Remembrance and Renewal by Nigel Tatsuya and Avatar Arkmage
Chapter Fourteen: Ghost of a Violent Father
Harry eagerly looked up at the sound of his grandmother's voice, hope filling his heart until it threatened to overflow. Hope metamorphosed into dismay at Mervidith Snape's unchanged, haggard form; her stillness reminiscent of a living death. Her night sky-black eyes watched something ahead of her, both distant and directly before her simultaneously. She was oblivious to the very presence of her grandson.
"Grandmother..." The memories of all that he had seen on his journey outside of time, filled him anew, and played like a discordant symphony. Once more, he saw this woman being abused at the hands of her own husband. For many years. Beatings alone, or alongside her son.
Harry tried to shut those memories out, but his overzealous efforts only intensified them. He saw those dark eyes again, and remembered when they were sparkling with happiness. His grandmother's every expression held nothing but the purest love just for him. How Harry longed to see her happy again, but more so, he longed to have a living grandmother of his very own.
Then came visions of Mervidith willingly bearing the cruciatus curse, in her misguided, though brave endeavour to spare her son a life of servitude to Voldemort. Harry clenched his teeth, and tried to think of something else, anything else, but unabated, the memory of this meek, though loving woman bearing the brunt of Voldemort's wrath endured.
Unable to tolerate any more, Harry began to cry in silence, gently rocking his grandmother to and fro in his arms. "Oh grandmother, why did you put yourself in danger all those years ago? Did you think Voldemort would have let father go if he simply refused to take the mark? Even if the Cruciatus had killed you, and father still hadn't agreed to take the mark, Voldemort would have found another way to enslave him! Why did you have to be so...so good? You suffered your whole life! What was it all for?" Into his sadness, anger intruded forcefully. "You sacrificed so much for others... But what of yourself?"
"And... and what about me?" Harry asked as tears began to dampen Mervidith's long white hair. "I need you, grandmum. Father and I both do. You're here, but yet... you're also gone."
Even though the woman did not move, her arms some how remained around Harry, despite his angry quivering. "Maybe it's better that you're unaware of me, after all . Otherwise, you'd be angry at all that's happened since, and disappointed that I failed to kill Voldemort. So many chances... so many chances I've had to put an end to him once and for all, and I failed every time! I never saw the importance of training myself up so that I could stand against him. Granted, I did train, my friends and I even formed the Dumbledore's Army so we could train ourselves and others, but we didn't train as hard as we should have. I let my petty anger get the better of me more than once. I am the reason my Godfather, Sirius Black is dead, and I nearly caused the death of my two best friends as well. Even father..." Harry's voice became incoherent as his own whimpering took control of his throat. At the same time, he was amazed at what it was possible to say to one who was physically present, but could not understand the words. He needed someone to talk to, and who better than a member of one's own family. These were fears and sources of shame he could not confide to his friends, or even to his father, at least not yet. To a loving grandmother, all seemed possible. "I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again. When I die, if you tell my spirit to stay away..."
"Why on Earth would I ask such a thing of you, dear little angel?" came a familiar, yet disembodied voice from just above him.
Harry did not want to look up. He did not want his last vestige of comfort dashed again. He clung even more stubbornly to Mervidith Snape's slight form, careful not to apply so much pressure as to break any bones, or to restrict her breathing.
"Harry?" His grandmother's voice resounded.
Harry could not resist, and looked fully at his grandmother's motionless face. He must have been imagining things. He had imagined his grandmother's voice. Was it born of his intense anger, or perhaps of his need for absolution? "Wonderful! I'm imagining things now!" Harry berated himself. "I must be insane, there can be no other explanation. Sometimes when a person wishes for something with enough convic..."
Harry froze when he sensed, rather than felt, a kiss gently placed on his forehead. He looked directly above his grandmother, and saw the ghostly image of Mervidith Snape leaning over him! Strangely, she looked as she did the very day Harry had watched her go insane under the cruciatus curse. Her waist-length hair was the colour of hot coals once more, with intermittent streaks of white throughout. Her body was no longer skeletal, and her eyes were twinkling, regarding Harry with only love in her obsidian eyes; just as she had in the time not so long before Harry was born.
"For years, I feared that something had happened to hinder your birth, or that you had been killed, or perhaps that you hadn't even been conceived. " His grandmother's voice reverberated in Harry's mind. "Why would I ever want to send you away? Grandchildren aren't called 'GRAND-children' without reason. You're my grandchild, and though I've only met you just a short while ago, I find you to be far too GRAND a child for me to wish away."
Harry expected to wake up at any moment. This had to be a dream. It was too surreal. Dreams often failed to be logical, and reflected one's desires. This one fit the criteria perfectly. He was holding his grandmother in his arms, and yet she also was standing over him.
