Edited: I edited the bit after the last page break because apparently I can't count months and seasons very well.

…

CHAPTER THIRTY – IN SICKNESS…

Draco decided there was really only one thing he could do. Heaving a sigh, his lungs and legs hurting, he muttered a spell to his wand, laying flat in the palm of his hand. It spun a moment before settling and pointing him where he wanted to go. Urging himself forward, fighting the exhaustion in his legs, he began to run, following the pointing of his wand, twisting and turning, away from the castle, through the trees. He had to skirt around Hogsmeade which made his task more challenging, but who knew who was in town right now? Draco wasn't currently the most popular with anyone. He skidded to a halt when he realized where the wand was taking him, pausing outside the familiar fence, and just some short distance in, the shrieking shack. The place chilled his bones, but he was not thirteen anymore and much had changed since he had dared Crabbe and Goyle to go past the fence when he himself would not have dared. Draco strode boldly past the fence, picking up his pace as he walked the pathway to the shack. Once inside he paused again, listening, but there were no sounds, just a sharp tangy smell and his wand spun wildly in his hand before settling into an uneasy vibration pointing at the stairs. Draco mounted them two at a time, stomping down the hall and drawing up short as he saw into the room.

Whatever version of Snape Draco had thought to find, it wasn't this version, bloodied and pale, one hand on the floor like it had been reaching for something, the other placed awkwardly against his throat. Draco had hoped he might find a standing Snape, permanently snide and very much alive. Draco moved forward slowly, as if approaching a wounded predator, and did what he could to find out if Snape was alive. Health and healing spells had never been his strong suit. But there, just barely, was a pulse so weak Draco felt his own slow. He quickly transfigured gauze from one of the nearby tattered rags and wrapped it as tightly around Snape's neck as he dared. Snape's eyelids fluttered, his head rocking slightly to motion down at the floor where his finger twitched. Draco followed his gaze impatiently towards some chain on the floor. "You want that?" Snape's nose dipped. Draco grabbed the chain, shoving it in his pocket and pulling out his wand again, levitating Snape and taking a deep, steady breath before grasping Snape's arm and twisting away with a crack.

Malfoy manor was empty, all shadows and reminiscent transformations of the Dark Lord. Draco reminded himself the dictator was never coming back, and forced himself past the ballroom-made-throne-room, up two flights of stairs to his own room, finally releasing Snape onto the bed. It felt like endless lifetimes ago that Snape had been here with Granger and their unusual attachment to each other. Draco huffed. And where was she now? Draco collected what healing potions they had but couldn't get any down Snape's throat. He had only one choice. The family doctor. He was a stern man, quiet, direct, and paid handsomely to keep his visits to the Malfoy house a complete secret. Draco conjured a patronus and sent for him, hoping the man was alive and available.

…

As wizarding society adjusted to the changes post war, Draco kept the patient in his room a secret, doubling the doctor's pay to come and go silently, never alerting Narcissa that he was there. Draco's father had been arrested quickly, the broken man practically turning himself in, perhaps if only to protect his family. Lucius' time in Azkaban was undetermined, the full extent of his crimes still being determined. Narcissa spent her time trying to make sure their family didn't sink too far down. Draco was certain that their known friendship with the thought-to-be-dead-now-honored-hero Severus Snape was Narcissa's only saving grace in her mostly futile efforts. Draco spent his time playing nursemaid. It was three months before Snape showed more signs of life than an occasional twitch or nonsense mumbled in his sleep. It was another three before he could sit up on his own and shakily pen out desires or needs. The doctor was ever vigilant, occasionally bringing his wife (a trusted nurse) with him, both of whom taught Draco what he needed to know to care for Snape when they were not there. Draco was glad in some ways that his father was gone and his mother was preoccupied, his caretaking was a full time effort and he had no desire to try to worm his way out of any questioning.

