Author's note: I broke this into two chapters to avoid another super long one. Part Two will be posted in a couple of days.
36. The Scars They Left, Part One
In spite of everything, and disregarding Severus's strenuous objections, Warbeck had refused to press charges against Nott. And the Defense teacher wasn't alone in his belief that she was out of her bloody mind. When Susanna found out what had happened, she'd declared in a rage, "If your father was still alive, I guarantee that little bastard wouldn't be!" And if the woman were a witch, Severus was sure that she'd go after him herself.
Longbottom was equally aghast at the girl's decision. "Callie, I can't let this lie," he'd insisted. "I can't let him get away with what he did to you."
Rolling her eyes, Warbeck replied, "It was only a couple of slaps."
"'A couple of slaps?!'" he exclaimed. "If Ron put a hand on Hermione, you'd Cruciate him!"
"So you're telling me you want to do that to Theo?" she asked, her tone conveying that she didn't believe that he would. Or could.
"No – I wanna beat the shit out of him."
Beside Warbeck, Severus thought, Better him than me. Perhaps the Ministry would look the other way if it were one of their own.
With a sigh, the girl said, "Look… I know you're trying to defend my honor, but I don't appreciate the 'white knight' thing right now. I don't want you going off and making this worse than it already is."
"You almost died, it couldn't get any worse than that! And if he can hit you and not face any consequences, then who's to say he wouldn't do it to the next girl that comes along?"
"Don't try and guilt me into pressing charges, Neville. Or justify roughing him up. I've done my own fighting, I wanna be finished with this! All right?"
No, it wasn't all right. But the boy didn't want to upset her any further, and he'd promised to stay away from Nott when he went back to London.
Over the next two weeks, Severus discovered that while she may go on to be a fine healer, Warbeck was a terrible patient. In addition to expressing that she felt like "a complete invalid," she complained every day about being mind-numbingly bored, relying on sleeping draughts simply to eat up the time. When she wasn't knocked out, she was begging Healer Gold to lift the Paralysis Charm ("I'll keep still, I promise!"), refusing to be spoon-fed as opposed to continuing on nutrient potions, and asking for pain relievers, claiming that everything from her back to her bum to her legs was constantly sore.
As long as she was awake, Severus was at her side, providing the "entertainment" she'd requested of him. For the most part, they continued with their work on the vaccine, discussing what should be added, eliminated, or modified. He would brew them up and test their safety on the mice, reporting back to her with the results. She also liked having him read to her, whether from an informative text, a narrative, or the Prophet.
But he wasn't allowed to see the letter she'd received from Nott five days after the splinching. Instead, she'd ordered him to leave the wing while Mavis read it to her. After she'd had the elf burn the letter, Severus asked, "What did he say?"
"Same as last time," she replied. "'Please forgive me, I'm sorry, I love you.'"
The Defense teacher was caught off guard by that last. "He told you he loves you?"
"Aye." She didn't appear very affected by the boy's claim, yet it didn't sit well with Severus. He believed that Nott couldn't have possibly meant it, but if they'd gotten to a point where I love you's were exchanged, had she expressed the same sentiment?
After a moment, he asked in a quiet voice, "Was it reciprocated?" With her answer of "no" came a feeling of relief, and a voice in the back of his head was asking, Why would it have bothered you if she'd said yes?
Because it most definitely would've hurt her a lot more if she had been in love with him, he reasoned. And he'd never liked seeing her in pain, neither emotional or physical.
About ten days into her hospitalization, he'd woken up in the middle of the night to go and check on her (he'd finally gone back to sleeping in his quarters after she'd come out of the coma), and found her whimpering in the darkness.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "Why are you crying?" She couldn't wipe her eyes, so her conjured a handkerchief and did it himself.
With a sniffle, she said, "I hate this so much. Being stuck in this bed, having nothing to look at but the bloody ceiling. Not being able to move at all." Another sniffle. "I know the whining is getting on everybody's nerves, but this is awful, Sev. You don't realize how ridiculously slowly time goes by when you have nothing to do with it." She paused, before continuing, "I feel disgusting. I haven't been able to bathe in two weeks. And you know I'm not that sensitive – my back and everything really does hurt. Imagine being in the same position for days on end, not being able to adjust. Pomfrey and Gold said I need to tone it down with the sleeping draughts and painkillers, but I can't get through this otherwise."
Her misery distressed him, and after a moment, he said, "I'll get you all the sleeping draughts and painkillers you want. They're afraid you'll become dependent on them, but I'll see to it that doesn't happen."
Continuing to weep, she asked, "What day is it?"
"Wednesday – the 20th." Checking his watch, "2:57 am."
She scrunched up her face in an attempt to quell the tears, then said, "I'm sorry, but… I don't wanna be alone." After a pause, "Meíne mazí mou apópse." Stay with me tonight.
He sat down beside her bed, claiming, "You don't have to be sorry."
"It's the middle of the night. Don't tell me you wouldn't rather be in a nice, comfortable bed than in here."
"I hardly ever sleep well anyway. I'm fine with it." The truth was that, if anybody was dependent on sleeping potions, it was him. But he hadn't been taking them as of late, because he made it a point to get up every night to look in on her. Eventually she got control of herself, and Severus said, "Tell me the first thing you want to do when you get out."
She only gave it a second of thought before replying, "I wanna have a proper bath. I stink like dried blood and I'm sure my hair is oilier than yours at this point."
"Hmph," he smirked. "Vicious as always."
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On day seventeen, Healer Gold decided he was comfortable with finally lifting the charm. Severus, Madam Pomfrey, and Susanna (who'd refused to leave Hogwarts until she could see for herself that the paralysis wouldn't be permanent) had gathered at Warbeck's side. The doctor lifted up her daughter's hand, inspecting her fingernails and noting their royal blue color. "Who did this?" she asked.
The girl shifted her eyes towards Severus, attempting - and failing - to suppress a grin. With a mix of irritation and embarrassment on his face, he reminded her, "We agreed never to speak of this to anyone."
"I didn't say anything," she replied cheekily.
Healer Gold came to stand beside her bed, and said, "All right, Professor. Are you ready to quash the doctor's fears of you never walking again?" He shot a smirk over at Susanna, who rolled her eyes.
The inpatient younger woman urged, "Yes, get me out of these damn binds already."
"Keep your knickers on," Susanna said. "Don't go tossing around and ripping your stitches open."
"There are no stitches." The tissues had simply been fused together with spells.
With an exasperated sigh, the doctor replied, "You know what I mean."
"I want you to stay still while I inspect the wounds," Gold informed his patient. "You oughtn't move until I give the okay." With that, he spoke the incantation, slowly running his wand from her toes up to her neck. When he was finished, he said, "Let us not torture the woman any further. Go ahead and give me a thumbs up."
The potions mistress did as told, and her mother breathed a sigh of relief, turning her eyes skyward and whispering, "God, thank you."
However, Warbeck's expression became slightly anxious, and she informed the healer, "I can't lift my arm up."
"Your muscles have weakened due to disuse. It's nothing to worry about. We'll take care of that with strengthening charms." Carefully, he undid the bandage on her shoulder and inspected the area, examined it physically, then performed a spell that provided a view into her deeper tissues. "It's all coming along very well," he informed them. Once he'd determined that the shoulder was sufficiently healed, he pulled the bedcurtain shut as he moved on down her torso. Susanna and Pomfrey remained at his side - the former to observe, the latter to assist - while Severus sat beyond the curtain. "Madam Pomfrey, would you help me turn her over?"
Severus could hear the mattress shifting, and after a moment, Warbeck exclaimed, "Oh, my God!"
Jumping to his feet, he called out, "What? What is it?"
Before she could respond, Gold asked, "Are you all right, Callie? Any sudden pain, sharp or stabbing?"
"No, I... I..." she stammered.
When she didn't go on, Susanna asked, in a somewhat panicked tone, "What's wrong?"
"'What's wrong?' I look like something out of Frankenstein's laboratory! Bloody hell, why didn't you tell me?!"
