A Promise to be Better 12
Author: Raven Dancer
disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling except for the Drs. Barnes and Beryl. I receive no monetary compensation for these works.
Summary: Snape answers Voldemort's call.
Dumbledore was still chuckling to himself as he ascended the stairs to his offices. Minerva certainly had her hands full this year! The Weasley twins were in rare form. They were determined to make it a very 'special' year. He had sent them to clean out a neglected classroom and collect the boggart within for Professor Lupin. Not an insurmountable task but one that would prove difficult enough.
He wondered if Snape would appreciate the punishment. He was definitely going to describe in detail sending the boys off with a big, sturdy oak box and a butterfly's net. How he'd ever managed to convince them to use that was masterful. McGonagall fell over laughing once they left her office. They were to report to Lupin for his assistance. Lupin would have a wonderful laugh. Yes, Snape had been right. Detentions should fit the transgression.
Opening his door he tossed his outer cloak on the rack and looked about. Barnes was reading on the couch but Snape was no where to be seen.
"Severus?" he called. Barnes looked up.
"I think he fell asleep in the bedroom," the Healer offered. Dumbledore checked, sticking his head inside. The bed was unruffled and the chair empty. Only the drapes moved slightly in the breeze; the window was open.
"Jeffrey, when did Severus go into the bedroom?" he asked, concerned, moving into the bedroom. The Healer got up and joined him looking around. Closet and washroom were checked.
"Maybe twenty minutes ago. He told me he had to take care of something, that he'd be back,") Barnes explained. He watched the Headmaster's face pale considerably as he sank onto the bed.
"Take care of something?" the older man repeated weakly.
"Well, yes. I just thought he was going to lie down, he's been a bit sleepy since the potion started to take effect," the Healer explained.
"Jeffrey, the window's open. The broom," he looked at the empty stand by the bedroom door, "is gone. He must have been summoned." Now the Healer paled.
"Oh, gods, if he's gone to Voldemort in this condition," Barnes sank down on the bed, too.
"What condition. Explain to me what the potion really will do, Just a moment," Dumbledore pushed up off the bed and rang the house elf bell. Beryl reported immediately.
"Beryl, can you get to the watchers in the forest?" the wizard asked. Beryl shook his head.
"Oh, yes. Beryl can go and talk to them now, Headmaster Dumbledore," he bounced.
"Go and ask if they've seen Professor Snape. He was probably flying a broom," and the elf burst out the windows. The Headmaster now turned to the Doctor.
"The potion does separate the emotional reactions from the rational. It effects the endorphin release in the brain, but no one is exactly sure how it does and what else it might stimulate. In all the test groups there was significant improvement in the subjects given the potion," he spoke clinically.
"Side-effects?" Dumbledore pushed.
"Well, they differ from person to person. Severus was somewhat sleepy and chatty. For Severus. He was very comfortable curled up in his chair. I think he might have been a bit dizzy, but (he didn't complain about that as he usually does." Barnes looked up frightened. "What will happen to him, Albus?"
"I don't know," the Headmaster replies, staring out the window.
Snape dropped the broom next to the tree. He'd find it when he came back or not; he didn't really care. Part of him realized this was probably a rather stupid thing to do. Voldemort must have figured out he saved the muggles and was now going to kill him. On the other hand, he might still want a 'spy' in Dumbledore's circle. Overall, it really didn't matter. He had been cheating death since he was a child. Given he'd reached 37, about 32 years more than he ever expected, it really seemed silly to hide now. Pressing the burning dark mark he apparated.
He found himself in a large room. He recognized it !as a sitting room in the old Riddle mansion. gods knew he'd been there before, usually on the floor fighting off the effects of some curse or another. Malfoy and another wizard were standing off by the fireplace. In the large, wing-backed chair, with Wormtail standing near, lounged Voldemort.
With two long steps, and a dizzy gasp, he assumed the 'position': prostrate and waiting.
"Well, well, Severus. How prompt of you," the dark mage said softly, looking over the still form.
"I endeavor to please you, master," Snape replied. Stifled snickers from the fireplace. Oh, that was not good.
"Really? Let's see if you'll please me now," Voldemort waved his wand over the form, "Crucio."
Snape did more than endeavor, he writhed on the ground as a scream ripped from him. Part of him was in incredible pain, he thought. Of course, part of him was simply observing this, completely detached. gods, it hurts. Interesting.
Voldemort smiled, but then the smile faded. Severus Snape was twisting at his feet screaming. Severus Snape never screamed on the first application of the cruciatus curse. That was what made it so enjoyable; his resistance. The dark wizard liked seeing how long this particular servant held out.
