Chapter 51:

Harry's Confession

'... Add three beetle legs, then stir seven times counter-clockwise,' recited Snape silently while staring at the ceiling which was turning brighter and brighter in the early morning light. 'Mind that it's essential to use the left legs of the male stag-beetle only, otherwise the potion will have the reverse effect ...'

Severus had woken up hours ago. Or rather, he had started from a particularly nasty and far too realistic nightmare featuring a cold cell in Azkaban where he had been suspended from the wall, arms bound tightly behind his back, an ocean of white-hot coals only inches beneath his dangling feet.

Shortly after he awoke, Black had emerged, carrying another plate with soup.

That was in the middle of the night, though, and Severus still wondered how Black could possibly have heard him since the Gryffindor should have been sound asleep. However, this time Snape had let the Animagus spoon-feed him without protest. There was no sense in fighting it anyway. Black had been grumpy, his hair ruffled, and he was wearing pyjamas, but he had fed him the soup without a single word, helped him with a glass of water, and then manoeuvred him into a different position before leaving the room again, muttering something about 'missed sleep' and 'surely on purpose' under his breath.

Severus was only too glad when Black had finally left. Having to subordinate himself like this made him feel increasingly miserable. His shoulders and the other injuries were aching, and in the dark and silent room the memories of the torture came even more alive than during the day. He had been awake for quite a while now. Longer than ever before since his rescue, and he realised that it was rather horrible to not be able to sink back into the dark oblivion of sleep. So horrible that he almost wished Black was back, if only to distract him from the haunting memories.

At some point, he had begun to mentally brew potions in a desperate attempt to suppress the resurfacing memories and emotions, and as so often before, his potions had not betrayed him; at least as long as his concentration was not disrupted by another wave of intense agony. Every tiny movement was causing him pain, and therefore he tried to lie as motionless as possible. Nevertheless, he was plagued by sudden cramps from time to time that made his muscles burn as if on fire, reminiscent of particularly severe after-effects of the Cruciatus.

Only late in the morning, when it was already light outside, did Severus fall asleep again, having by that time finished a very complex Invisibility potion.

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Minerva McGonagall was having quite some difficulty concentrating on the students' essays she was supposed to correct. In ten minutes the sixth years would be arriving, and they would be only too happy to finally have their homework assignments back. Usually, it did not take Minerva more than two or three days at the maximum. However, the events of the previous days and the extra work substituting for the headmaster whenever he was at the Ministry, with Snape, or searching ancient tomes for Dark curses had mixed up her schedule considerably.

There was only one essay left, but she had the feeling that she would not be able to finish it in time for class. Again and again, her thoughts drifted back to Lupin, who had come to see her less than half an hour ago and told her what he had found in this little hut of his.

Remus had been worried. He had not related what exactly had occurred, but he had voiced his doubts about the arrangement and said that it would come close to a miracle if Sirius were actually able to help Snape heal. Minerva had already anticipated something like that. She was painfully aware of that Albus had not had many options, but to place Sirius Black and Severus Snape under the same roof without constant supervision was a disaster waiting to happen.

Ever since they had found Severus, Minerva had been informed about what was going on in Remus' house, and as Albus was still at the Ministry and had not come back at all last night it was up to her to keep an eye on things. She had promised Albus to look after Severus herself in the evening, in case he had not returned by then.

Minerva was extremely nervous about this visit. On the one hand, she wanted to make sure her young colleague was alive and recovering. On the other hand, however, she dreaded seeing with her own eyes what Albus and Poppy had told her about his injuries.

She had known the young Slytherin since he was a child of eleven years. It would have been a bold overstatement to say that she had actually liked him as a student. Almost nobody had liked the boy. And this had not changed much as he grew up since Severus Snape had the unique talent to be insufferable most of the time. Nevertheless, over the years, she had come to deeply respect the man. He had made mistakes in his life, but he did everything in his might to right his wrongs and atone for his sins with a courage and bravery most of her Gryffindors would never be able to muster. Moreover, and contrary to the obvious, you could rely on Severus Snape more than on any other person when things became truly nasty.

He had not only earned her respect, but also the respect of most members of the Order, and especially Albus seemed to care a good deal about him. After Severus had almost died two nights ago, the headmaster had been extremely worried and worn-out. Poppy had decided then that it was too risky to give Severus the potion on grounds of a mere assumption and that they would leave it with the dose they had already given him, hoping that it would be enough or that he did not really need it in the first place.

