Chapter 46:

Old Enmities

'Why, for Merlin's sake, did Dumbledore manipulate me into this situation,' thought Sirius Black angrily, whilst running in his dog shape through the forest, once in a while jumping over some protruding root.

The Animagus forced himself to run at high speed. He always felt this to be one of the best ways to work off his frustration. He knew he couldn't stay away from the hut very long, but without the physical exercise he would have exploded and wouldn't have been able to guarantee Snape's well being any longer.

What did the old man think he was doing? This would never work. He really had tried to help Snape, however unwillingly, even though the mere sight of the man made his blood boil. And then, the bastard dared look at him in such an arrogant and condescending way, as if he was nothing but a worthless slave. How typical of Snape. Typical of Slytherins. They felt superior to each and every wizard. They owned the world. To show a little bit of gratitude wouldn't have been too much to ask for, now would it?

Apart from this first time, the Potions master had woken twice for a few moments but had hardly been responsive. Sirius had contacted Albus and Madame Pomfrey after the first time, and the Mediwitch had explained that Snape's body tried to compensate for the hardship by sleeping a lot. This would change as soon as his body fluids were balanced again and he had taken in some nutrients with the infusion. He would be more lucid, then, and stay awake for longer periods of time.

That's when the real fun would begin for Sirius. His first 'conversation' with the Slytherin had surely been nothing more then a meagre foretaste.

Snape had always been like this. Arrogant, obsessed with power and with a strong tendency for evil. Exactly like those people Sirius had always rebelled against; those who had made his early childhood hell.

In his opinion, Snape had found his true vocation as a Death Eater. Already in school, Sirius and the other Marauders had always suspected that Snape didn't take the distinction between good and evil too seriously. The Dark Lord would have done them all a favour if he had just killed the arrogant bastard.

The moment this thought formed in his mind he felt guilty about it and slowed down into an unhurried pace. Nobody deserved death, and usually such thoughts didn't cross his mind. Only Malfoy, Snape, and the Dark Lord himself made him think like this. In his opinion, Snape was as dangerous as his master and he didn't understand at all why Dumbledore trusted him so blindly. Why wouldn't anybody see that he posed a deadly threat? That Snape would turn on them as soon as the other side offered better profits or was victorious in the war. Slytherins were born opportunists and Snape would join the winning side as soon as things began to look bad for the Order.

Damn it.

With a strangled cry, Snape shot up into a half-sitting position, only to sink back into his pillows totally worn out from the movement. His vision started flickering when a sharp pain shot through his body. His heart beat frantically as sheer terror pressed down on his ribcage, making his body tremble violently.

Once again, he couldn't tell where he was. However, he couldn't bring himself to give that too much importance at the moment. Breathing in deep gasping breaths, eyes closed, he tried to suppress the panic. Had it been a dream that had brought about this condition? He couldn't remember. What was dreams and what was reality after all? He had dreamt of Black, too. That he wasn't in the cell anymore but in some bed, only to find Sirius Black by his side. What a mockery….

Slowly, his heart calmed down, though an echo of the panic still lingered on, weakened only by the leaden resignation that seemed to crush him ever since the last of the children died.

Then Severus realized something strange. He didn't lie on hard stone anymore but on soft pillows.

He opened his eyes to stare at the walls of a small, wood-panelled room. His gaze wandered to his hands that were bandaged, and he saw a thin tube that disappeared under another bandage on his elbow. The pain in his body was still there, but somebody seemed to have treated his wounds.

Suddenly, he understood. It hadn't been a dream. Black was here, and he was finally away from Malfoy and the Dark Lord.

Somehow, he had been rescued.

When the realization sank in, a feeling of utter despair settled on him once again.

Why?

Why had they rescued him now? Why hadn't they come earlier? Before he had lost the last remnants of pride and self-respect.

He had failed, as so often before. He hadn't been able to save his integrity. He had humiliated himself in front of Malfoy and Voldemort. Again, he was the loser, the idiot, the clown they all made fun of. He blinked against the sting of hot tears that threatened to fill his eyes. Why hadn't they let him die?

Why was it that they had to find him laid bare in his shame, weak and exposed?

Because Malfoy was right, he knew this instinctively. He was worthless and weak, and all his efforts to appear superior and strong, to make people respect him, had been in vain. A pathetic imitation of a teacher and of a human being. He was, at the most, good enough to writhe before somebody's feet and let himself be trampled upon. Nothing but a means to an end. A whimpering coward.

And Black, of course, was one of the first to feast on his weakness.

Black would thoroughly enjoy this, as would all the others who saw him in his current state. Weak and exposed.

Severus pushed these thoughts back as far as possible. His mind was confused, his emotions incomprehensible, even to himself. There were shame, disappointment, anger, and for the first time in his life he felt the helpless force of despair and self-pity.

Self-pity. He, Severus Snape?

The flaring voice of pride that would never have allowed for a feeling like this before had become strangely feeble and quiet. He felt self-pity because of the injustice of his life, and anger and shame because of his failure to stay at least true to himself.

Everything had changed. His life had been ripped from him, and though his heart was still beating, his lungs still pumping oxygen into his veins, he had died. No, worse than that. They had broken him. He was worth less than nothing.

"Back among the living, are we? Ready to scare children again?" he heard a mocking voice say.

Sirius Black was standing in the doorway, sneering at him contemptuously.