"What are you talking about?" Severus asked, half-tempted to open the curtain and find out what the hell was going on in there.
"There's a scar," she explained. "There is a huge scar going down my chest. It's horrific!"
That's it? the Defense teacher thought. With a roll of his eyes, he replied, "Well of course there's a scar, you were completely torn open."
Sounding a bit irritated, Susanna said, "Honestly, Callie, you can't be serious right now. You almost died, you were comatose for three days, paralyzed for over two weeks, and this is what you're going to upset yourself over?"
"Mum, this thing is never gonna go away. The scratch on my arm from that torture quill is still visible, and that was a God damn papercut compared to this."
"The wound is relatively fresh, Professor," Gold cut in. "It won't always be this distinct. In time, it'll fade."
"Not completely," she argued. "Merlin's beard, I'm going to have this thing for the rest of my life. Every time I look at myself I'll be reminded of..." She trailed off, and Severus wondered whether she'd been about to say Nott, specifically, or the entire experience.
"The only thing that matters is that you're alive," Susanna reminded. "And you're well." To the healer, presumably, she asked, "Right?"
"Everything is as it should be," he replied. "You're going to have to take it easy for a while, but you can feel free to move around as long as you're careful. I'm going to keep you here another week or so, for observation." He finished the examination, then said, "We'll perform the strengthening charms in increments so as not to overstretch the muscle, which could result in wound reopening."
"Can we start now, for God's sake?" Warbeck asked. "Finally the paralysis is gone, and still I can barely move."
The healer agreed to give her a mild boost of strength, and when they opened the curtain, she was propped up against a pillow, a disheartened expression on her face. Susanna attempted to convince her that the scar wasn't important in the grand scheme of things, but the girl appeared to be on the verge of tears. Eventually, the older woman wandered off out of the wing, leaving her daughter and Severus to themselves, and the latter commented, "All you've wanted for the last two weeks was your mobility. You have it now. You ought to be a little more cheerful."
With a tightened jaw, she replied, "My whole body is ruined. This isn't your ordinary scar, it's a deformity."
"Don't be dramatic," he said. "I wouldn't have assumed that you'd be this concerned about an issue of vanity."
She turned to face him, holding his gaze for a moment, before she pulled the neckline of her robe aside, revealing the mark that came over her shoulder and down her collarbone area. It certainly wasn't subtle, approximately an inch thick and dark red, standing out violently against her pale skin. "It goes all the way down to here," she said, indicating her upper abdomen. "And all down my back." She paused, and then a look of realization came over her. "That regenerative charm you did when Goyle cut my arm up - can you do that with this?"
"No," he said. "The wound has to be fresh. It would have no effect on tissue that's already healed to this extent." She threw her head back and sighed in disappointment. Severus went on, "You aren't 'ruined,' Warbeck. It's only skin, it's insignificant."
"This is not insignificant," she insisted. "It takes up my entire upper body. It's impossible to ignore. I can't pretend it isn't there, it's..." she looked down into her robe "...it's all I can see now."
His eyes shifted to his own arm; under his sleeve was what remained of the Dark Mark, a vivid red, indefinable shape that used to be the skull-and-snake design. He uncovered it to show Warbeck, and said, "When I take off my shirt, all I can see is this. I hate it. It feels as through the thing is mocking me. As if I'm always carrying around a piece of Voldemort." He paused, gazing down at the Mark pensively. "Calls to mind all my worst memories. Reminds me of the terrible acts I committed. This is significant." Nodding to the girl's shoulder, "But that isn't. It doesn't define you. It doesn't say anything about who you are. It's only skin."
She considered all of that, and replied, "But it is a piece of him. All I want is to forget this, and now..." she shook her head to herself "...it's always going to be there - mocking me."
He didn't know what else to say to try and ease her mind, so instead he attempted to distract her. "Is your back still aching?"
"Always," she said. He stood up and ordered her to turn over on her stomach, helping her along as she struggled to do so. "What's this for?" she asked.
Rather than explaining, he set his hands on her lower back and began to massage the area. At his touch, she made a groaning sound, and he asked, "Does that help or hurt?"