Sighing, Minerva put the quill away. It was just impossible for her to concentrate on the last of the essays, and if Seamus Finnigan had to wait for his until next class, the others would have to wait as well.

"Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva looked up, taken totally by surprise. She had been so absorbed in thought that she had not even noticed the door open and now, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were standing in the doorway, looking at her quizzically.

"You are too early," came her stern reprimand.

"I know," said Harry, slightly nervous. "We're looking for the headmaster, but we can't find him anywhere."

"Don't just stand in the doorframe. Come on in already if you want to talk to me," McGonagall admonished. "Professor Dumbledore's still at the Ministry. Can I help you somehow?"

Potter and his friends walked into the classroom and came to a halt in front of her desk.

"We just wanted to ask how Professor Snape is doing. Professor Dumbledore told us that things weren't all that well yesterday," Hermione explained.

Minerva surveyed the guilty expressions on the three students' faces. "He is stable, but it will take quite some time until he will be up and about again. He is doing a little better each day, though."

Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances, and this time it was the Weasley-boy who spoke. "How did he react when he heard who gave him away?"

The three were looking even guiltier than before.

"We haven't mentioned it so far. Professor Snape's condition has not allowed it yet, and as long as he doesn't ask, we don't think it wise, nor necessary, to further upset him."

Miss Granger was chewing her lip and the two boys looked to the floor self-consciously. Severus did not tend to get loud very often. Most of the times his vicious tongue and haughty sarcasm were more than sufficient to impress people. However, if he did lose control, a raging Severus Snape was not something you cared to see twice. According to Lupin, the trio had had the pleasure already once, so it was quite understandable that the prospect of another of Snape's raging fits on finally hearing the truth about the letter was not exactly an uplifting one.

Therefore, Minerva was genuinely surprised when Harry cleared his throat and said; "We'd like to visit him and tell him ourselves when he feels a bit better."

At those words, Minerva's initial surprise transformed into pride. Her three young Gryffindors were brave enough to face their own mistakes and shoulder the consequences, no matter what.

"I'm going to see him tonight after dinner. You may accompany me if you wish to. However, I will decide whether or not you can talk to him after I have seen him myself and found out if he is well enough to hear your confession yet."

The three students nodded, managing to look both relieved and very uncomfortable at the same time.

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When Minerva entered Severus' room a couple of hours later, glancing at him for the first time, the determination to not let the three Gryffindors come close to his bed if she could help it formed in her mind immediately.

The man, who was lying motionless on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, was hardly recognisable as Hogwart's Potions master. His face was that of a starved man, skin drawn tightly over protruding cheekbones, making his nose look even more prominent than usual. His eyes were sunk deep in their sockets, and a dark stubble had begun to cover his chin and cheeks. Since Voldemort's curse had robbed him of all his magic, the spell that kept most male wizards shaven neatly had lost its effect, too. Never in her life had Minerva seen Severus unshaven, and this simply felt wrong. Together with the short hair, everything that once was characteristic of the Head of Slytherin seemed to be gone.

Something inside Minerva's chest clenched. Severus Snape was not a man you felt pity for, yet, she was deeply moved by the pitiful sight.

"Hello Severus," she greeted softly.

The man in the sickbed moved his head and looked at her with blank eyes before curling his lips and turning away only to continue his staring contest with the ceiling, not acknowledging her presence in the least.

Minerva took a deep breath. She should have expected the young teacher to sulk. Severus was not a person who would handle being sick well. To be dependent on others was not easy for the Slytherin, and now, being stripped of any semblance of control over his life, he had to completely rely on other people even for the most elemental chores for his body.

On the one hand, she pitied him for what had happened to him, but on the other hand, Minerva was of the opinion that he ought to act more like an adult. Severus had always done what was necessary in the fight against Voldemort, even risked his life again and again, why then was it so hard for him to accept the – admittedly unpleasant, though quite necessary – momentary situation?

Stupid Slytherin pride.

"How are you doing, Severus?" she asked, approaching his bed and coming to a halt beside it.

Severus did not answer. However, a resigned expression stole into his eyes for the briefest of moments, vanishing so quickly again that Minerva could not be sure she was not imagining things. "Sorry, a stupid question," she tried to appease. Judging from his appearance and all the bandages reminiscent of the terrible wounds on his body, the question was probably not a well-chosen one.