In his current state of mind, Severus' could only rudimentarily grasp that Sirius referred to his usual behaviour as a teacher. His crippled soul, however, got stuck with the memory of the four little children he hadn't been able to save.

Immediately, a mental trapdoor shut down, and he suppressed a shiver.

"Get lost, Black."

Severus ignored the scratching pain in his throat and the numb, dry feeling in his mouth. He barely noticed how hoarse his voice was. All he could do was concentrate on breathing and try to calm down his racing heart to suppress the panic that began to take root again.

"Back to your good old charming self again. What a surprise."

"I don't want to see you."

Sirius gave a short, joyless laugh. "Then we have something in common for once, Snape. I'm not exactly keen on being here, either. I wouldn't have minded leaving you with the likes of them back there! Unfortunately, Dumbledore forced me to take care of you."

Sirius's voice was loaded with enmity and loathing, but Severus didn't pay attention to it. He was concentrating on processing the information; Sirius had provided. Dumbledore? He had searched for him after all? A hint of hope took hold of him. Had Malfoy lied?

"Dumbledore found me?" He was too amazed to give his voice the usual chill, and hardly noticed Black furrowing his brow in surprise.

"We received a letter off You-Know-Who telling us where to find you."

A letter? Of course. How idiotic to assume that Dumbledore had searched for him. After receiving the letter, his honour would press him to arrange for his retrieval. Exactly as he would do for any stranger. Severus was a complete fool to think that Dumbledore ever considered him a friend.

Yet, why would this be so important to him now? Hadn't he always contented himself with being alone?

"I said get lost, Black, you flee-infested bastard. I don't want to see you!"

Well, at least the bite in his voice was back. He didn't need the others more now than he had before. If he didn't trust anybody, then he couldn't get hurt anymore. Nevertheless, and in spite of his efforts to talk himself into believing this, the veil of despair drew ever closer around him. He was so tired. Of course, he knew that this was a reaction to the torture and injuries. However, it occurred to him that it was his entire life that weighed him down: a life that seemed strenuous and devoid of meaning. He didn't want all this anymore.

Severus closed his eyes in the attempt to shut out everything around him.

"I'd love to leave you to your own devices, Snape, but I fear I have to give you the next dose of medicine first."

This time, Black's voice was loaded with malicious joy, and Severus opened his eyes again to shoot a venomous glare at the Animagus. Why didn't the idiot leave him alone? His whole body ached, his mouth was unpleasantly dry, and he was tired. Black's sneering remarks were just too much.

"I don't need your help, Black."

Black grinned his crooked, condescending grin, the very same one Severus had already loathed so much when they were still in school. "Feel free to try take the potion on your own then. Though I don't believe you'll be able to hold something with those hands yet."

Instinctively, Severus gazed at his bandaged hands. He remembered what Malfoy had done to them. Crippled and pierced they were, and the constant burning pain in his palms would keep him from forgetting about it, too. Why wasn't Poppy here to heal his wounds? Why didn't she say a few healing spells and give him some potions that really helped, so he wouldn't have to lie here thus vulnerable and filled with agony?

"Where is Poppy?"

"In Hogwarts. Unfortunately, she cannot leave easily, nor can the headmaster, because the school swarms with Aurors. That's the reason why I've been condemned to stay here and see that you don't kick it. Pomfrey was here some hours ago, and before you start asking, no, she couldn't magically heal your wounds."

Severus' interest was aroused, and he even forgot to make his face look forbidding for a brief moment. "What? Why is this?"

"Your master left you with a little farewell gift before writing the letter to Dumbledore."

"He's not my master," Severus growled, but the very moment he said so he was overcome by memories again.

'Who is your master, Severus?'

'You are my master.'

"However," Black's voice snapped him out of it again, "Voldemort has magically overloaded you. Therefore, any kind of magic would harm you. Which means no spells, and only very limited use of potions."

Severus closed his eyes. He vaguely remembered some curse he hadn't recognized, and the terrible feeling of being ripped apart alive. No magic anymore. Merlin, why had they saved him at all? This was worse than death. He had always been disliked, but now he was absolutely useless, too. 'Voldemort has proven effectively who the master is,' a sarcastic voice, which had become very quiet lately, murmured inside his head.

"The potion you have to take is not entirely without risk, either. Madame Pomfrey said I should wait with the next dosage until you are responding and somewhat better off again. Seems as if this was the case now judging from your back-to-normal arrogant behaviour."

Opening his eyes again, Severus saw Black placing a hand-mirror - most likely a magical one - and some strange-looking Muggle instruments close at hand.

Black seemed to have noticed his gazing sceptically at the instruments, and snorted contemptuously.

"Of course, it would be too much to expect that you of all people are familiar with Muggle devices, wouldn't it? These are for monitoring your circulatory system, and with the mirror I can call Madame Pomfrey if necessary. It might well happen that your body reacts badly to the potion, and though I couldn't care less, some others evidently don't want you to die after all the effort they have spent on saving you."

Ignoring Black's verbal attack, Severus fixed his gaze on the small vial filled with brownish liquid in the Animagus' hand as if it was his Holy Grail. If his body reacted to the magic and his circulatory system broke down, he would finally be delivered from this nightmare, the shame and this whole bloody life.

t.b.c.

Translated by Persephone Lupin and Betaed by Slytherin silver's snake and Sadistra.