"Helps," she said. "You have no idea how good that feels." Despite this, he could hear her whimpering after a couple of minutes, but he chose not to comment.
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"No offense, Madam, but I never want to come into this part of the castle again." It was New Year's Day and Callie had finally been discharged from the hospital wing.
"And no offense to you, Professor," Pomfrey replied with a smile, "but I'm happy to see you go."
The matron brought a wheelchair to Callie's bedside, and the latter remarked, "That's not necessary." She was still sore and a bit wobbly on her feet - despite the strengthening charms - but she was fully capable of walking by this point.
But Pomfrey argued, "It's a bit of a trek to your quarters. At least bring it along in case you need a rest."
"I'm not that weak anymore. I'm sure I can manage."
"Don't overexert yourself. Remember what Healer Gold said."
"Aye." It did take a bit of effort to get up from the bed, but it wasn't as though she were crippled. Twice a day, Gold had had her up and walking around the wing in order to build up her stamina. By now, she was able to get around fine with the help of a cane.
Presently, Snape handed it over, and the two of them made their way out, with him pushing the wheelchair behind her. "I said I didn't need it," Callie stated.
His only response was, "Yes, I heard you." They crossed the entrance hall and he opened up the door to the dungeons. Nodding down the long stairwell, he asked, "Are you going to make it all the way down without stumbling?"
She rolled her eyes and replied sarcastically, "I'll try." However, as she took the first step, her knee buckled and she almost hit the ground. The Defense teacher caught her in both arms.
"I win," he said. "Get in the chair."
Having lost her grip on the cane, which had tumbled down the steps, she was now rather helpless. Sighing in defeat, she huffed, "Fine."
He charmed the steps into a ramp while she sat, and when he went to give her a push, she held up a hand and said, "I can do it myself."
"It's a steep slope and your arms are weakened. As amusing as it would be to watch you roll along at top speed, I am not going to be blamed for allowing you to end up back in a hospital bed."
She gave in and let him take her all the way to her quarters, where she was greeted by Mavis. "Your bath is ready, ma'am," she said. "I've added jasmine oil, Epsom salts, and rose petals to the water, as per your request."
Callie replied, "You're an angel." For the past three weeks, she'd had to rely on sponge baths to keep clean, and presently she wanted nothing more than to spend a good hour soaking in the tub.
"Can I get you anything?" Snape asked as she started off toward the bedroom.
"Bottle of wine," she said. "And put the record player on." It felt so good to be out of the hospital wing and back in her own living space, but her spirits fell when she took off her clothes and stood in front of the bathroom mirror.
She really was ruined. The scar appeared right in the center of her upper torso, coming over her shoulder, trailing between her breasts, and going down to her solar plexus. I used to have the perfect body, she thought. Such a claim may have been conceited, but it was true. Despite the years of objectification by males, she'd secretly taken pride in her physical appearance. And how ironic that she'd ended up like this.
Pride is a deadly sin, she told herself. Never again would she be able to sin when she looked at her body; there was nothing to take pride in now. And what were people - i.e., lovers - going to think when they saw her? All they would see was a disfigurement.
I can't be sexy anymore. God damn you, Theo.
A couple of weeks later, she brought this up in a counseling session with Orphie. "I feel like he spoiled me," she said. "And it isn't just a scar; it's like he's marked me as his own. Every time I look at myself... Every time somebody else looks at me, he'll be there. I'm going to have to explain it all to every man I'm ever with from now on." She paused, before adding, "If they don't run away in horror first."
Orphie considered that, and remarked, "You feel as though he has a hold on you, of which you can't break free. The presence of the scar keeps you symbolically bound to him against your will."
"Exactly," Callie confirmed. "I hate it. I hate that he ruined my body, I hate that..." She trailed off, pondering it all. "Ya know what's even worse? He's left me feeling powerless. Vulnerable - in a physical sense. He isn't very big, but..." she bowed her head rather shamefully as she concluded "...he overpowered me."