"Where is Albus?" asked Severus hoarsely in an attempt to shift attention away from him.

"He's still at the Ministry trying to get the Aurors removed from Hogwarts. If he succeeds, we'll be able to take you home." Minerva was surprised by her motherly tone of voice, but Hogwarts just was not the same without the morose, surly Head of Slytherin. She missed their verbal duelling and the constant competition with the man more than she was ready to ever admit.

Severus snorted. "I thought I couldn't come to a place that is magically warded?"

"This is only temporary, Severus. We'll find a counter-curse soon. You could help us immensely if you remembered what curse Voldemort used on you."

Usually, Minerva was not a person to raise false hope, after all it was very likely that Voldemort had chosen a curse which could not be countered easily, however, she had the feeling that Severus would not much appreciate the truth right now.

Snape seemed to ponder the question briefly, but then the expression on his face hardened. "I can't remember!" he hissed.

Minerva had to make an effort to not react sternly to his harsh words and the fact that he had not even tried to co-operate. After all, he was far from being a friendly and patient fellow even under normal circumstances. He would need some empathy, now. "Are you quite sure? If only you tried to concentrate ..."

"I SAID I DIDN'T REMEMBER!"

Stubborn Slytherin brat. Seldom had Minerva encountered somebody so anti-social. Well, if he did not want her to help him… Anyhow, he seemed to be in a better form than expected if he was already able to throw a tantrum.

"Very well then. Then we'll just leave it for now. In case you are interested in us breaking the curse so that you can use magic again, just say so. In the meantime – Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger are waiting downstairs. They'd like to tell you something."

Not waiting for his reaction to this revelation, she left the room hastily. Better he let off some steam before she came back with the children. If the three were willing to subject themselves to his foul mood, that was. He would hardly stay nice and calm when they came out with their confession since, apparently, he looked much worse than he was, his injuries not seeming to have quenched his volatile temperament in the least.

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Severus was beginning to feel like a rare animal in a Muggle zoo people were standing in queue for to have a look at. The local attraction, please register for watching the feeding ritual. Yes, really. Star in a curiosity show, that's what he was still good enough for. And to top it all, McGonagall had had the cheek to ask him whether he remembered Voldemort's curse.

At her question, blurry memories of words chanted by Voldemort had flickered through his mind, but whenever he tried to catch hold of them, his thoughts had wheeled towards how he had been crouching on a leash, crying on the floor and mentally prostituting himself in front of the Dark Lord.

He only hoped Minerva had not noticed the flush of shame burning in his cheeks.

"I can't remember!" he had shouted at her angrily, at the same time forcing himself to mentally recite the recipe of the Wolfsbane potion to distract himself from the humiliating memory.

However, the annoying woman did not intend to leave him in peace. Damn, he did not want to remember, why could that daft Gryffindor not understand this?

The second time she asked him, he had voiced his refusal in a volume that even Minerva would understand and he was successful. The Transfigurations Professor had given up all her false friendliness, gracing him with a stern and probably somewhat disappointed glance, and then she had disclosed to him that the infernal threesome wished to see him before rushing out of his room without as much as giving him the briefest chance to object.

His life was becoming increasingly unbearable.

When the three students entered the room and stood there gloating at him disrespectfully, mouths agape, Severus sneered at them as spitefully as possible. They should not be here. He was their teacher, and they were supposed to respect him, but Harry was James bloody Potter's son, and he, too, would have his every wish fulfilled by the teachers and the headmaster without having to follow any rules, exactly like his father.

Black and Lupin had had their share of seeing him helpless and vulnerable already. Since James Potter was dead, it obviously was his son's turn to enjoy the show. It was not fair that they should see him like this. He had always been the teacher with both the power and the will to deduct points and give out detention. By picking on Potter Junior, he had been able to exert at least some revenge over his father. For once, it had been him who had the upper hand, and he had thoroughly enjoyed the feeling as some kind of recompense for many years of being victimised by Potter Senior and his gang, but now, this power over the boy would be broken for good.

'Potter did not let Voldemort's torture get him down,' a mean voice whispered inside his head. That Potter's imprisonment had lasted for a brief moment only, was of no significance. Once again, a Potter had achieved something he had failed at miserably.

"What do you brats want here?" he hissed at them.

"We wanted to see how you were doing, Professor," stammered Granger awkwardly.

They seemed to be rather uncomfortable in his presence, however, the expression of dread usually displayed by every student in expectance of some disaster when on the receiving end of his wrath, was suspiciously absent in their eyes. No wonder. Who would be impressed by a man who was lying in bed unable to even feed on his own?

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw McGonagall and Black entering the room behind the children and heard the Gryffindor teacher gasp with indignation at his conduct towards the kids, but he ignored her.

"Don't act as if my well-being concerned you in the least. Why are you here?"

"It's about ... ehm, well, ..." Weasley's voice seemed to be stuck somewhere in his throat and was hardly more than a squeak when he interrupted himself.

The three looked more nervous by the minute, something that annoyed Severus to no end. "Stop spouting gibberish at me, Weasley. If you have something to say then do it and get lost."

To Severus' satisfaction, Weasley and Granger flinched slightly, and only Potter straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath before having the cheek to look him in the eyes. Blasted Gryffindor.

"It's about the letter Voldemort intercepted, Professor."

Obviously, Potter wanted to say more, however, his courage seemed to desert him at last and he lowered his head guiltily. "Well, the letter ... I was having a vision about you killing the McGregors ..."

Snape felt the blood leaving his face when he understood. Often enough he had asked himself how the writer of the letter could possibly know about the McGregors. Obviously, he had failed to take Potter's visions into account. "It was you," he concluded quietly.

Potter nodded awkwardly while his two sidekicks were staring guiltily to the floor. "We are so sorry," Granger whispered almost inaudibly.

"We didn't know that Sirius was alive and that you were still on our side. We only wanted to..." Potter fell silent as if his words, too, were stuck in his throat.

So, it had been Potter and his gang who were responsible for what had happened, he thought.

This was so humiliating that shame threatened to overpower the anger that was building in Severus' chest. Three students, almost children yet, had destroyed the plan and put him at the mercy of Malfoy and Voldemort. Plus, Potter had witnessed how he had been forced to kill Molly and Charles in order to not blow his cover and save the two from a worse fate. Already years ago, this aspect of his spying job had gotten to him, and nobody, nobody at all, was supposed to watch this. He felt the overwhelming desire to yell at the three until they were trembling with fear, or attack them. If he only had his wand, he could not guarantee for anything. However, he would have to be able to hold it in the first place then, the soft voice inside his head sneered.

Besides, what would be the use? Now that the teenagers had seen him in such a vulnerable position they would hardly take him seriously anymore, would they now? Nobody seemed to mind that. Malfoy was right. He was pathetic. The three students would play him up just outside his grasp like they would a chained dog. A chained and mad barking dog without teeth. One everybody could have a good laugh at behind his back. Or even in his face.

He wanted to shout, to chase the brats away but all of a sudden, he found himself lacking the necessary energy.

"You wanted to finish what your father and his gang had begun, didn't you?" he said instead, almost in a whisper. He had tried to make his voice as insulting as possible, and with a touch of satisfaction, he registered the hurt expression on Potter's face. He had hit a nerve. Why then did the usual feeling of superiority not come?

For a moment, James' son looked at him, tears in his eyes, before he choked out, "I'm sorry," and fled the room with a sob. Granger and Weasley managed a curt apology as well, even though their hurt and almost angry glares were telling a different story. Then, they rushed after their friend.

"Really, Severus," exclaimed Minerva. "Can't you ever hold back your vicious tongue, even when somebody wants to apologise to you? They made a mistake, but they acted with the best of intentions. You of all people should be able to understand that. You really are impossible. Why don't you just shout at the boy if you absolutely want to act childishly? No, you do have to leash out and deeply hurt him. But you have no right to hurt Harry like this, no right at all!"

Determinedly, Snape stared at the ceiling above him. Again, everybody stood up for a Potter. He, of course, had no right to hurt precious Harry. What the brat had done to him was not that bad, he was alive after all, and he had not done it out of evil intentions. It was of no importance that the Gryffindor had destroyed his life. An apology and everything was well and forgotten. Exactly like with the Shrieking Shack ...

He continued staring at the ceiling, fighting back the hot, stinging tears that threatened to his eyes until Minerva and an uncharacteristically quiet Sirius Black had left the room, most probably to console and encourage Potter. Only then, he let a single tear escape from the corner of his eye, leaving a wet trace behind when disappearing in the hair around his temple.

TBC

Translated by Persephone Lupin,

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra.