave him. His wand was in his pocket, but if he let go of the wall…

"I… I needed to go to the toilet, Sir." The girl made a face as if she would faint any moment.

"Give me the crutch," the Slytherin hissed.

As if in slow motion the trembling child bowed down and took the crutch, while Snape's forehead slowly became damp with perspiration. Reluctantly, the girl held out her hand to hand over the crutch to the professor, her eyes downcast in fear under his piercing glare.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she repeated once more, while Snape – more than relieved inwardly – cautiously reached out for the support and placed it under his right armpit again.

"Should you ever annoy me again you will feel sorry indeed, Miss…"

"…Davitt, Professor," the child answered contritely.

"Well, Miss Davitt," Snape said. "I suggest you go to the toilet and out of my sight – instantly."

"Yes, Professor Snape," the girl whispered and hurried away, not daring to look back.

The Potions Master sighed silently and leaned heavily onto the crutches, drawing a couple of deep breaths. If the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters hadn't managed to make him meet his end – these insufferable brats would for sure one day, he thought, and then slowly continued his way to his near office.

After entering the dark room, he first opened a window to get rid of the biting stench, which had slapped him in his face the moment he had opened the door. One of the potions ingredients must have gone bad in the long time of his absence, he thought slightly annoyed. His trained nose identified the culprit in an instant – a pickled Kappa kidney, the hermetic sealing of which seemed to have become defective. With a wink of his wand he vanished the malodorous thing and somewhat awkwardly waved his hand in the air, hoping to get rid of the bad smell. He then sat at the desk and started to summon various preserving jars and other containers to check their contents. Through the door to the adjacent classroom low murmuring and sporadic noises were audible. It's suspiciously quiet, the Potions Master thought, and then continued concentrating on his inventory. After jar number 76 (ginseng root in spirit) a loud bang startled him and immediately placed a sneer onto his face. Pandemonium emerged on the other side of the door. Well, there you go…

After an hour of work and the cataloguing of 189 objects Snape's inventory was completed, and he contently scanned the list one last time. The change in noise level on the other side of the door told him that also the potions class seemed to be over, and so he rose cumbersomely to walk over to meet Madam Sprout.

He waited for the students' gabbling to subside and then opened the door. Madam Sprout was just picking up her notes as she saw him entering.

"Ah, Severus! How nice to see you!"

"Pomona," Snape answered her greeting blandly. "How did your class go? Any problems?" he asked with innocent expression.

"Nothing worth mentioning," Madam Sprout answered. "Just the usual minor incidents."

And an explosion, the Potions Master thought.

"However, I need to get some fresh cilantro leaves," the Hufflepuff chuckled. "One of my students made a mistake in quantity, with a bad result for his cauldron."

"It did not escape me. Seems to have been a rather strong pottage."

"Ah, that's not really a problem," Madam Sprout laughed. "Cauldrons can be replaced."

Together they set off, and the elderly witch patiently strolled alongside Snape.

"How are you lately, Severus?" she asked sympathetically. "It appears that walking with the crutches is working out more and more – isn't it?"

"Well – one practises," Snape answered and grimaced. "And Poppy is giving her best as well."

Yet, for that not even Poppy could do anything, Snape thought as they reached a staircase which appeared to lose itself in seemingly never-ending heights. Madam Sprout seemed to realise the problem as she lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Slowly, Severus," she said gently. "We are in no hurry."

And slowly indeed they climbed the stairs, step by step, and as they finally reached the top Snape breathed a restrained sigh of relief. Fortunately the exit to the greenhouses was not far and the rest of the way even.

"There are two nice big fruits," Madam Sprout said as she opened the door to the greenhouse. They stepped over the threshold and immersed in the warm and humid air that smelled of earth and plants. Every now and then Snape almost begrudged the herbology teacher these pleasant working conditions – particularly in wintertime.

"The bergamot trees are in the back on the left side," Madam Sprout said and pointed at the direction. "In the meantime I'll get the cilantro."

Snape slowly hobbled to the back of the greenhouse, cautiously evading some of the more fragile plants that grew into the narrow pathway. The fruits on the tree were in fact ripe, as he realised after applying a light thumb pressure. He picked the first one and weighed it in his hand. And rather big at that, he thought. Too big, actually, as the fruit didn't fit in the pocket of his robe. And since his hands were already bound to another usage… After a moment of consideration he drew his wand and bewitched the fruits to hover along behind his back.

"I hope you are aware that this looks a bit weird, Severus?" Madam Sprout grinned as Snape returned to her, the two bergamot fruits hovering up and down in the air behind him.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "A potions professor with some hovering ingredients? Why?"

The Hufflepuff laughed and took the basket full of cilantro leaves. "Let's go, Severus," she chuckled. "The air in here doesn't seem to do you good – it makes you unusually humorous."

"Hm," the Slytherin growled. Humorous... The first student who dared to laugh was going to regret it deeply, he thought, while he stepped out of the greenhouse and put on a frown.

o

ooo

o


A/N:

absorbere: to absorb (you would have guessed, wouldn't you? ;-))

sonitus: noise

Please review:-)