"Finitum," he snarled. He had to wait for the spasming to stop.
"Severus, what's the meaning of this? Are you ill?" he ground out angrily. Snape was slow in answering. Lucius Malfoy strode over and kicked him hard in the ribs.
"Answer, you damned traitor!" the man was gloating. He'd finally convinced Voldemort of Snape's betrayal. This secured his own return. Malfoy and his companions were hoping for a wonderfully long torture. Snape slowly curled up struggling with his breath.
The Potions Master could feel the intense pain as he forced air in and out of his lungs. Some were cracked, but hopefully not broken. He realized he was thinking clearly as another part of his mind dealt with the enormous fire coursing through his side.
"Malfoy! I did not ask for a display of your stupidity," Voldemort flipped his wand sending the surprised wizard flying into the brick of the fireplace where he hit with a dull thud before sliding to the ground. They all waited, not necessarily patiently, for Snape to gain enough breath to speak.
"The Healer, Barnes, injected some potion in me," Snape managed to eek out. "He and Dumbledore have been after me since last summer. They seem to think I'm rather 'stressed out'."
"Stressed out? What sort of idiotic crap is that?" Wormtail sneered. He was quickly cowed by his master's wand as it waved a warning. Voldemort leaned forward.
"What do you mean by this, Severus," he was intrigued. What was that fool Dumbledore doing to his spy? He really was worthless like this.
"I was out of control at the beginning of term; I sent over a dozen students to the hospital wing. I was not sleeping, I was not able to keep food down. The Healer decided I was having some sort of a breakdown. So they've been taking care of me with potions, trying to make me function better," Snape was chattering away. He was about to launch into another facet of his problems when WorImtail moved to his side and kicked him hard again.
"Worthless spy," he began, but was quickly silenced as Voldemort sent his minion crashing into the fireplace, falling down hard on top of Malfoy.
"I said to let him talk," Voldemort hissed. Snape twisted on the floor. Now ribs were broken. He could feel them grating against each other. His body reacted, tears streamed down his face. He knew he was moaning, he knew he was having difficulty breathing. He really didn't care.
"Kill me. You have others as highly placed in Dumbledore's circle don't you? Someone who can go back and forth with information? Even a spy has his uses," Snape got out, small splatters of blood from his nose as he breathed. Huh. Lung must be punctured. It certainly hurt enough.
Voldemort considered. Yes, he had other highly placed spies in the ministry itself. But none even remotely close to Dumbledore. Plus Snape was able to withstand a lot of torture. Usually. He could shield his mind and emotions. It pleasured Voldemort to see Snape twist and fight the curse before finally succumbing to the pain. Very enjoyable. Also, Snape had brought him important information in the past. Always walked a fine line between dark and light. The wizard still could be used for Voldemort's gain if played just right. At least he could have one more try at torturing him.
Voldemort licked his lips in anticipation; a shiver ran through his body.
Glancing down he frowned, seeing the blood. Damn that worthless Wormtail. Malfoy's kick had been bad enough; now there was blood on the carpet. Plus his spy was bleeding to death before him. His and Dumbledore's only link. He would not sever that link.
Yet.
Waving his wand idly he sent a binding charm, wrapping the broken ribs to help support the fallen wizard. Looking up he looked at his three choices. Forget the worm; he was unconscious. Malfoy was up, but he did not trust the wizard. Not when it came to Severus Snape.
"Gibbons. You will take Snape back to the Forbidden Forest and bring him close to the school. There are watchers in the forest; just make sure they find him and not some hungry creature. You will not harm him in any way," he held the death eater's eyes until he nodded in agreement.
"Severus, you will go back to your precious Albus. You will serve me until I have no more use for you," Voldemort leaned back in his chair.
"Yes, master," Snape sounded strained.
"I'll help Gibbons," Malfoy offered, looking a bit too eager.
"No. I'm not quite through with your reinitiation, Lucius. Gibbons has proven true; he will return Severus without killing him 'accidentally'," Voldemort said coldly. Another sweep of his wand and Lucius dropped to the floor fighting back screams. He lost the fight quickly twisting and screaming nearly two minutes before the cruciatus curse was terminated.
"I'd allow Severus to return his injury, blow for blow, but seeing that he's incapacitated. Gibbons?" and the man so named moved to Malfoy's side and struck him viscously in the ribs.
A stretcher was conjured and Snape was removed, the one named Gibbons apparated them both back to the Forbidden Forest.
"You were lucky, Snape. Voldemort was going to kill you. After awhile," Gibbons remarked.
"I do not have any luck. I only have postponed the inevitable," Snape replied, gasping slightly. Getting a breath was difficult. He felt the stretcher move through the forest.