"You're not dreaming." Mervidith said, as though she were able to read Harry's thoughts. "And you certainly aren't insane."
"Then," Harry stopped to wipe his eyes and nose on his sleeve, "how...I mean, I'm holding you, yet you're a ghost. But you're alive...how can you be a ghost, but have a living body?"
Mervidith appeared perplexed. "I-I don't know?" She knelt beside Harry, and put a ghostly arm over his shoulder; both grandmother and grandchild relieved at her having the capability to do this. "Maybe I'm trapped somewhere between death and life? I really don't know."
"Maybe your body didn't die, but you somehow did?" Harry speculated.
"Or perhaps all that fighting, and your being so harsh on yourself just now... scolding yourself like that, is enough to wake the dead?" Mervidith whispered, attempting to dry Harry's tears with her ghostly sleeves. "Please don't blame yourself so, whatever it is you think you've done, it can't have been worse than my foibles."
Harry bowed his head, deciding that he should not do or say anything to upset his grandmother, lest she disappear, and never appear to him again.
"Curious, I have not been able to communicate with anyone for many years. You're the first. How is it that you are able to hear me?"
"And I can also see you too, Grandmother. Maybe it's some sort of bond family members have for each other? When I first saw you, I knew you were Snape's...I mean Professor Snape's mother, but I was drawn to you, as well as to him, yet I didn't understand why. Only later did I find out that you both were related to me."
"Only my grandson could reach across time like that."
"You don't look like a ghost really, not like the ones at Hogwarts at least. You look like you're flesh, like you're here, and alive. I can even see the colour of your hair and your skin, but you're a bit transparent. I can see the rafters behind you."
Mervidith turned, and looked at the rafters. She rose into the air, reaching for them, but her ascent was halted when she was only a metre or so above her body. "I can't be dead. I can't meander far from my body."
Harry then noticed that the spirit appeared to be fettered by means of long silvery strands, which seemed to emanate from her physical body and form shackles upon her spectral wrists and ankles.
"It appears that I'm not a full-fledged disembodied spirit yet. Perhaps as long as blood circulates through my veins, I won't be able to die..."
"Good job, I don't want you to die!"
"How could I, besides? I would miss far too many years with my precious grandson. Oh, you can't know how happy I am, now that I know you've made it safely into this world. How I wish my body were my own again, and not a prison, so that we could spend time together."
Harry smiled, despite the fact that tears flowed profusely from his eyes. "In my first year at Hogwarts, I found the Mirror of Erised, and saw my deepest desire reflected in it. I saw a big, loving family surrounding me. Even though your body is immobile, and you're talking to me as a spirit, I would not trade the fact that I still have you for anything, Grandmother."
"It was hard with all those people visiting me over the years, missing me, and it was distressing to not being able to communicate with any of them. I longed to ask after you." Mervidith squeezed Harry's shoulders reassuringly. "The cruciatus curse left my nervous system so damaged that I can not move on my own accord. For years I have had to watch Sevvie-- uh your father grieve after me, as well as for you. I listened to him chastise himself each time he visited me, telling me how sorry he was I ended up existing rather than living, and how he should have been the one in this state. How could he blame himself so? Even though he disobeyed his father repeatedly throughout his formative years, and studied potions, that cannot be the reason he was forced to join the Death Eaters." Mervidith sighed. "But I could tell him nothing. Most painful of all, Severus would often tell me how he had failed your mother, and his little green-eyed angel..."
"He didn't fail! I'll tell him what you just told me! He has no control how sadistic Voldemort likes to be! Why does he blame himself so much?" Harry sniffled, feeling sorry he had ever harboured ill feelings toward the respectable man that was his father.
Mervidith looked as though she were about to answer, but kept silent. Harry realised that he had answered his own questions. Evidently self-blame was something both he and his father excelled at.
"He didn't know about me at the time either! Mum never told him she was pregnant."
"Lily...your mother, she must have done what she felt was best to keep those she loved safe. A mother would gladly present her child with the stars if her child asked for them, and if it were within her power to harness them from the sky." Mervidith said, her ghostly hand rubbing soothing circles on Harry's back. "Oh, how I tried to tell Sevvie about your existence. He did not believe me at first, being the stubborn man he is."
"Yes, he is stubborn, I'm so glad he's accepted me though," Harry choked, his voice threatening to fail at any moment, " at least in his own way. At one time, I thought I hated the man. He's so mean to all of his students, especially those of us from Gryffindor House. But when I saw glimpses of his life, and what made him the way he is now, I couldn't help but feel so connected to him. I never thought I could feel this kind of love before."
