Chapter 47:
Potions and CruciosSirius took his time in fetching a glass of water and a spoon from the cottage's little kitchen. He wasn't in a hurry to make Snape swallow the potion, seeing as he didn't expect the man to comply without protesting. Even if Snape realised that the medicine would help him and that, most probably, he himself had brewed it for Pomfrey, the mere fact that it was Sirius who was administering it would be reason enough for him to cause an ugly scene. Mind you, the man usually didn't need a reason to throw a fit.
As soon as he had recovered enough energy, Snape was already spouting poison again. How typical.
Sirius cast a reassuring glance at the kitchen clock then mounted the stairs leading to the first floor. Pomfrey had told him to wait with the potion until dinner was finished at school so she would be able to sneak away more easily in case she was needed. When he entered the room, Snape's eyes were closed, and for a moment he thought the man had fallen asleep again.
"Snape?"
No reaction.
Sirius sighed morosely and put the glass and spoon on the nightstand beside the stethoscope and the vial with the potion.
He grabbed Snape's shoulders to shake him awake, but as soon as his hand had touched him, the black eyes flew open. His gaze full of panic, Snape searched the room until he finally noticed Sirius and seemed to remember where he was. Instantly, the panic disappeared behind a forbidding mask.
Sirius remembered well how easily scared he had been the first days after his escape from Azkaban until he had finally got used to his newfound freedom. However, Snape had been away for no longer than barely two weeks. In all likelihood, it was his weak condition that was responsible for most of his panicked reactions.
"Your medicine, Snape."
The Slytherin stared at him defiantly, curling his lips into a near-snarl.
Bloody bastard. A simple 'thank you' couldn't be that difficult, could it?
"I would stop that if I were you. You'll only add to your pain by ripping open the skin on your lips again."
The expression of defiance on Snape's face deepened. "I didn't ask for your help, Black."
Ignoring the Potions master's words, Sirius bent forward and removed the pillows from under his back while holding the man by his shoulders. Then he let him glide onto the mattress again, only to raise him into a half-sitting position afterwards, placing pillows behind Snape's back to support him in this position. During the procedure he didn't utter a word, and he wasn't especially gentle with the man either, though he tried to not hurt him unnecessarily. Still, a pained gasp escaped Snape's lips as he was lifted. Sirius ignored this as well. Snape would survive it, no doubt. He couldn't expect to be handled with kid gloves as long as he was not at all trying to be a little nicer himself. Then Sirius recalled Albus and what the old wizard expected of him. Sirius owed him to do his best, not withstanding how hard it was on him. After all, Dumbledore could have expelled him when his - admittedly not very well thought through - prank had gone so wrong. But who would have expected Snape to actually follow his instructions?
No, he refused to think about this. Shit happens, and nobody had been hurt after all.
Sirius turned away from the panting Potions master and reached for the spoon. He filled it with a little water and lifted it to Snape's mouth when Snape was looking at him again. "Your stomach won't keep down that much yet, but with your mouth parched like this you'll have difficulties swallowing the medicine, and I really don't want to repeat the whole procedure. You'd better drink a few drops first. You must be thirsty."
This time, he had even tried to sound somewhat friendlier, but instead of an answer Snape refused to look at him. For some unfathomable reason, he turned his head towards the wall and firmly closed his eyes as if trying to shut the words out. Before he averted his gaze, however, Sirius had glimpsed a new flicker of panic in the man's eyes.
Well, now Snape surely overdid things quite a bit. Merlin, he had been away for only two weeks. Not even his injuries could justify his cowardly behaviour.
Snivellus.
Even though outwardly a bully, the nickname fitted perfectly. Cowardly, opportunistic Slytherin. Always big with words and when in a group, but as soon as things really got tough, he turned tail and wriggled around the problems somehow. Only it hadn't worked this time.
Gradually, Sirius's frustration turned into rage. Snape had no right to act up like this. Sirius could tell the man a thing or two about suffering. His own imprisonment had lasted for twelve long years, and the greasy git made such a fuss about two weeks.
"Open your bloody mouth and drink! Now!" he growled angrily.
Sirius was prepared for another verbal fight, but winced and almost spilled the water when Snape's eyes shot open at the order, wide with shock. He opened his mouth obediently while an obvious shiver ran through his body.
Sirius blinked in amazement. He hadn't expected this almost automatic response. Especially not of the Potions master. However, he quickly recovered his wits, brought the spoon to Snape's lips and let the water drip into his mouth. The Slytherin swallowed obediently, then closed his eyes. Sirius couldn't tell whether from a feeling of pleasure which the water was bound to cause in the parched throat, or from something else. He eyed the man distrustfully. Eventually, Snape opened his eyes again, taking a deep breath before meeting Black's gaze, and flashed a glare of pure loathing at him. Any trace of weakness vanished.