It was a usual late night changing the dressings on Snape's neck and feeding the man the usual slew of potions when Snape made all of his noises meant to draw attention. Draco watched as he grasped at the muggle pen and notebook Draco had gone into muggle London to hunt down, and began to scribble. Snape turned the notebook to Draco, tapping the page insistently. "Yeah, yeah I'm coming," Draco grumbled, pulling himself up from his chair and walking over to read what Snape had written. "You want that pocket watch? Yeah okay fine, I'll find it." Draco turned toward the closet in his room and to the side where he kept his cuff links and such in small drawers and searched around for the pocket watch Snape had silently demanded he pick up off of the floor of the Shrieking Shack. As far as Draco could tell, there was nothing special about it. Taking the chain, Draco carried the watch over to the bed and dropped it in Snape's lap. The man glared at him but immediately turned his attention to the gadget, wrapping his bare hands around it.

…

The metal of the pocket watch was cold in Severus' hands and he felt a twinge of fear that it would stay that way. He inhaled sharply – it hurt his neck – when the watch grew abnormally warm in his hands. She's alive! He exhaled slowly, letting the relief flood his body. He didn't know what to do about that information now that he had it. He could ask Draco to summon Hermione here, but would she dare answer? Or even come? Would Draco bother to contact her in the first place? He couldn't bloody well get up and find her, it took two people to walk him unsteadily to the bathroom during the day, and even that short distance exhausted him. Before he could ponder it anymore, the pocket watch disappeared from where it rested in his open palm and his head snapped up so he could glare at Draco, but the boy wasn't paying attention as he placed the watch down out of reach. "C'mon, we need to sleep." Draco grumbled, helping Severus to lie down and turning out the lights. Severus turned his head to stare at where he knew the watch was, but no matter how long he tried, he wasn't strong enough for wandless, non-verbal magic.

…

Instead of his determination winning him points, Severus' new-found motivation to get better faster ended up distracting greatly from his desire to get the watch back and hold onto it until the heat summoned Hermione to him. The watch remained out of reach – and eventually out of sight - as the stunned doctor and his nurse (wife?) used the momentum of his determination to speed up his rehabilitation. After some time of this, and a couple slow, painful, solo trips to the bathroom, Severus rapidly scrawled out a potion recipe, scratching out demands that he observe every step of the process. With some whining, Draco managed to transfigure an "adequate" lab out of the nearest empty room and observed Severus as he shuffled across the hall to it, where the doctor, the nurse, and Draco all planned to brew the potion under the watchful eye of the potions master.

Severus had been constructing the anti-venom in his mind from the moment he could maintain a full thought, modifying as time passed and his body processed Nagini's venom. What his caretakers failed to realize was that the venom and all of the healing potions counteracted each other, the potions significantly delayed the deteriorating effects of the venom on his body and the venom prevented the potions from actually doing their job to heal him. His body had been neutralized magically and was healing as if he were any normal muggle, slowly and inefficiently. But the anti-venom was set to cure that, to specifically target the venom and neutralize it, helping his body to break down the venom and allowing the healing potions room to do their job. It was genius in Severus' opinion, the only flaw being that he couldn't brew it himself. But Severus had to begrudgingly admit to himself that the trio were good at following his rapidly scribbled orders and following his instructions without fail. At the end of the two-week brewing and waiting process, the product was near-perfect. He hoped that this meant his voice would also begin to return.

…

To Severus' immense relief, the new regimen of potions actually took effect on his body, including his throat, he would be left with quite a scar, but his voice was slowly coming back, which was what really mattered, he was good enough at glamours to conceal whatever permanent damage was done to his neck. Through the window, Severus could see the change of seasons starting, the skies becoming clearer, some of the trees starting to bud, the chill in the air was lifting. "I am ready to leave." He rasped one evening.

"Where will you go?" Draco questioned with a note of derision.

Severus glanced down at the pocket watch that had been taken out again at his request, but which he had yet to touch again. "To find a friend."