"It is the love known only between parents and children." Mervidith said knowingly. "And that love is not so far removed from the love only a grandparent and grandchild can hold for each other." Harry's eyes filled with tears. "When you first began to appear in my dreams, I could not wait to meet you. And that day when you sat across me in the kitchen back in Alsace, and you handed the peach back to me after it rolled on the floor...I wished you weren't only a preborn spirit then, I wanted you to join us at the table for dinner. I longed to set another place just for you."
Harry remembered always envying Ron over his having such a large family with loving siblings and parents. Did he dare dream of this? For a family of his very own?
"Following my being tortured into insanity at the hands of Voldemort, I felt your presence in my hospital room." Mervidith said. "Sevvie had been badly hurt as well, and that was the first time he was able to visit me since we were brought into the hospital. I sensed that you were there beside him."
"Yes, yes I was..." Harry shivered when he thought of the horrible things he had witnessed; his grandmother shrieking in the throes of the cruciatus curse, and his father's agonized screams when Voldemort and his henchmen... when they... What they had done was so horrendous that it was agony for Harry to even think of what he had witnessed. It was a blessing that he had averted his eyes, and hadn't seen the actual carnage, but he could not shield himself against the horrible sounds of his father's assault. Rage imploded within him, and threatened to overtake any available reasoning. "I'll deal with Voldemort properly this time!" Harry mouthed.
"Oh," Mervidith noted the fierce expression on Harry's face. "Such anger...I knew the same anger for years, my precious angel grandchild. But right at this moment, I find that I cannot feel the strife and wrath that I used to feel at least once every day before..."
Harry looked at his grandmother in awe.
"Right now, my happiness at seeing you again, after far too many years. That you've lived after all, I find that my love for you eclipses all of my anger." Mervidith said, her spiritual body wrapping itself around Harry.
Grandmother and grandchild held one another for a long, staggered moment. When Mervidith shifted her position at last, her spectral foot came in contact with the sealed package containing Severus's arm. "Oh my!" the older woman gasped. "You had better take this back to Severus."
"But what about you, Grandmum?" Harry said, not willing to break contact with Mervidith's motionless body.
"Hmm..." Mervidith thought. "If you leave me here, I'll be dead in a few days, as I can't care for myself. I don't think I could set foot on the grounds of Hogwarts again, and it might be hard for you to carry me all the way back to St. Mungos. But since I didn't die properly, perhaps if you left me..."
"No! I won't leave you here to die! Don't ever leave me again, grandmum!" Harry commanded, clinging to the woman intensely. What had come over him?
"As long as you need me, my precious grandson, I will always be with you. I just thought since my flesh is useless, I might be more help to you as a spirit free of a body." Mervidith said reassuringly.
"And what your spirit leaves this world altogether?" Harry speculated. "No, I don't want to leave you here to die, not as long as there is a chance that something could still be done. Technologies have advanced greatly in the last seventeen years, maybe there's something out there that could make you better?"
"If you and Severus would come and visit me every now and again, that would be more than enough reason for me to stay. Well then, take my body back to St. Mungos, and for heaven's sake, take that arm back to Sevvie. He has quite the temper, and he's liable to have a fit if he realises it has gone missing."
"Is he going to be ruddy mad at me!" Harry moaned, watching the arm as it twitched within the package.
"He will understand if you explain to him the way you've just explained to me." Mervidith stroked Harry's cheek. "At least, I hope he does."
"No he won't..."
"Well, not at first, but he'll understand when he calms down I'm sure." Mervidith knelt before Harry. "And please, dear little grandson, come and visit me on weekends if you can get away from school. We've been apart for too many years."
Looking first at the woman's motionless body, and then at the ethereal being, Harry gathered up both and headed back to St. Mungos. All the way there, he quietly told her of things that had transpired during her many years imprisoned in her nerve-damaged body.
"It burns, father! It burns!" Severus wailed as he backed away from the spilled cauldron.
"Well what did you expect? It was a cauldron on the boil! Serves you right, wretched nit!" Lucien Snape shouted, trying to inspect the damage on his young son's arm. "My potions lab is no place for a little whelp to be scampering about."
Severus looked as though he were biting back a score of protests, but the fierce expression on his father's face inhibited his abilities to speak coherently. Always fascinated by potions, Severus had crept into the laboratory, and had upset a boiling cauldron whilst attempting to peer into it.
"Get over here at once, and show me your arm!" Lucien yelled, his ice coloured eyes glittering.
Little Severus clutched his arm tightly to himself, and backed away from the fair haired man. When the man rapidly walked forward, Severus began whimpering uncontrollably and continued to back away until he came in contact with the wall behind him.
Exasperated, Lucien lunged forward, grabbed Severus by the hair, and pulled him away from the wall. After backhanding his already injured son twice, and ordering him to shut up each time the boy cried out, Lucien seized the boy's tiny arm and rolled up his sleeve. "Good job it wasn't a neurotoxin that spilt on you! You'd have more than just burns on your body, do you know what an exogenous nerve toxin could do?"
