A Breath Away

OK, you've twisted my arm , figuratively speaking. Here's the next chapter. Hope you like it!

A stretcher was summoned and Snape was quickly rushed into the infirmary. Dumbledore returned, he'd been a few miles from the school, when Scout had abruptly halted and raced back the way he had come. The Headmaster and the magehound arrived just in time to see the professor being levitated onto the stretcher by Hagrid, who was gulping back tears.

"Hagrid, is he . . .?"

"He was jus' lyin' here, sir. With this filthy thing about his neck." He showed Dumbledore the sign.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and suddenly the sign cracked in two. "Get rid of that, Hagrid." He waved his wand and the stretcher with the half-dead wizard began to move. Scout paced by it, whimpering softly, thrusting his nose into his master's limp hand.

Albus was never certain whether it was that which roused Severus Snape from unconsciousness. But all of a sudden the Potions Master's eyes were open and looking directly into Dumbledore's own.

"Severus, don't try to talk. We're going to help you." Dumbledore said quickly, realizing a moment later how stupid his injunction was, for Severus's face was bruised and battered so badly Dumbledore doubted if he could speak.

Severus's eyes met his own. Albus, he knows nothing. He couldn't penetrate my shields, they held. I promise you that. He didn't break me, I hid and he couldn't follow. That was why he did . . .this to me.
Dumbledore patted his hand gently. "You did very well, my friend. You're going to be all right." He never looked away from the dark eyes.

Liar. I'm dying, we both know it. Tell Arista that I love her and I wish . . .you know what to say, Albus.

"So do you, Severus. And you can tell her yourself," Dumbledore whispered hoarsely.

They had reached the Hospital Wing and Albus broke the contact. Severus's eyelids fluttered shut, he was unable to keep them open any longer, the pain was too great, and he lapsed back into unconsciousness, his spirit hanging by a thread.

"Poppy," Dumbledore ordered and Madam Pomfrey rushed over. She maintained a professional demeanor as she gazed down at the critically injured man, though she was appalled at the amount of damage he had suffered. She did not even know how he was still alive.

"Bloody stubborn man!" she whispered, running a diagnostic on him. "Anyone else would have been gone by now." She shook her head at Dumbledore's questioning gaze. "This . . .Albus, it's too great, over half of his systems are compromised. His spleen, his lungs, his heart . . .I will try, but frankly I don't think he will live . . .He's but a breath away from death."

"He'll live," came a new voice from behind them. "I'll save him."

They whirled around to find Arista behind them, a small wraith in her bare feet and nightclothes, a determined look in her eye that made both teachers flinch and step back. She had an air about her, as of a warrior going into battle.

"Arista, dear, you know the rules," began Madam Pomfrey, wanting to spare her the sight of her father's broken body.

"Yes, I do. You may save those a breath away from death, but once they are gone you must let them go. So he told me long ago. A breath away. And he's still breathing. Now move away, please."

They did, reluctantly, she could tell by their expressions that they thought it was too late. She set her jaw. A breath away was still a breath. She had healed worse. She would not, could not fail.

She released all the shields on her healing power, summoning it up all at once, something she had not done since she was eleven and resurrected the cat from the dead. White fire coursed through her in a dizzying rush, but unlike that other time, she knew how to control it. She guided it, it did not guide her. She nudged a thread of it downward, drawing more power from the earth, should she need it.

To those watching, it appeared as if she suddenly burst into flame, white fire etched her body, burning brightly, flickering to blue around the edges. Poppy put a hand to her mouth in awe. They watched the glowing figure of the Master Healer approach the still form shrouded in black and lay her hands upon him.

Arista knew from the moment she touched him that Poppy had been correct. The damage inflicted upon her father was too great for an ordinary Healer to fix. It was a miracle he was still alive. But that stubborn indomitable will refused to give up, and she was not about to let him go without a fight. Nothing is impossible with magic. I'm no ordinary Healer. I healed the Longbottoms and Fireflash, I can heal him too.

A breath away.

She analytically catalogued all of his myriad injuries. Then she set the white fire free and began to heal them.

First, the heart, coaxing it back into a normal rhythm, sending the blood flowing through the veins, fixing the damaged capillaries. Next the lungs, repairing and sealing, nudging a rib back into place, draining the excess fluid away. Then his skull, easing the pressure on the brain and mending the crack in it.

One breath became two.

Good job. Breathe, Dad, in and out. Just like for meditation.

She would have wept, but the white fire burned her tears away, and she had no time to indulge in them anyway. She sent the fire deeper, seeking another damaged organ.

Under her deft touch, his kidneys were restored, his spleen woven back together, mending organs was hard, very much so, but not impossible. It could be done, if one had the focus, the power, and the concentration. Arista did.

Severus was worse off than the cat had been, for so much of his injuries had been deliberately inflicted, with magic and without it. But that did not matter. She would prevail.

A breath away and more. I won't let them win. Not now or ever. I'm a Snape and we never ever give up. Never! Live! I give you back your life, as once you gave me mine.
She coaxed him back from the edge, the white fire seeking out what had been broken and torn and restoring it under her directive. She worked partially from instinct and partially from all the knowledge of human anatomy she had gained from endless hours of study. It was intense, exhausting work, and she could feel her strength waning, but her will never faltered.

She drew a trickle of power from the earth, it came in a sweet rush and she reattached nerves and restored movement in his left leg, though not perfectly. But it was enough, he would walk on it, a bit stiffly, but he would use it.

Abrasions and bruises were the last things she healed, for they were simple and required barely a flicker of her gift. Lacerations made by whips and clubs vanished as if they never were.

