A Promise to be Better 40

Author: Raven Dancer

disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling except for the Drs. Barnes, Beryl and Gibbons. I receive no monetary compensation for these works.

Summary: Healings too.

Snape drifted on the warmth, drowsing. He felt like he'd curled up in the sunshine, the tingling light had blanketed him and he stretched very slightly. No pain. He'd hurt before, he was sure of that. But not now.

Voices meandered into his consciousness. Snape concentrated and recognized Jeffrey and Dr. James. As he floated he wondered where he was. He had been on Albus' couch. The Potions Master let his right eye slit open.

Now he was in Albus' bed under soft flannel sheets. Someone had taken his clothing again. It had happened all too often of late and he fleetingly thought about being upset. The indignity of it all! But it hurt to hold onto the annoyance and he let it slip away.

Turning his attention back to the Healers, he realized that there was another voice. Albus. Snape's lips curved into a small smile of happiness. Albus came. Albus saved him. Albus threw Black across the room for being bad.

Albus loved him. He was loved.

That thought sustained him for several minutes until he felt hands on him. Rather 'friendly' hands, at that. His eyes flew open.

How in the name of all things sacred did he get into the bathtub?

"Well, Severus, nice of you to join us," Dr. James' amused voice positively sparkled. He continued to run a soapy cloth over the thin torso.

"You get to eat next, need to get some weight on you!" a second voice intoned. Shifting his gaze Snape saw Jeffrey, also with a washcloth working on his legs.

"I thought I was well enough to bathe myself, Barnes," Snape tried to growl. It was a pathetic little mewling noise and Dr. James shifted, putting a hand on the wet wizard's shoulder to send in a stream of energy. With a small moan Snape's eyes closed.

"Now I know where Jeffrey gets his mean streak! James! Severus has been out for nearly five hours and you've put him back asleep!" Dumbledore groused, but he was smiling.

"I'm not asleep. I was just resting my eyes," Snape tried hissing this time with disastrous results. Everyone laughed at him. The Potions Master thought it was a rather loud outburst and managed to open his eyes again. He could vaguely make out the Healers and then two more human shapes beyond.

"What am I, the floor show?" Snape complained, dropping any attempt to sound intimidating. Sounds of movement caught his

attention, but he couldn't see beyond the Healers clearly.

"Just relax, Severus," Dr. James cajoled. "We want to make you more comfortable." Rumbling softly Snape allowed them to continue to wash him. It did feel good, the warmth and the embrace of the water. The herbs they dropped in the water created a lovely fragrance. He sighed wondering if he'd smell of lavender and sage when he was dry.

The Potions Master drifted again, letting them take care of him. He was rinsed, dried and salve was rubbed gently into all his hurts. Then his nose began twitching. Something smelled wonderful. Once more Snape slit his eyes opened and looked around.

"Hullo, child. Would you like some soup?" Dumbledore asked gently. He held a large mug and spoon. Pushing up slowly, Snape looked at the steaming liquid, very interested. He nodded happily as he managed to sit up against the pillows. The Headmaster was pleased his friend was hungry again: he'd gone for weeks with no appetite to speak of.

Movement in the bed next to him drew his attention. Snape glanced down and noticed Jeffrey sleeping beside him. The Healer looked peaceful enough. Barnes had been very busy between poking and prodding him ceaselessly, healing him with his energy, and then scrubbing him down. Probably dried and dressed him, too. Healing took a lot of energy; and the exhaustion on the young man's face meant the Potions Master must have been pretty hurt earlier.

Earlier. Hmmmm. What had happened? He was doing so much better but he had been hurt. That's right. Jeffrey: had been healing him; he'd had cuts and wood splinters. Snape's hand ghosted over his shoulder as the pain was recalled.

Noodle soup. Chicken. *sigh* The savory aroma filled his nose and distracted him for a moment. Snape accepted another mouthful. He rolled the soft noodles on his tongue trying to concentrate. How did he get splinters? Oh, yes, he'd fallen on the coffee table and shattered it. Not fallen. He'd been thrown.

Dumbledore noticed Snape's eyes widen significantly as they rose to meet his. The Potions Master was searching for something.

"Child?" he prompted. Something was brewing.

"You threw him," Snape murmured.

"Threw who?" the Headmaster asked, slightly confused.

"You threw Black across the room. Away from me," Snape searched those clear blue eyes for understanding. Dumbledore smiled slightly and raised the spoon to the ill wizard's lips.

"He was hurting you, Severus. No one is going to hurt my child," the Headmaster said firmly, a flash of fire in his eyes. Snape blinked, processing the information.

"Your child?" he barely said aloud.

"My child," Dumbledore affirmed, wiping away soup that had dripped down Snape's chin. Dark eyes went soft.

"I never knew," he said shyly. "I never thought,"

"What, child?" the Headmaster pursued.

"I never thought I was worth it," Snape's eyes dropped, uncertain, and Dumbledore reached out, taking his chin firmly, raising his friend's eyes back to him.

"You are worth all the stars and planets in the heavens to me. You are my greatest pride and joy. You could not mean more to me even if you were really my flesh and blood. You are my child. Mine. Never forget that" Dumbledore said with such sincerity that tears suddenly threatened to spill out of Snape's eyes. The Headmaster's eyes reflected the light, sparkling with unspilt tears of his own.

Snape savored the acceptance, letting the wonder and warmth fill him. No one had ever really wanted him. Even his parents hadn't claimed him. He was just a major annoyance most of the time. As they sat there, Snape went on remembering the earlier part of the day. The Headmaster had saved him, Jeffrey and James had worked on him. Why had Black bothered him in the first place?

Eyes narrowed as Snape mentally reconstructed the conversation. Suddenly the Potions Master jerked up, would have catapulted off the bed if it weren't for Dumbledore. Soup was knocked aside and landed on the sle7eping healer. Dumbledore quickly sent a cooling charm, although the liquid had not been that hot.

"HARRY!" Snape yelled, frightened at the thought of the student being cursed.

"UGH!" Jeffrey slowly sat up shaking off broth and noodles. There was a slimy feel as noodles and broth slipped down the neck of his sleep shirt. The Healer found a clean corner of sheet and started to wipe off his face. This definitely was not a pleasant way to wake up!

"Harry. Harry's been cursed. I need to go take the curse off," Snape babbled, agitated, as Dumbledore tried to soothe him. Pulling noodles off his face and flicking them on the blanket, Barnes turned to his patient.

"Severus! Calm down!" the Healer put a wet hand on the Potions Master's face, trying to gain his attention. Snape weakly struggled a moment more before falling back against the pillows. He whimpered, messy and trapped. Battling both the child within who wanted to flee and the real fear building inside his stomach the ill wizard strived to remain calm. He was not convincing.

"I have to go to him," Snape whispered brokenly.

"NO," Barnes and Dumbledore started at the same time, making eye contact with one another. Startled, Snape wrapped his arms tightly around his torso and began to rock slightly. Both wizards leaned forward to comfort, causing their patient to flinch and try to slide away. The Headmaster nodded and Barnes continued.

"Harry is in the hospital wing. We've got him stabilized for now. You need to rest first. Tomorrow will be soon enough," Barnes told the ill wizard as he began sending more soothing energy.

"But he's dying," Snape insisted desperately, managing to stay in the here and now.

"He's resting, Severus. Dr. James went down and took care of him. He'll be just fine until tomorrow. He's asleep. You should be asleep, too," the Healer said firmly.

"You need to eat more, then sleep," Dumbledore added.

"But," Snape whispered.

"No buts, child," Dumbledore smoothed Snape's hair back.

Jeffrey squished off to the washroom while the Headmaster assisted his friend. Dobby and Beryl stripped the bed putting on clean sheets and blankets.

More food was brought up from the kitchen as they settled Snape at the table. Soon more warm chicken soup, as well as bread, was being consumed. Although the Potions Master worked at it, he still needed help to get the soup in without another disaster. The bread was fine.

"I was doing so much better," Snape lamented as the spoon clattered and dropped. At this rate they'd never let him help Harry. They'd just keep him locked up in the tower while the youth got sicker.

"You will do better after you've slept more. Jeffrey and James worked very hard to heal your injuries," Dumbledore said calmly. He picked up the spoon and offered another bite. The washroom door opened and the Healer walked out toweling his hair.

"Well, I no longer smell like the first course," Barnes smirked as he came to the table. He sat next to Snape and snagged a piece of bread from the plate buttering it completely. Dumbledore noticed Snape's eyes never left the bread.

"Severus, why don't you butter your bread?" the Headmaster asked, wondering if Snape realized what was happening. The younger wizard looked slightly confused.

"I, I guess it's just habit," Snape finally managed. His hands fell into his lap and he lowered his head slightly. This defeated motion got Barnes' attention.

"More soup, Severus?" Dumbledore offered the spoon again, but the wizard shook his head slightly. Body language was closing off, Barnes noted. He glanced over at the Headmaster but the older wizard hadn't noticed the subtle changes.

"Come on, child, you haven't had enough," Dumbledore cajoled, holding the spoon out. Snape moved his head slightly to the side, wincing. Another emotional land mine. Snape was ready to be struck across the face (or across the room.) Barnes reached over and gently covered the now clenched hands, warming them slightly.

"Severus? Professor? What are you remembering?" Barnes asked softly.

"My parents. My Mother," Snape responded quietly. Now the Headmaster caught on and set the spoon down, moving closer to his friend.

"I wasn't allowed to take from the dishes, I could only eat what was placed on my plate," he continued nearly too soft to hear. "If I tried to take some butter I was punished," the loathing ripped through his voice, "It's too good for the likes of me."

"Sugar, too?" Dumbledore said in his most unpressing tones.

"Sugar, honey, salt, cream, anything on the table in bowls or dishes," Snape sighed. "Sometimes if I'd been particularly bad I would have to sit and watch them eat. Sometimes." Snape swallowed hard. He hated being sick. He hated being so needy. He hated the memories crowding in on him.

"It was so hard, coming to Hogwarts, getting to choose food. Then going back home for the holidays I'd forget and," the wizard stopped talking.

"And you'd be punished," Barnes finished the sentence. He watched his patient pull in more, willing to disappear. "Severus, it's a hard thing, overcoming all the things you were raised to believe. It becomes habit, and habits are hard to break, harder when you can still hear your mother's voice telling you you're no good. Let's try this," and the Healer brought the butter next to Snape's bread plate.

"I'll put some butter on your plate and you can spread it on your bread. When you're feeling better, we will work on your eating behaviours. Right now, let's just concentrate on finishing dinner," the Healer said as he transferred a generous amount of butter onto Snape's plate.

Snape waited a moment then picked up his knife and smeared butter on his bread. A shuddery sigh. Then he continued to eat. For several minutes it was quiet except for the spoon clinking and the bread being munched.

"Can I take care of Harry after I eat?" Snape asked suddenly.

"Not tonight, Severus. You need to sleep, first. I need to sleep, too," said the Healer.

"But he's dying," Snape said in åa small voice. "He's lying there knowing he's dying."

"He's sick, Severus. Dr. James is taking care of him. He will be fine," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Dad and I scanned him, Severus. We treated his symptoms and he's much better. Harry had ignored being ill for a couple days which made it worse," Barnes said, "but it's under control now."

"You don't understand!" Snape protested, clearly distressed. When I helped test that, that hex," Snape was now trembling, "it was just Algie and me. No other death eaters were assigned He'd, he'd used muggles at first. You know, as test experiments. Proved it worked. I was so disgusted, but he'd already done the preliminaries without our knowledge. I still remember the look on Algie's face when he stood in front of Voldemort crowing about his great accomplishment." Shuddering, Snape took a long sip of juice trying to compose himself. It didn't work.

"No one stood to give a report. Not then. Voldemort dropped him with the cruciatus. When he stopped Voldemort asked about the antidote. The idiot was proud there was none. So Voldemort made me pick up the jewelry. It was a death sentence. He told Algie that if I died, he'd be sure Algie would too." Snape's voice had dropped lower.

"Please, I'd like to help Harry now, because I remember waiting to die. I remember getting sicker and sicker while Algie ran about trying to develop a cure. When he finally came up with the counter-curse the energy it required nearly killed him. You see, the sicker Harry becomes the more energy it will require and if we wait I don't know if I will be able to help him," Snape was shaking, looking at Dumbledore with a quiet despair.

"Severus, you will be able to help Harry when the times comes. You will have Dr. James and Jeffrey with you," Dumbledore replied neutrally. Internally, he was actually having trouble with putting his child in such a precarious situation. Performing the counter-curse on a very ill Snape had nearly killed a healthy wizard. What would it do to his child? Still, there was no choice, Snape would have to perform the counter-curse. Dumbledore just wanted Snape to have one good night's sleep before he was physically wiped out again.

"Tomorrow morning? When I wake up? I'll sleep all night," Snape begged shamelessly. Barnes surreptitiously slipped a hand over his patient's shoulder and drew him close. That Snape fell into the comfort of the embrace without protest told the Healer how vulnerable †he was at that moment.

"Tomorrow morning. After you've slept for me, and after you've eaten. And not before 10 am in any event, because my Father and I need to rest, too," Barnes said, pulling his patient into a full hug. "You were so hurt today, Severus. We've been worried about you. We are here for you, Severus. We will be there with you tomorrow. Harry will be just fine. Trust me," he held Snape for a long moment before releasing him to Dumbledore. The Headmaster gathered his friend up and held him close.

"I don't want you to be hurt. I don't want to lose you again," Dumbledore whispered with a slight hitch in his voice.

"I'm only going to help Harry. I'll be ok, just tired," Snape squirmed a little. It was all too new to him: the love, the protection, so many people wanting to comfort him, the need to help Harry. He began to tremble, emotions rising.

The Headmaster became aware of the change in Snape and realized he needed to back off a little.

"Ok, Severus, let's finish up dessert and then you can get back to bed. It's been a wearing day, to be sure," Dumbledore said as he released Snape. As they ate the lemon poppy seed cake, Barnes mixed up another potion for Snape, pouring it into his tea. Within the half-hour, both Healer and patient were once more curled up in bed asleep.