"Uh huh..." Although young Severus was in a considerable amount of pain from the potion burns, he did not want to undergo treatment at the hands of his father, and tried to pull his arm away as more tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Stop crying, baby boy!"
"I can't!" Severus sobbed. "It hurts a lot!"
"You will stop your detestable snivelling this instant!" Lucien warned, gesturing toward his belt. "Or I shall give you even more reason to carry on doing so."
The little boy made an ineffectual attempt to wipe his tears on his sleeves, and stifle his sobs. The salinity of his tears only amplified the burning sensation, which caused the six year old to cry even more.
Shrugging, Lucien hauled Severus by the collar to a nearby basin and began washing the potion off with cool water. He pulled off Severus's robes and threw them into a tub of neutralizer and proceeded to wipe off the remainder of the potion where it had soaked through the boy's clothes with a warm washcloth.
Although the burning was still intense, Severus stopped crying and noted a tremendous amount of comfort from his father's touch. "Sevvie, I am tempted to leave you as you are, as the pain might make you rethink your actions the next time you're tempted to act so foolishly. However, I'm going to apply a burn salve," the fair-haired man said as he stirred a paste in a small jar. "it will hurt at first, but you should notice the skin beginning to mend within a few minutes."
All at once, Lucien aged many years, and when Severus looked down at himself, he realized that he had also aged, and had become an adult. Strangely, the potion burns remained, and the familiar skull and snake of the Dark Mark appeared. Lucien still held onto Severus's hand, and was now applying burn paste to the potion injuries, as well as the newly made brand.
"You should have listened to your mother and refused the mark, foolish boy!" Lucien chided, only the top of his white-blond haired head visible as he looked down while carefully applying the paste.
Severus now became aware of the sound of sobbing behind him. When he turned, he saw a very tearful Harry with a darkening bruise over his jawbone. Harry appeared to be terrified, and gestured as if to brace for another painful blow... as though he were expecting to be struck again. There was also a look of unspeakable hurt on the boy's face; betrayal at being harmed by the very person he wanted nothing more than affection and guidance from.
"You did not like it at all when I hammered on you and your mum." Lucien frowned at the sight of Harry's bruise. "Why did you have to go and hammer your own son? Has Voldemort and his accursed mark poisoned your mind already, Sev?"
Severus made to go to Harry, but Harry adopted a defensive posture in terror.
"You're no better a father than I was. Very few Death Eaters can be acceptable fathers, I believe. It's the Dark Mark; it poisons us, destroys everything we were before it was burned into our arms," Lucien lamented, the remorse in his eyes unmistakably sincere. "If it were possible for me to have another go, I'd have spared you and your mother all the grief and danger I brought to your lives." Lucien raised his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark on his ghostly left arm. Lucien Snape lowered his head, drew his wand and aimed it at his own heart.
"FATHER!" Severus cried, realising too late that Lucien was about to cast the killing curse on himself. "There is no need for you to..."
But Lucien was not granted the opportunity to act; he pitched to the ground, and faded back into oblivion.
Severus backed away, remembering that Lucien had not died by his own hand, but had expired under torture, probably administered at the orders of the Dark Lord.
The potions master knelt beside his son, who promptly screamed when Severus placed hand on his shoulder. It was puzzling, for it was not a cry of fear, but of pain. Severus tenderly reached for Harry's wrist, but the boy cried out again, and curled into a protective ball on the floor. Exasperated now, Severus enfolded Harry in his arms, and was perplexed at the dampness he felt through Harry's tattered robes.
"Harry...what?" Severus cried out in terror at the feeling of something wet and leathery in his hand. His horror quintupled when he looked repeatedly from the welts on Harry's back, to his own bloodied belt in his hand.
"Please, father!" Harry cried, backing away until his flayed back came in contact with stone wall behind him. "No more, I'm sorry, please don't hit me again."
Severus trembled so fiercely that he could no longer remain upright. He shifted his weight and fell beside his son, careful not to traumatize the youth any further. "Why are you breathing that way?" Severus asked, fearing the answer.
"I can't draw a full breath." Harry's words were barely audible.
"Who did this to you?" Severus asked, raising Harry's shirt and seeing immediately that the boy's ribs had been broken. One of Harry's ribs had pierced his pale skin.
"You did. And I'm sorry for going into your labs again, I'll stay out next time. I won't ever go into your labs again. I know you wanted me to practice my duelling, and my hex-casting, but I don't think I'll be able to do that now. At the very least, I won't be a milksop any longer," said Harry, even as he began to cry even harder.
If Severus had beat Harry, he could not remember it. Was this madness truly what came of prolonged exposure to the Dark Mark? Had his own father, Lucien Snape, been in a similar mental state?
"Harry,I..!"
But Harry was not responsive. His green eyes developed a strange cast, which gave the impression of a faint light slowing being extinguished. Severus leaned close, until he could feel Harry's weakening breaths, which were like the withering flower petals against his cheek.
"No!" Severus shouted when Harry's green eyes closed. Severus frantically felt for a breath, a pulse, or any sign that Harry was still alive. "No...NO!"
"Good Heavens!" Madam Pomfrey's voice appeared from somewhere behind Harry's motionless form. "Are you in pain again Severus?"
Disoriented, Severus tried to focus on his surroundings. It had all been a dream. For that he was immensely relieved. Wanting to cover up any sign of vulnerability however, Snape quickly dashed the tears from his eyes and retorted: "No, I was merely exercising my vocal chords so they do not atrophy from disuse."
Poppy rolled her eyes at the barb, and moved over to assess her patient. Although Snape's snarky ways, and cutting remarks could try the school nurse's patience even on her best days, she nonetheless felt some measure of relief that Snape could make snide utterances at all. Mediwitch Ayame Chang joined Madam Pomfrey at Snape's side.
"Where's my ruddy arm!" Severus growled in a feeble attempt to change the subject. He has worked out what had happened in his mind, and found it rather strange that it felt as though he still had his whole left arm, even though it was completely gone from the elbow down.
"You do not remember?" Dr Chang asked, motioning to the heavily bandaged stump.
"No!" Severus yelled at the dark haired woman as she redressed one of his wounds, sending sharp pains through his side. The prospect that he could raise Harry the way his own father had violently reared him, was too real, and too fresh in his mind.
Madam Pomfrey calmly explained about how the Dark Mark had probably affected him, since it was a magical brand in nature. Since he still had high levels of Interventio Interferus potion in his system, the damage could be considerable. The fact that he had used his own magics exacerbated matters. "You'll need to exercise better judgement next time, Severus!" When they completed their work, Dr Chang dosed Severus heavily with course of muggle sedatives.
"Are you sure these measures are necessary? Sedating him and all? Wouldn't analgesics be sufficient?" Dr. Chang asked as she watched Snape's dark eyes close.
"If he isn't sedated, he'll attempt to return to his duties far before he is in any condition to perform them. " Madam Pomfrey said as she pulled the covers up to Severus's chin. "He really needs a lot of rest. Desperate, though these measures may seem, they are necessary to help him allow himself to heal."
"I think we ought to try a different course of Muggle medications though." Dr. Chang stated.
"Why?"
"One of the side-effects is mood changes." Dr. Chang replied as they left Snape's side to attend the other patients. "He was crying just now. From what my daughter tells me, Professor Snape does not seem the sort."
Inwardly, Snape brooded. Had his actions toward Harry earlier that evening brought about those memories of his father? Furthermore, was Severus so much like his father that he would end up beating Harry with little or no provocation?
Severus had struck Harry earlier in the evening. He had hit Harry hard enough to cause bruising.
No child deserves that kind of abuse. All Harry had done was try to wake him from a nightmare, and what did he do? He punched the poor boy with enough force to send him reeling off of the opposite end of the bed. He, Severus Snape, was not so different from Lucien Snape.
As much as he longed for his little angel, and as much as the little green eyed angel thought he needed Severus, Severus grimly concluded that he could not risk further harm to the boy. If they were to continue with their father/son relationship, he would surely hurt the boy far more than he would help him.
Harry had survived many years without a parent, and could no doubt survive without one once more.
Severus determined that he would hereafter only provide for Harry's physical needs, i.e. a home, food, shelter, money, and clothing. But he would not risk hurting Harry again by being a substandard father. Better that Harry be spared of an abusive father altogether, than to suffer as Severus had.
Let the boy be arrogant. Let his head swell to thrice its normal size from all the praise certain to be bestowed upon him. At least without Severus Snape, Harry Potter would have the courage to grow, to love and to seek happiness in the world. Far better he live that way than to be condemned to the same lonely and despised fate that was Severus Snape's hellish life.
"Yes, father. Harry deserves better." Severus sighed in assent, recalling Lucien Snape's face in his mind's eye.
"You've done well enough without me, Harry. Farewell."
But if this course of action were so reasonable and prudent, why did Severus feel so morose about it? He wanted the best for his only child, just as most parents do. This was all for the best, he was sure of it; but if so, why on Earth did he not feel more confident in his decision? And why was he still crying?
Harry vowed that he would ask his father to bring them to St. Mungos at least once a week, even though he . Strangely, he never felt more lonely than he did at this moment. Since Mervidith was not truly dead, her spirit was tethered to her motionless body, and she could stray no more than a metre or so from it. Harry wished that he could have his grandmother nearby. Other youth They had nearly seventeen years of dialogue to catch up on.
The parting had been especially difficult, and it required an exorbitant amount of encouragement on Mervidith's part to convince Harry to make the trip back to Hogwarts. Mervidith followed him as far as the door to her room once the staff placed her body back in there.
"I love you, my beloved green-eyed angel." Mervidith said as Harry reluctantly headed toward the door.
"I love you too, grandmother." Harry said in return. Under his breath, Harry vowed: "I'll find a way to make you well again, grandmum. I promise you. I swear I will do everything in my power to have you fully with us again. It's not fair that Voldemort took my family away from me, and deprived me of a potentially powerful matriarch! I will make him pay!"
Just as Harry made his way past the accident/emergency ward on his way back outside, some one jumped at him with such force that he was nearly knocked over.
It was Draco Malfoy.
"Uncle Severus! Oh, I'm so relieved, Godfather!" Draco shouted in a voice Harry would never have thought the brash, and spoiled boy was capable of. There was not even a hint of the condescending drawl Harry was accustomed to hearing in the pale youth's voice. To serve to further astonish him, the blond boy wrapped his arms around Harry. "Professor Snape!"
The force of Draco's embrace pushed Harry backwards, and past a large mirror along the wall. Except for his bright green eyes, he still looked exactly like Severus Snape. Apparently the Polyjuice formulation IV worked better than Harry had anticipated.
"Help me, Professor!" Draco implored.
Harry, so thoroughly gobsmacked at being held in the fierce embrace of his arch-enemy, could only gawk in stunned silence, Harry did have the forethought to tentatively put his arms around Draco,in a manner one's godfather might.
"Uncle Severus, you've got to help me!"
It was Harry's first instinct to push Draco away and to take his chances running past the security checkpoint. In other cicumstances, Harry might have hexed the white-haired boy if he even attempted to get within a metre of him. But Draco looked as though he had been beaten rather severely, and as much as Harry disliked Draco, he could not help but feel pity for him.
After all, Harry knew only too well how it felt to be injured in this manner, with express cruelty and malice.
Even though Draco had been partially healed, Harry could make out all the earmarks of a harsh pummelling, and could still distinguish circular bruising on the boy's chest and face, which could only have been from an onslaught of fists. Along the pale boy's neck, Harry could see fading scratches and bruises.
Pushing Draco away at this point would only serve to injure the boy further, as Draco could hardly stand on his own, and Harry could not find it within himself to risk further injury. Even to a one time rival and enemy. Being that Harry had already released a tremendous amount of frustration and energy on Voldemort earlier that evening, he no longer had the stamina to lash out at Draco, who was a mere nuisance no more cumbersome than a flake of dandruff .
But Draco was actually hugging him! Eww! Was this something that Draco normally did when he felt no urgency to uphold his bad-boy image in front of other people? Especially Gryffindors? Was Draco really that close to his Godfather? Or was he merely holding him because he was afraid? But what would Draco have to fear? And how did he come to be in the hospital? And who had beat him?
"P-professor Snape!" Draco stammered, looking at the door behind them with the same fear hunted prey would display as whilst watching for an encroaching predatory animal. "You have to help me."
Remembering that his eyes would surely give his identity away, Harry squinted as much as possible and hoped that Draco would interpret the action as normal 'Professor Snape' behaviour. "Wha- wha- what?" Harry said before he could better think of his intonation or if his father would indeed say something like that.
"Sir?" Draco asked in surprise, his cumulonimbus-grey eyes wide with disbelief.
Harry could have kicked himself, not even he had ever heard Snape say anything like "Wha- wha- what?" The man seemed far too sure of himself for that. "Er..uh..." Harry attempted, kicking himself inwardly once again while searching his mind for the most Snape-like response he could conjure. Inspiration came at last, and he lowered his voice, remembering to sneer the best he could. "As I am not Professor Trelawny, surely you do not expect me to understand the first thing you are talking-- alluding to, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco looked slightly shocked, no... he seemed hurt? Did Professor Snape not address Draco so formally or so coldly when they were not in class? Harry decided then to behave toward Draco, in a manner he would have liked his own godfather Sirius Black to behave toward him... albeit in the most Snapesque way possible. "Draco," Harry started with conservatively "Explain... What happened? And what is it you would have me do for you?"
"Some Death Eater lackeys roughed me up," Draco hesitantly stated.
"Why?"
"I don't know! I was hoping you could tell me!" Draco said in a cadence that indicated he did not wish to elaborate further about the beating. "Anyway, because St. Mungos is so full, they said they are going to transfer me to a muggle hospital in the morning."
Not knowing what to say, Harry remained silent and hoped that his confusion did not show up on his face.
"I don't want to go to a muggle hospital!" Draco continued. "Help me hide! Take me with you, I don't want to go to a muggle hospital."
"Why not? They're still going to-- I mean, they will provide you with the best care they are capable of." Harry replied, really not understanding why Draco would be so scared of a muggle hospital. "And I'll not endanger your life by helping you to escape the medical care you need. The muggle doctors and nurses will do their best to take care of you."
"That's just it, Uncle Sev." Harry had to fight not to grin at hearing Draco's affectionate name for him, or rather his father, "I heard that they cut you up, and sew up those cuts with fishgut stitches, and they also use needles to shoot potions in your arm."
"Sometimes they inject the medicines in your arse as well..." Harry thought aloud, recalling that intramuscular shots were a method muggle physicians often employed.
"WHAT!" Draco nearly screamed, his already ashen cheeks making an attempt at appearing cadaverous next.
"Uh..uh... oh! you thought I said sometimes they inject the medicines in your arse,' didn't you?" Harry said, cursing his own carelessness once more. "What I really meant to say was, I mean, what I really DID say was 'sometimes their medicine is a farce.'"
"Oh, that's so true!" Draco nodded, sounding more apprehensive than ever as he was sure that his godfather had not said the latter. "Now you see why I don't want to go there!"
"Draco," Harry began, trying to sound Snape-like and encouraging at the same time. Not an easy task. "I am familiar with muggle hospitals, and while the way they do things isn't always... I mean they can be questionable in their methods by wizarding standards, but they do take good care of you there. And they use their technologies to make you as comfortable as possible. You will heal just the same there as ..."
"I don't want those filthy mudbloods ... touching me!" Draco said, the expression on his face reminiscent of some one sucking on a half- rotted lemon with the skin still on.
"Now, Draco, mind your tongue! I'll not have your foul...I mean, I'll not hear...No profanity in my presence!" Harry said, knowing that he had to return to Hogwarts soon. "There is nothing more that can be done. With our resources so limited in the magical world, we will need help from the muggles from time to time."
"But..."
"This is one of those times. The muggles may not have magical powers, but they are human like we are, and will not deliberately try to hurt you." Harry said comfortingly, while keeping the silky, Snape-like tone firmly in place in his voice. "You will not need to remain with the muggles any longer than necessary, but you are still in need of medical attention and you will receive it."
Draco appeared to find the mosaic patterns on the floor fascinating, which was a great relief to Harry as he knew the polyjuice potion was wearing off more, and he wasn't sure if he still looked significantly like Professor Snape. "Draco... be brave. I know you've been through difficult things before..." Harry was surprised at how easy it was for him to speak words of comfort to his one time enemy. Even more odd, he found that he felt genuine concern for Draco, but he could not understand exactly why. "...but I know you're tough- - resilient. And you'll get through this. I fully believe you will."
Draco looked up as Harry put his hands soothingly on his shoulders. Harry squinted quickly, to avoid Draco seeing his eye colour. With any luck, Draco would perceive that to be nothing more than a typical Snape scowl. "Thanks, Uncle Sevs. I- I'll go."
"That's my boy, Draco. What I mean to say is, very good. I am most impressed by your attitude. " Harry said, nearly choking on his own words. "I'll send you some crunchy macadamia and chocolate candy once you arrive at the muggle hospital."
"Is that some kind of magical candy?" Draco asked, not familiar with the confection.
"The candy has magical properties." Harry replied, knowing that even muggle chocolate, given as a gift, could lift the mood, however slightly, of even the most glum individuals. "It will make your stay at the muggle hospital more bearable."
Before Harry could back away, Draco wrapped his arms around his waist once more. For the slightest fraction of a moment, Harry wanted to pull away, but then he remembered that he was not supposed to be Harry at all, but Severus Snape, this boy's godfather. Still feeling immensely uncomfortable, Harry tentatively returned the embrace, feeling some relief that the real Severus was probably just as adept at giving Draco hugs as he was... which was not very adept at all.
"Ahh!" Draco exclaimed, pulling back from Harry abruptly.
Sure that Draco had figured matters out, Harry slumped his shoulders. "Well..."
"Godfather!" Draco promulgated, motioning to a large red smudge on his own hospital gowns. "Uncle Sevs, you're bleeding!"
The level of endogenous morphines in Harry's blood were so high that he had hardly felt pain from the injuries Voldemort and Wormtail had inflicted on him. He wasn't aware of it so acutely until this moment. Recovering from the shock enough to speak, he lied: "Well... that is precisely why I was in the hospital in the first place... I uh...needed treatment. And so do you...let's go back to the critical care ward..."
"There you are!" a very worried mediwizard shouted as he burst into the room with two security wizards in tow. "We've been searching everywhere for you, Draco!"
Draco put on the worst sneer he could muster. "Oh, if it isn't the mediwizard simpleton..."
"Now Draco, be nice...you will regard the mediwizard with the proper respect!" Harry chided, surprised at how easily he could slip into Snape's persona.
Draco scowled at Harry and the mediwizard before letting the security officers levitate him back in the direction of the critical care unit.
"Ahh! Professor Snape." the mediwizard said pleasantly. "Thank you for keeping Draco here, we were so worried he would have tried to escape from St. Mungos."
Remembering Professor Snape's dislike of being praised for anything he did, Harry did his best to brush it off like dust. "I did nothing more than any teacher would do for his student."
"You're not so changed, Professor Snape. Still can not accept anyone's gratitude or praises." The mediwizard said, smiling as he turned to leave. "That is exactly what you have said so many times back when I was your student in the Slytherin house..." The young mediwizard motioned to his uniform. "But know this, I would not have lived to achieve all that I have today without your guidance. Whether you choose to see it or not, many people owe their prosperity, and sometimes their very lives to you. For that, I am grateful to you as well."
Harry stared at the door long after it closed behind the young mediwizard, his pride for his father growing inexorably within him. Severus Snape had done so much good, for so many people. And yet he devalued his own actions repeatedly.
All at once, Harry regretted not even looking at the laniard on the mediwizard's uniform. How Harry wanted to tell his father about what the young mediwizard had said. Tell him how his actions, however coarse had acerbic, had influenced people for the better. But Harry could not even name the mediwizard.
With a sigh Harry turned to leave St. Mungos, observing the unexpected irony of the whole situation. The Malfoys and Snapes seemed so different from one another, yet the two families were so interconnected. Lucien (Malfoy) Snape, who was the disowned older brother of Lucius Malfoy, had raised Severus Snape. Now Severus Snape was the godfather of Draco Malfoy, and judging from Draco's reaction to him, they were quite close. And if and when it was known to the Malfoys that Severus Snape was Harry's father... would that make them god brothers!
Harry was still reeling from his own musings as he reached the exit.
"Give my regards to your mother, Professor Snape. I hope she recovers someday." One of the witches at the security desk said she bid Harry farewell.
"My GRAND MOTHER will recover. I swear it." Harry whispered as he walked out into the night and concentrated on apparating back to Hogwarts.
The Dark Lord's newly hired Interim potions master, Justin Kase, moved drone-like through the dimly lit labs in Resolute Manor. His proficiency level at potions was not even a fraction near Severus Snape's. Indeed none of the other candidates the Death Eaters had kidnapped for the position of interim potions master were.
Voldemort had beaten, and tortured three potions masters, and killed two outright when they could not concoct some of the more complex potions Severus Snape had developed, and could brew with relative ease. Even more annoying, none of the candidates had the speed or the dexterity that Severus had.
It would be a long wait for Severus's return to his position among the Death Eaters.
Justin Kase had been chosen by pure default, as more interim potions candidates were difficult to come by, thanks to the heightened security measures taken throughout the wizarding world in the days following the large scale Death Eater attack. To be sure, Kase was not the best candidate for the job, and Voldemort actually regretted killing the two that he did, for surely more of them in the labs would have hurried matters along at the very least. Perhaps three potions masters could have accomplished what Lucien Snape, then later Severus Snape alone would normally do. Indeed, perhaps all of the candidates working together could have achieved the volume of potions work that was required at this time of war.
The Dark Lord was far from infallible.
"Are you done with the healing potionsss yet?" Voldemort hissed at the mousy brown- haired wizard.
The man was so startled that he nearly burned his hand over the spelled flames. "Yes sir..."
Voldemort watched in disgust as the man walked over with the drafts. He had been hit by so many modified imperious curses to assure his obedience that his face bore a revoltingly vacant expression even while concentrating hard on his work.
The Dark Lord gratefully gulped down the vials of potions, feeling the acrid liquids crawl down his throat as though it were a sensate entity stalking its quarry of damaged tissues and broken bones. The relief was fast in coming, though almost not soon enough for him. It had been a long time since Voldemort was ever in that much pain, and every moment he had been waiting for the healing potions felt the equivalent of several historical epochs of muggle time.
Only after the Dark Lord was sated did Wormtail dare to take his own doses of healing draughts.
"Kassssssse," the Dark Lord said when the pain finally began to diminish. "Test the blood on my clothes. Most of it will be mine, but the blood of Severus Snape's imposter is also here, and I want to know his true identity."
"I-it was not S-snivell- uh Severus S-snape, my Lord?" Peter Pettigrew stammered.
"No, the impossster merely had the black sssnake's arm and usssed the Dark Mark upon it to apparate to usss." Voldemort replied irritably, before turning back to Kase. "Find out who the impossster is and kill him ... or better still ... casssstrate him! "
Both Wormtail and Kase shuddered, and unconsciously crossed their legs
"No, that will not do." Voldemort went on. "Preferably, carry out both orders, but reverssse the order in which they are done."
End Part Fifteen