Last, she touched his mind, calling to him with the full force of her empathic gift, sending her spirit self flying along the glittering road of stars, seeking the spark that was Severus Snape.

Dad, come back to me. Come back! You're healed, and we need you—I need you! Come back! Over and over she called, her voice that of a lost child, in need of comfort and protection.

Arista? Where are you?

Faint, so very faint, but there.

Here! I'm here! She summoned him with all of the love and desperation at her command, and suddenly he was there, his spirit self dancing and flickering like a shadow upon a wall.

Her spirit self reached out to him and he clasped her tight. Don't leave! You're okay now, I've healed you. Stay with me.

He seemed torn. But the light . . .Amelia was there, waiting . . .only she wouldn't let me hold her. Go back, she said . . .it's not time yet, Sev . . .

Listen to her, Dad. You still have work to do. Remember your Vow? Voldemort is still alive. We need you to help us fight. Nobody can fight him like you can.

Yes, I did promise that. He heaved a sigh of regret.

Come on, Dad. She'll be waiting, and one day you'll meet again. Just not now. Her spirit self tugged on his hand, drawing him back down the sparkling path towards his body.

He grimaced in distaste. Must I go back?

Yes! You promised. Do it for me, if for no one else.

Very well. Show me the way back, Arista mine.

So she did, walking his spirit self back home again.

She was half-aware of voices around her, but she paid them little heed, for she was more concerned with the fact that her father was now breathing deeply, evenly, sleeping normally.

"Albus, it's been over four hours," Madam Pomfrey was saying in alarm. "No one can stay tranced for so long, I don't care how powerful her gift is."

"Then you don't think she's succeeding, Poppy?"

"I really don't see how she could, he was nearly dead when he came here, and what they did to him . . .Albus, I've never seen anyone hurt so badly in my life still breathing. I'm going to call her back, she'll destroy herself trying to save him, and Severus's ghost will haunt us forever if that happens."

She made as if to touch the glowing form of the little Healer.

"No! Don't touch her!" Drake cried, grabbing Pomfrey's hand abruptly.

The medi-witch shot him an annoyed look. "Mr. Lockwood, what do you think you're doing?"

"Stopping you from making a huge mistake, ma'am," he answered. "Arista's winning, I can feel it, and if you interrupt her now, all of this will have been for nothing. Just wait a few more minutes."

"And just how do you know that?" Pomfrey asked irritably.

"I know because she and I share a soulbond," he answered simply.

Madam Pomfrey gaped at him. Then she nodded and stepped away. "Five minutes, Mr. Lockwood."

Just then Dumbledore glanced over at Severus's still form and saw, to his utter amazement, the Potions Master's chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Color was now back in his face and he was sleeping peacefully, all the agony and pain erased from his lean features. "Look, Poppy! He's breathing! Look at his face! I think . . .he's asleep. She's done it, Poppy!" the Headmaster cried, relief and amazement in his tone. "Severus is alive." He was weeping openly, and so were Drake and Madam Pomfrey.

The white fire vanished, and Arista withdrew her hands from Severus's chest. She looked up at the three wizards and smiled in triumph. "Nothing is impossible with magic."

Then she crumpled to the ground, all her strength gone.

Drake caught her easily, hugging her to him. "You are amazing, Arista Snape." He kissed her gently. "She needs to rest."

"You'd best put her in the bed next to her father then," Madam Pomfrey said calmly, her composure regained somewhat. "When he wakes up, he'll be asking for her, so best he see her for himself right off."

Drake obeyed, settling Arista in the bed next to Snape and covering her with a blanket.

Poppy glanced at him. "Don't you have class or something, Mr. Lockwood?"

"No, today's Sunday."

"Oh. Yes, I forgot." She stammered. "Well then, if you're going to remain here, I'd like your assistance with the professor, if you don't mind. He's all over blood and needs to be cleaned up and gotten into fresh clothes. You aren't squeamish about blood, are you?"

"No, ma'am, I've helped my father plenty of times with patients. He's a Magical Creatures vet." Drake told her.

"That's right, you're Robin Lockwood's son. Good, then you won't be fainting on me. Here, start washing the blood off his face, gently mind! He might be healed, but that new skin is still tender." She handed Drake a damp cloth scented with wintergreen infused water.

Drake took it and began gently sponging clotted blood off the sleeping Severus.

Half an hour later, their patient was freshly scrubbed and resting comfortably in a set of hospital pajamas not unlike those Harry had worn. Scout, who had remained in the infirmary despite Madam Pomfrey's attempts to shoo him out, was lying between the two beds, alert and watchful. The magehound had licked Severus's face once they'd transferred him to the bed next to Arista's, much to Drake's amusement.

He bent to ruffle the dog's satin ears. "He's gonna be okay, boy. They both are, thank God."

Scout thumped his tail in agreement, but he remained where he was, guarding the two people he loved from harm.

Comfrey appeared in the room and jumped up on the bed, curling up on Snape's feet, purring loudly.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "This is not normal procedure, to allow animals in my sick ward, but I suppose I'll have to make an exception in their case."

"I'd say so, because nothing's going to keep them out of here," Drake agreed.

"Or you either," she added with a smile.

"No," he settled himself in a chair next to Arista's bed.

"Stay then, Mr. Lockwood. At least you're quiet," she said, then bustled off to mix up some more pain medicine.

Drake slanted a half-smile at the sleeping Healer, then leaned back in the chair and dozed lightly. It had been a long morning, and he had no doubt once the school learned about what had happened, the Hospital Wing would be swarming with people. After all, it wasn't everyday a person was brought back from the brink of death after being tortured by the Dark Lord.

Well? Did you really think I'd let him die???