She had always considered herself a devout feminist - there was nothing a man could do that a woman could not. But when Theo had shoved her across the room and had her cowering in the corner, for the first time in her life she'd gotten a sense of herself as the weaker sex. "And I should've been able to get away safely," she continued. "It only takes a second to Disapparate, but even that wasn't quick enough. I can't protect myself, apparently. Not without a wand."
After a moment, Orphie asked, "Do you worry that you could be subjected to abuse by a future partner?"
Shaking her head, Callie replied, "I wouldn't let that happen. It didn't come completely out of nowhere with Theo. I could see him getting worked up. I'd know to walk away now before it could get violent."
"That's good. You can protect yourself. You've learned to recognize the warning signs. Defending yourself doesn't have to mean physically overpowering your assailant. Removing yourself from the situation altogether is not only your safest option, but the smartest."
The woman had a point, but Callie said, "Even so... I wish I could've fought back. Neville wanted to go and beat the hell out of him, and he could have. But not me." Bitterly, she added, "The weak little female needed a man to fight her battles."
"No, she didn't," Orphie argued. "You got away from him and you survived. That was your battle, and you won it. You didn't need anyone to save you - you did that yourself. You are not weak." Standing up and coming out from behind her desk, she went on, "But you are angry. He's made you feel powerless, regardless of whether or not that's true." She then conjured a punching bag and said, "Pretend this is Theo. You wanna have a go at him, now's your chance. Show him that you're not a 'weak little female.' Better yet, show yourself."
Callie hesitated, then rose up and stood in front of the bag for a moment, thinking of the times that Theo had hit her. She could picture it with perfect clarity, and allowed the feelings of vulnerability and anger - and even the physical sting of his hand against her cheek - flood her mind. With that, she pounded her fist against the bag, and Orphie cocked a brow, appearing surprised at the force with which she did so. The potions mistress took a breath, noting the strange sense of relief that came with letting her emotions out in such a physical way. After a moment's hesitation, she hit the bag again - and again and again, her anger rising with every strike.
"You aren't powerless," Orphie commented. "You don't need Neville or anyone else to fight your battles. You have always been a fighter. You've stood up against tougher opponents than Theodore Nott and you've come out stronger every time. You're not going to let him defeat you."
No, she wasn't. And as she continued to pound on the bag, she was imagining Theo's face. Between punches, she growled, "Never... ever... ever... again!" She took one final shot that left the bag swinging, then stood back to catch her breath. As she returned to a calmer state, it occurred to her that it wasn't only Theo who she'd been directing her anger towards. She had also felt a good deal of resentment towards herself, for remaining with him.
The devout feminist wouldn't have stayed after that first slap. If only she'd kept away from him, then she wouldn't have almost died, and she wouldn't have this horrendous scar on her chest. Nor would she have ended up feeling so maddeningly weak, not only physically, but as a woman who'd "allowed" a man to abuse her.
Never again, she repeated to herself. And with a look of resolve on her face, she declared out loud, "I am not a woman who gets hit."
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There'd been a definite shift in the girl's demeanor that hadn't improved much over time. She'd been quieter than normal, often with a distracted look in her eye, and she'd taken to exclusively wearing turtleneck sweaters in order to cover up the scar. Severus would watch her every day and wonder if this dulled version of the ordinarily vibrant potions mistress was here to stay, and then curse Theodore Nott for breaking her spirit.
The entire situation had reopened old wounds for the Defense teacher. He couldn't help but see a bit of his mother in Warbeck, and the thought of Nott smacking her around brought him right back to childhood, and watching Tobias do the same to Eileen.
He and Warbeck were grading assignments on the evening of Valentine's Day, when she informed him, "Got a letter from Theo today." Severus wasn't surprised. She's received many letters from the bastard over the previous two months, and he'd even tried to see her when she was in the hospital wing, but she'd refused him. "He just won't take no for an answer."
Severus remarked, "I don't know why you bother to read them. Is there anything he could possibly say to convince you to return?" He'd phrased it as though it were a rhetorical question, but secretly he worried she'd eventually give in to Nott's pleas and go back to him.
However, she sounded resolute when she replied, "No. But I'm still curious."
He wasn't entirely convinced, but he let it go. "Anything new or interesting to report, or is it more of the same?"
In a tone that suggested she was bored of it all, she gave him the gist. "'I'm sorry, I love you, forgive me.' I don't even have to read them. I can practically recite the entire thing without even looking at it." After a pause, she added, "I got a daffodil, too." Her favorite flower. A little something special for the romantic holiday.
Manipulative fuck, Severus thought. The boy was still trying to win her over with sappy letters and cliched tokens of affection. Don't buy into it, Warbeck. And he didn't love you, he was obsessed with you.
They sat in silence for a while, before he spoke. "I had another dream last night." Up until now, his nightmares had most often revolved around the war. But what with all that had gone on as of late, he was now plagued by visions of Tobias's abuse, both of Eileen and of himself. "Tobias was Cruciating me," he said. "My mother was standing there watching. I was begging her to help me, but she didn't seem particularly bothered. She had this vacant look in her eye, almost as though she didn't even see it." That was rather reflective of reality; though she hadn't been quite cold enough to actively watch the man abuse her son (she would turn away or go into another room), very rarely had she ever attempted to come to Severus's rescue.
After a pause, he remarked in a quiet voice, "All these years I've wondered what was going through her mind the first time he struck her. Why she didn't immediately walk away." Meeting Warbeck's eye, "Perhaps you can give me a bit of insight as to why a woman would remain with somebody who'd harm her." She didn't respond right away, and appeared troubled by his query. Recognizing that it probably sounded as though he were blaming her again for the second slap, he added, "This isn't a criticism - I only want to understand her better. I was hoping you might be able to help with that."
That seemed to ease her mind, and she pondered the question for a long moment. "I wanted to believe that it wasn't going to happen again," she finally replied. "Up until then, I'd thought he was a decent bloke. We'd had fun together, we understood each other... It was the good parts that I was holding on to." She paused, before adding, "As for the bad, I chalked it up as a one-off mistake, and not an indication of his temperament."
Considering that, he felt that it didn't do much to explain Eileen's decision to stay with Tobias. "The way she spoke about my father," he said, "I was under the impression there were never any good parts. He was always terrible."
"He might not have been in the beginning," Warbeck suggested. "Theo wasn't. You said your parents didn't know each other very long before they got married." The pair's courtship had been rather brief before they'd found out she was pregnant, and then they'd immediately taken the "respectable" step of legitimizing their relationship. "Sometimes it takes a while for people to show their true nature," the girl went on. "And then she had a small child to take care of, and no family, no friends, no support. She probably held out hope that things would get better, that the last time he hit her really would be the last time. I know that eventually she just..." a shrug "...became accustomed to it, but that first time is surprisingly easy to excuse."
But so was the second, apparently. And the third, the fourth, the hundredth. Severus wondered how much Warbeck would've endured if she'd been in the same situation as Eileen, burdened with an infant and having no means with which to provided for herself or her child.
He asked her that very question, and she replied, "I know I wouldn't let anyone lay a hand on my kid. I would take them and live off the land if that was my only option."
With that, Severus asked himself why Eileen had never felt such an inclination to protect her son. Was it because she resented him for the way her life had turned out? Or did she figure, "Better him than me," when it came to Tobias's abuse? Or did she simply not care?
The next time he took a chance at getting through the night without a Dreamless Sleep Potion, he found himself being led by his mother, her hand grasped around his, towards their home on Spinner's End. But when they went inside, they were met, not by Tobias, but by Voldemort. "The Dark Lord will take care of you now," the woman said in a flat tone. Severus then watched helplessly as she went over to a noose that was hanging in the middle of the room and wrapped it around her neck.
"Mummy, no!" he shouted, reaching out for her. When he did so, the Dark Lord grabbed his wrist and held his wand to Severus's inner forearm, branding him with the Mark. Severus screamed in agony as fire shot through his veins, and the last thing he saw was Tobias coming up behind Eileen and taking her head in his hands.
It was the sickening crack of her neck that caused Severus to bolt up in bed, gasping for breath and covered in sweat.