"I will tell you this much, Snape, Voldemort is planning to harrass Dumbledore's efforts. He has a weapon that has been modified from the old reign; one you will probably recognize as soon as you see it. He will be releasing it in the forest soon," Gibbons said carefully, making sure Snape was listening.
"Why are you telling me this, Gibbons? You know I will only go and tell Dumbledore," Snape barely managed.
"Because, I still haven't decided which side will win," the wizard mirthlessly grinned. "I think your way has merit; if you survive the abuses."
Snape merely grunted, then coughed hard. Blood flowed from his lips. Gibbons became concerned. The wizard could not die; not because Voldemort had ordered it but because the information needed to get to Dumbledore. It guaranteed Gibbons at least a fair hearing in case Voldemort fell.
"IF THERE ARE ANY WATCHERS AROUND, COME AND GET YOUR PROFESSOR SNAPE!" Gibbons yelled aloud. Movement to his left. A House elf bounced out oëf the brush and leapt on top of the stretcher. Teeth bared.
"Dobby takes Professor Snape. Dobby takes Professor Snape now!" the elf hissed. Gibbons raised his wand and apparated.
The keening of the watcher brought others immediately. These surrounded the fallen wizard then two disappeared in a race for the humans.
Hagrid crashed through the forest first, finding the watchers as they kept up the alarm. He knelt by the stretcher. "Severus? Can ya hear me?"
A weak cough, but no words. Hagrid quickly felt Snape's robes locating his wand. He quickly raised the stretcher and began moving through the forest as quickly as he could. It was fortunate they were close to the castle. The house elves bounced around them, zipping ahead and falling back watching for trouble. They made it to the edge of the forest and saw the castle looming up in the dark.
"HAGRID!" Barnes was running [towards him, Lupin and Dumbledore well behind.
"He's in a bad way, Jeffy. Sumthing's wrong wit his lungs," Hagrid explained quickly. Barnes laid hands on the wizard's chest and began to read the injuries to his body. He immediately ripped Snape's robes open. His bag was opened next and a sealed bag extracted. Ripping it opened, a long, thin, tube was removed. One end was metal and razor-sharp.
"I have to drain his lung, now. He's drowning," Barnes said quickly to the big man. "Hold him down, tight."
Alcohol was poured out on Snape's lower chest. Barnes prodded against his rib cage searching for a good spot.
"Sorry, Severus, this is going to really hurt," the Healer murmured then pushed the sharp tube through the skin, between ribs and into the lung. He was immediately rewarded by a thin stream of blood and a low whimper from the /Potions Master.
Quickly Barnes poured himself inside Snape, bolstering the one working lung while beginning to pull back the broken ribs. One had punctured the lung. The Healer was no longer aware of his surroundings, totally consumed in his work. Lupin had pulled up next to Hagrid, who was still holding the injured man followed by Dumbledore.
"Beryl, go get Dr. Barnes' father. He's in my office!" the Headmaster sent the house elf off in a crackling blast. Long, tense minutes passed as they watched Snape struggling to breathe.
A light announced the second Healer's approach. James Barnes handed the lantern to Lupin as he knelt down next to his son. He too, placed hands on the fallen professor and began to scan, working in concert.
The worst was repaired quickly enough. Ribs were returned to their original positions, lung sack mended, re-inflated, dry. Snape found breathing easier and he blinked his eyes opened in confusion.
Now Dumbledore fell to his knees, bending close he stroked his friend's face.
"Albus?" he whispered.
"You're safe, child, just let the Healers take care of you," the Headmaster murmured, comforting Snape as best he could. In an amazingly short period of time the younger Barnes pulled back and surveyed their work. The tube was removed, the cut pushed closed and sealed. His father stayed a moment longer checking the internal conditions before pulling out.
"Antibiotics," he said.
"Right. Let's get him inside and clean him up," Jeffrey agreed. Between the blood, the sweat and the dirt Snape was filthy. Even with magical healing the germs were rampant. A muggle's potion was needed to continue the process.
Snape squirmed in pain. His mind seemed to be reuniting; the feeling and the thinking. Now he hurt. He tried to dampen it, think of anything else, but each breath in and out lanced his side in fire. Both Healers looked down at him.
"Let me," the elder doctor said. He placed his hand against Snape's head and murmured a charm, effectively lessening the pain through the release of endorphins. The patient relaxed, opening exhausted eyes.
"Albus?" he asked again, looking for his friend. Dumbledore simply pulled him onto his lap snugging him close. If they thought the wizard had been near breaking before he was definitely shattered now, completely hiding inside the Headmaster's arms and robes.