"Don't you treat me like a child, you flee-ridden bastard," he hissed through clenched teeth.
Sirius tried hard not to respond with spite. He really was an idiot if he ever believed Snape capable of showing something like normal human emotions. Whatever had caused his previous reaction was definitely over. Though ... Snape's insult seemed strangely defensive, if still venomous non the less.
No wonder. Most likely, he was ashamed of his cowardly behaviour. For letting his true face show through: the face of a snivelling wimp.
If there only wasn't ... Snape's eyes had reflected an enormous amount of emotions Sirius couldn't place. What had caused this strong reaction? It was hard to believe that his weakness and the injuries alone were responsible for the man's sudden loss of control.
"Let's wait a few minutes in order to see whether your stomach will keep down the water before we try with the medicine."
Snape only glared at him contemptuously. Ignoring the Slytherin, Sirius turned to the glass again. He opened the vial and refilled the spoon with water. Then he measured two drops of the potion into the spoon. Strange that Snape hadn't even asked what kind of potion it was... Considering his usual paranoia, Sirius would have expected him to do so. But then, Sirius thought, as a Potions master he might know the potion by its colour anyway.
He held out the spoon in front of Snape's face once again. However, the wizard seemed to have fully recovered from his previous episode of weakness and demonstratively kept his mouth shut to further provoke the Animagus.
Sirius rolled his eyes in frustration. Would Dumbledore really take it that badly if he hexed Snape for a few seconds?
"Come on, just say that you won't let me feed you the stuff. It'll be so much more fun to force it down your throat," he threatened instead.
Snape stared at him darkly and curled his lips in contempt. However, when Sirius brought the spoon closer to his mouth, eyebrows raised expectantly, he opened up without resistance and allowed Sirius to administer the draught.
"Good boy," Sirius mocked. "If you continue to behave yourself, I'll give you a cookie next time."
Snape shot him a devastating glare, but didn't say a word. He turned away from Sirius instead and stared at the opposite wall.
"Pomfrey promised to come later on, in case your body reacts badly to the potion. Last time, you had trouble with your circulation. That's why I'm under a strict order to stay with you until she can make it here."
"Don't feel obliged, Black. I'm fine, and as soon as you are gone I'll feel even better." Snape's voice was icy as he continued his staring contest with the wall.
Sirius gave a short and annoyed laugh. "Oh yes, of course you are. If you really were fine I would hardly be forced to stay here with you. I guess this is the absolute low of my career. I almost wished I were back in Azkaban. There, at least, I wouldn't have to bear the presence of a greasy git like you."
Sirius waited for the inevitable sarcastic remark but the man didn't react. He was still staring at the wall.
"You don't even consider it worthwhile to answer me, do you?" Sirius asked angrily.
Snape's only response was to slowly close his eyes and clench his jaws. His respiration sped up, and Sirius observed that the man's arms, which were lying on the cover, began to tremble.
"Snape?" asked the Animagus nervously. Something was decidedly wrong here.
He quickly grabbed the Slytherin by his shoulders, snapped away the supportive pillows from behind his back and let him glide onto the mattress. Nevertheless, the trembling was increasing steadily, and a pained groan escaped from between Snape's tightly clenched lips.
"Hey, what are you up to, Snape? Try to take the piss out of me? This is not fun, you know." Sirius tried to talk himself into believing that his childhood enemy only wanted to pay back his malicious remark by scaring him, but, at the same time, he knew instinctively that this wasn't the case at all. It wasn't a simple circulatory breakdown either. This was far more serious.
Hastily, he reached for the Potions master's neck with his hand. Snape's pulse was racing, and sweat began to pour down his brow while the tremors were dying down. Yet, the respite lasted for seconds only. Suddenly, Snape arched his back and, with a strangled cry, reared up throwing his arms sideways. Sirius just managed to step aside in time so he wouldn't be hit. The small table beside the bed, however, tipped and fell to the ground together with the stethoscope, potion, water, mirror and spoon.
In the narrow bed, the Potions master now started to throw himself back and forth, screaming, and only the fact that his legs were entangled in the sheets saved him from falling to the floor. It wouldn't work much longer, though.
Sirius was seized by panic. What was he supposed to do? He hadn't expected anything like this at all. First of all, he had to try to keep Snape from hurting himself.
Without thinking twice, he lay down on the man in order to push him back into the pillows with his own weight. However, even when pressing down with all his might and using one leg to pin down Snape's kicking limbs, Sirius hardly managed to keep the screaming and violently convulsing wizard inside the bed.
"Bloody hell, what's wrong with you?" Sirius looked around frantically. He had to somehow fixate Snape, but he couldn't let go of him to fetch some rope or something to bind him. Then his gaze fell upon the mirror on the floor beside the bed. Without taking away his entire weight from Snape, he reached for the mirror and managed to get hold of it with the tips of his fingers. He leaned forward a few more inches, just enough to lift the mirror.
"Pomfrey," he panted into the glass. At the same moment, he was hit into the ribs by a wildly thrashing arm. "Ouch, don't knock me out if you can help it, Snape."
Snape's spasms didn't decrease in strength, and it was frightening to see how much force the otherwise so mangled and weak body could still muster. To Sirius, it seemed to take forever until finally the round face of the Mediwitch appeared inside the magical mirror.
"Mister Black? What ..."
"Madame Pomfrey, you must come here. NOW!" Sirius interrupted. The Mediwitch's eyes widened when noticing the panic in the man's voice, and the mirror went blank as she interrupted the connection.
"You better hurry, Pomfrey," whispered Sirius as he dropped the mirror and concentrated on the convulsing body beneath him. He wouldn't be able to hold Snape down for much longer. His muscles were already beginning to ache from the effort of bracing himself against the writhing Potions master. Nevertheless, it was absolutely necessary to control the spasms as much as possible. He'd no doubt end up having badly sore muscles. And the wounds on Snape's back would be ripped open again. Even worse, however, was the scenario that Dumbledore's favourite Slytherin might hit his head when falling off the bed, or hurt himself even more badly on the ground.
It took less than two minutes until Sirius heard hasty steps hurrying up the wooden stairs, and shortly after, Madame Pomfrey came rushing into the room, closely followed by Dumbledore. They had indeed been quick, Sirius had to admit. The Mediwitch hastened over to the bed. "What happened?"
"Merlin, Sirius, what have you done to Severus?" asked Dumbledore in consternation when he saw what was going on.
Sirius wanted to reply but he still had his hands full with keeping Snape from falling off the bed. He made a mental note to later enlighten Dumbledore about why he was handling 'his' Snape so roughly. As soon as he was delivered from a wildly thrashing Potions master, that is. At least the man didn't scream anymore but groaned through cramped jaws.
"He ripped out the infusion hose," Pomfrey said reproachfully.
"Sorry that I didn't pay attention to that detail on top of it all," Sirius responded with anger.
The Mediwitch ignored his sarcastic remark. "Hold him tight, Mister Black, or he'll hurt himself."
Sirius would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't too busy pressing Snape's upper body back onto the mattress with his all his weight and, at the same time, holding the Potions master's arms down beside his body.
"Really, what do you think I've been doing all the time?"
Pomfrey held Snape's head and checked his pulse. "Albus, come and help me keep him still!" she ordered without looking up.
Dumbledore seemed to awaken from a trance and moved quickly toward the head of the bed when the Mediwitch made room for him. He grabbed the Potions master by his shoulders and held him carefully but with determination while starting to talk to him soothingly.
Pomfrey walked over to the bag she had left there the last time she had visited. She rummaged in it for a short while, took a small, white-and-blue package out of it, opened said package and busied herself with the contents for a moment before returning to the bed. She squeezed in between Sirius and Dumbledore, grabbed Snape's chin deftly and, by exerting pressure to certain points of his jaw, forced his mouth open. She put a little white platelet into his mouth, after which she withdrew the pressure and held his jaws tight with both hands. After a while, Snape's twitching became weaker, and the spasms that had made his body rigid began to subside.
Sirius drew a breath of relief. He half sat up and somewhat slackened his hold, ready to re-establish his grip any moment if necessary. However, Snape had stopped thrashing. Only his sweat-glistening body and an almost invisible quiver were present as last reminders of the previous drama. Dumbledore continued stroking his sweat-matted short hair and talked soothingly to the man whose eyelids were half-closed. Then, after another, more violent shudder, they closed entirely. The ragged, gasping breaths evened out, as the man seemed to finally fall asleep.
Sirius stood up and retreated a step. Immediately, Pomfrey took over his place, reaching for Snape's neck once again. With an unhappy frown she registered the result, then took up the device for measuring the blood pressure and fastened it around the sick wizard's upper arm. Her facial expression darkened considerably when reading the numbers on the display.
"This doesn't look good. His heart is still racing even in his sleep. Whatever has caused this episode still puts his body under enormous stress. What exactly has happened, Mister Black?"
"I gave him the medicine as you told me. Then he started to convulse and scream as if under the Cruciatus."
Pomfrey nodded pensively. "And you gave him only two drops, as I told you?"
"Of course. I can count to two, you know," Sirius answered, slightly annoyed. If they now started accusing him, they would be sorry, extremely sorry.
"I understand," answered the Mediwitch in a drawl. She gazed at the still slightly shivering Snape, frowning. With a sigh, Pomfrey cautiously freed his legs from the sheets, in which he had entangled himself during the fit, and covered him up to his chest. She then looked at Dumbledore, concern in her eyes. "Can I speak with you for a moment, Albus, outside?"
He nodded and stood up, gazing at the sleeping wizard one last time.
Sirius followed them out of the room.
The door had barely closed again, when Pomfrey turned to address them.
"I don't want to risk that Severus can hear us. He should be asleep, but I have no first-hand experience on how these Muggle drugs work exactly. I have to rely solely on the directions that go with the medicine, some Muggle books, and the few things I have learned so far."
"Please, come to the point," grumbled Sirius. His muscles were sore, he was frustrated and thoroughly drenched with sweat, his own and Snape's as well, and he wanted to take a shower as soon as possible, preferably before he began to contemplate that last detail too much. It was disgusting enough as it was.
Pomfrey's face hardened when she commenced explaining.
"I don't know for sure what caused those cramps, but I have a theory. Last time, this didn't happen. I thought that it would work better this time because Severus isn't as weak as before thanks to the fluids he has received through the IV. Unfortunately, the fit has totally annihilated the effect and his heart is extremely weakened and still under enormous stress." She glanced over at the headmaster regretfully. "Albus, if this stress doesn't decrease over the next few hours, I fear he won't survive the night. His heart cannot put up with this much longer. His circulatory system is being strained far too much. I don't want to sound overly pessimistic, but the truth is that you better be prepared for the worst."
Albus nodded full of consternation. "You said you had a theory why he reacted so violently this time but 'only' passed out last time?"
"I believe Mr. Black wasn't that far from the mark with his assumption."
"Pardon? I don't recall having stated any assumptions at all," Sirius threw in.
"Yes, you did," insisted the Mediwitch. "You said that it looked as if Severus were under the Cruciatus. I think you were quite right here."
Sirius raised his hands in denial. "I didn't do anything ..."
Pomfrey managed a weak smile. "No, of course, you didn't. It's rather that the curse Severus was subjected to reacts to magic. Probably, the curse not only used the magic of the healing potion against him, but also the magic of some earlier curse. To perform the Cruciatus, very powerful magic has to be summoned, and it remains inside the victim's body for quite some time, even if you don't feel it anymore. My theory is that what we just witnessed was the echo of a previous Crucio, but thus magnified by the curse and the potion that it hit Severus as if he actually was under the Cruciatus again."
"But why now? Why not the first time you gave him the potion?" asked Dumbledore.
"I believe the dosage was too weak. I gave him only one drop back then."
"This would mean that Severus was tortured with the Cruciatus shortly before we found him," murmured Dumbledore to himself, adding one more detail to a mental list of observations.
"Not necessarily. The curse might have been applied quite some time ago already. As I said, the magic it releases stays within the victim's body for weeks."
"And what to do now, Poppy?" asked Dumbledore dejectedly.
Pomfrey gave an encouraging smile. "There is a Muggle drug I can give Severus that will help support his heart. Otherwise, we can only hope that the residual magic of the curse will fade out soon so that the pressure on his heart will decrease in time. It's his only chance."
Depressed silence followed the statement. Then Sirius cleared his throat. "I'm going to take a shower, if that's okay for you?"
Pomfrey nodded. "Of course. Just do that. And then you should rest a while. I'm going to wash Severus and change the bandages, and for the time being I'll stay here to check on him. We will call on you when we have to leave again."
Albus tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I will think of something to tell the Aurors, but I won't desert Severus again. I'll stay here, no matter how things are going to turn out. I'll fight for his life, and if nothing can be done after all, then I won't let him die alone."
Dumbledore spoke with determination. His voice, however, was old and withered. Once again, Sirius asked himself what on earth it was that the man saw in the slimy Slytherin. It was way beyond his comprehension, but for some reason or other, Dumbledore seemed to genuinely like the greasy git.
Sirius watched Pomfrey and the headmaster re-enter the room. Then he sighed and started on his way to the bathroom.
T.B.C.
Translated by Persephone Lupin.
Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra