(A/N: I give you...dum dum dum dum! My longest chapter EVAR! Initially it was going to be two different chapters, but I put my foot down, yes I did, and instead you have one wonderfully long chapter! I expect reviews! For one, they make me smile, and for another, I get to hear exactly what you guys think! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off.)
In the Head of the Snake
Chapter 24: Restless
Ginny Weasley. She was Ginny Weasley. She was not some delinquent student who couldn't put two and two together. She had brains. She could think. But she couldn't think by herself.
She needed him badly tonight. She craved his simple touch to make her head stop spinning. The longing for Harry Potter had rumbled to life inside her suddenly, and she had sat bolt upright in bed. She wanted to run her hand through his hair, grip it tightly, and show his bare neck to her lips. She wanted to dip her fingernails into his fragile skin along his back and leave long gashes down his sides. She wanted him so badly right now that it was painful. Only Harry Potter under her power would take away this wanting!
Which is why, at this very moment, she really needed Professor Snape. She was going to do something especially awful otherwise. But she knew that Professor Snape was not here. She had seen him leave. She had waited, although he had not asked for her to, but she had not seen him return. What time was it in any case?
She flung her legs over the side of her bed and pulled her curtains open roughly. The pang that flew through her brought her to her feet and it took her a moment to stop her body from running into Harry's dorm right that moment.
This is your own damn body for Godrick's sake! Control yourself! Ginny berated herself. Think your own thoughts! Harry. You need to get out of the dorm. Harry. You need to go now! HARRY HARRY HARRY HARRY HARRY!
She was down the stairs that lead to the common room. She had turned herself away from the opposing stairs. She was pushing open the portrait of the fat lady. It shut behind her with a thud.
And she breathed.
The incessant call in her head subsided to a soft whisper at the back of her mind. Harry...it said, but she ignored it. She needed to get away from him right now. She needed Snape. She needed Snape!
Ginny wasn't aware of where her feet were taking her. In the past she had not questioned them. When her head was so full of other thoughts, they had never failed her. It was as if a part of her mind had sunk as low as possible, nestling snugly within her ten toes, so that when she was out of control they could take over. She found herself in front of a blank wall. She blinked.
The Room of Requirement. What would it give her when she couldn't even think straight? For the first time in her life, Ginny did not want to find solace in the room. She wanted physical touch. She wanted to feel someone against her. She wanted – NO! STOP THINKING ABOUT HARRY!
There was only one thing more that she could do...and she actually didn't want to do it. She was using them. Every single boy that she ended up with she was using to get rid of these thoughts and cravings that she had for Harry Potter. Neville may have been the first, but he was by far the last. But there was nothing else she could do now. Her head was pounding somewhere near her temple and her eyes were watering from the constant throb. Her whole body was shaking. She hadn't been this bad in ages. Why was that? When was the last time she had wanted Harry Potter so much? She forced her sluggish brain to work along her memory. Last year. Definitely last year. Harry had disappeared with Cedric Diggory into the Maze during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Then it had started. She had thought it was the silly girl in her coming back to haunt her. She was worried because she couldn't see anything that was going on in the Maze. She wanted Harry to win so badly, but at the same time did not want him getting hurt. And then it had hit her so hard that she had been winded. The longing. She had ended up in the hospital wing for most of the task, only finding out later that Lord Voldemort had returned. If Harry was the Boy Who Lived, then surely Voldemort was the Man Who Would Never Die.
And before that? She made herself remember more. Before the third Task, had she felt like this again? Not like this...there had been a few times that the longing had come up more so than normal, but this was on a whole other level. Think. Further back. Surely it had been worse than this before? What had she done?
First year. Valentines.
No, don't think about that.
Yes, think about it! Don't hide from it! It was what caused this whole thing in the first place! The diary.
Her breath hitched in her throat. No, she couldn't think of it. She couldn't bring herself to face it. It hurt too much. She could feel it tearing at her insides. The pain. The tearing. The utter heartbreak.
And then the love. The forbidden love. Riddle. He had been a diary, as inanimate as the Room of Requirement. But she had been taken in by his words. His understanding.
Further heartbreak.
She needed help. Right now. Her mind was whirling. She had stopped walking. She didn't know where she was. She clutched her hand to her heart, digging her nails into her skin. Something was horribly wrong, but she could do nothing. She knew now. She had last felt like this during her first year. And no good had come of that. Something had to be wrong for her to feel like this again!
Surely Riddle didn't have control over her again?
No, she remembered everything that she had done the past few days. Some things clearly so. She shivered slightly thinking of her lips softly touching Snape's hand. What nerve did she have to do something like that?
It was helping. Thinking of Severus Snape was helping her longing. She stumbled to a stop, finally taking in where she was. The kitchens. They had often been a place of consolation for her. The smells reminded her of the Burrow, and the house-elves never shooed her away. She was welcome there.
She carefully walked towards the painting that guarded the entrance to the kitchens and tickled the pear. It turned into a doorknob and she stepped through, allowing her senses to be engulfed by the kitchen.
Smells and noises and warmth. Yes, it felt like home to her hear in the crowded kitchens.
"Can Dobby help miss?"
She blinked as she looked down at the bobbing elf. Dobby. He was another survivor of her first year. Maybe he could lend a sympathetic ear?
"Hot chocolate, please Dobby," with an image of Severus Snape offering her a biscuit she added, "And some chocolate chip cookies. The one the Potions Master likes."
"Potions Master Sir's elf will help too! Potions Master gone, and Eyrie not happy alone."
Ginny blinked. Professor Snape had his own elf? Who better to talk to about Snape than his own elf, who, probably, wasn't allowed to say nasty things about her master?
She was ushered to a seat and a steaming hot cup was placed before her, filled with creamy hot chocolate. She liked the hot chocolate here best because they used dark chocolate, not like at home where they could only afford the lesser milk chocolate. There had been a few times, though, when her mum had taken out the darker slab and added a few chunks into the mixture for when Ginny couldn't sleep. It had been a while since those days when she had run to her mum. Ever since Hogwarts she had learnt not to talk about her issues to anyone – not even to a diary.
Pop.
She jumped slightly, but smiled warmly as she looked at the little elf before her.
"Miss want chocolate chip cookies like my master's?" asked the elf.
"Yes please," nodded Ginny, and then dared, "I want to think about him."
The elf nodded her head.
"Eyrie understand!" her ears flapped like a bat with no control, "Eyrie like to think about master too! Master is neat and tidy, and has certain places for things. He do not like when Eyrie touch chess board. But he very demanding. He a good master. He likes strong coffee early in the morning, but on his desk. Not allowed in master's personal room. He take out dirty clothes and put in basket and leave basket for Eyrie in bedroom. Eyrie clean bedroom, but not much to do because master do not sleep much." She looked sad as she said the last part. Ginny frowned slightly at the elf. Maybe the elf had made a mistake, but from what the elf had said...she had better make sure.
"You said you weren't allowed in Snape's personal room. But you clean his bedroom. Are they two different places? Maybe you think he isn't sleeping because he sleeps in his personal room instead?"
Eyrie's large forehead creased as she thought about it.
"Maybe Miss right," she nodded eventually, "but Eyrie do not know how to find out. Eyrie not allowed in personal room."
"Is anyone allowed there?"
"Eyrie do not understand Miss."
"Did Professor Snape forbid anyone else from going into his personal room?"
Ginny's heart was beating somewhere in her throat. What was she doing? She was trying to get into Snape's 'personal' room, that was what she was doing. She never knew that teachers had rooms other than their quarters and their office and their classroom. Then again, she hadn't ever been into any teacher's quarters except for her Head of House's and that was only in her first year when she had gone into the wrong dorm room.
"No, Miss. Master only say Eyrie not to go into special room."
"So...if, maybe, I went into the room, I could find out for you if he were sleeping there or not. Because I'm sure you're worried about him if he's not sleeping."
"Eyrie very worried, Miss," the elf nodded her head sadly. "And if Miss goes to personal room, then Eyrie will be very happy. And Miss can go to room because Master never forbid it."
"See? I won't be breaking any rules or going against anything that Sev-Snape said. And I only want the best for him."
Her head had calmed down a bit. The whisper that said Harry was slowly sinking into the back of her mind. But she knew the moment she stepped out of the kitchen and headed back to the dorm that it would start up again. She wanted sleep, but if she went to Madame Pomfrey she knew the old mediwitch would just give her a pepper-up potion and send her on her way. And, a small part of her said, if she went to Snape's personal room, she might be able to think clearer and not have to take any potions at all. Being in his presence always made her head clearer, so maybe being in his room would do the same.
Eyrie bobbed up and down before her.
"Yes, yes, yes, and Miss can tell Eyrie what in the room and then Eyrie can know what to give Master to clean properly. He use the same cleaner on everything and that not good."
Ginny smiled and quickly finished her hot chocolate, grabbing a cookie from the stack that Eyrie had brought with her.
"Then lead the way Eyrie."
The moment she stepped outside the kitchen, the thought in her mind perked up like an animal sniffing the wind. Harry? It questioned. No! Not Harry! Snape! Not Harry? No. Snape.
She pushed the thoughts back, bringing an image of the potions master forwards. He had long greasy hair. She still wanted to do something about that. Maybe while she was in his personal room she could find out what shampoo he used? He had a long hooked nose. His eyes were black and sparkly. She wondered if he ever needed glasses? Maybe reading glasses? She would find out, although she had never seen him reading essays with them. His teeth were slightly yellowing, and she guessed his molars were worn down from grinding them in fury so much in class. They were also slightly unevenly placed, his jaw probably too small because it was pointed. He had angular features, she decided. They were all sharp and pointy, as much as his sarcasm and wit. Wit? Yes, the Potions Master was witty; especially with his sarcasm. Ginny remembered a Muggle saying, "Sarcasm is the highest form of intelligence but the lowest form of wit." Was that really true in the form of Severus Snape? Yes, he was definitely intelligent. But was he really not funny? She didn't think so. Sometimes the Twins found out the ingredients they needed for their jokes much too easily, and she highly suspected the Potions Master. Maybe it was because he didn't want them blowing the whole school up, but either way he was helping them invent.
"We here Miss. Stay quiet!" the elf had been leading Ginny downwards, further into the dungeons than she'd ever been. Before her was a large statue of a woman with snakes in her hair. She recognised it as a Gorgon, although instead of Medusa this statue was labelled "Venus". She had never heard of the Gorgon before, but she supposed it was a famous one as there was also a long pendant around the neck with star-like stones shining in it. The necklace was only given to Gorgons who were acknowledged by Wizards; it allowed them to walk with humans without turning any to stone.
"We has to answer riddle now," said Eyrie, and she stood on tip-toe and tapped the circular pendent. The stars turned from glittering diamonds to a dark ruby. The snakes on Venus' head slithered ominously to life, standing on end and hissing. Venus turned her face to Ginny, her eyes the same colour as the stones around her neck.
"When one cannot trust oneself, who does one trust?"
Ginny blinked. This sounded like the questions you had to ask to get into Ravenclaw tower. She knew because she had to sneak in there a few times to meet with Michael. But the Ravenclaw questions were all about logical thinking. This was Slytherin. She had to think like one. Normally she would have answered "my friends," but did Slytherin even have friends?
"You trust no one," she answered.
The snake-headed woman looked at her hard and her eyes slowly changed to green. Ginny watched in fascination as the rubies changed as well. A snake slithered onto the wall and arched around gracefully, leaving the grooves of a door behind. It finally fell still in the position that a handle would normally have been.
She had answered right; she had access to Snape's quarters.
Carefully she gripped the stone handle and pushed open the door. Before her was a still room. Eyrie walked confidently inside, Ginny stepping carefully after her. The door closed behind them with a dull thunk, and Ginny jumped slightly. Never had she felt so much adrenaline. If she was caught here, she would never live to see another day. She would probably be done in on the spot and her body left here in the dungeons for the sewer rats to nibble on.
"This is it here, Miss," Eyrie was pointing to a blank wall. Ginny carefully stepped forwards. The wall looked innocent enough. There was no statue or lever to trigger a doorway though. How was she going to get through? She asked Eyrie, but the elf's ears drooped.
"Master never tell Eyrie because Master don't want Eyrie in room. Eyrie cannot appear in Master's room because Eyrie has not got permission to enter."
Ginny bit her bottom lip in frustration. She had come all this way though, so there was no way she was going to give up now. She stepped towards the wall and stared hard at it.
When she had been taught by Lupin, and she had touched him, she had known instinctively what he was. When Moody had grabbed her arm when one of her spells had gone awry, she had felt something in him that told her that he wasn't who he said. She had a weird power. She had something in her that let her know about dark magic and dark creatures. She knew it. So now she could use it. Right?
She put her finger to the wall. It was cold to her touch. But she could feel something else. She could feel the touch of magic on it as well. She remembered the one class they had had in transfiguration, in which they had been transforming birds into hangers. She had asked McGonagall if the birds would be alright once they had been transfigured back. McGonagall had told her that they would be fine physically, but that there was always a trace of magic left over once it had been done on something. It wore off after time depending on how strong the magic was, and how much the wizard tried to hide its effects afterwards.
So if Severus Snape, or someone equally powerful, had done the magic to make the way to the personal room, then the magic should be pretty easy to follow. She somehow doubted that the wizard – or witch – who had done the magic had been particularly worried about a student following the magic.
Her finger felt for the beginning of the magic. She followed the tendril of warmth that flowed through the stonework. There! She had found the beginning! Now she just had to follow it through to the end. Do what the magic told her to do.
Her hand ended up making a large arch over her head. The wall melted down, her eyes wide in amazement. She had done it!
"Oh well done Miss!" squealed Eyrie behind her. Ginny smiled in thanks.
"I may be a while, Eyrie. I'm sorry. I won't move anything or mess anything up. How's about tomorrow I come to the kitchens for breakfast and then you can serve me while I tell you what I've seen?"
Eyrie's eyes glistened with sudden tears and she lunged at Ginny with her tiny arms, hugging her tightly by her midriff.
"Miss is too good to Eyrie! All Eyrie wants to do is make sure Master has all he wants and Miss helps Eyrie! Miss helps Eyrie!"
Ginny gently patted Eyrie on her back until Eyrie let go and pushed Ginny through the doorway she had just found. The doorway slowly melted back together, Eyrie's large eyes the last thing that Ginny saw before she turned forwards again.
Alright, she was nearly there now. Already her head was clearing more and more. She didn't know if it was because she was near Severus Snape's personal room, or if it was just her own adrenaline pouring through her every fibre. But she didn't want it to stop.
She was in a tunnel, lit with dim green lights. It was eerily pretty, she thought, but knew in other circumstances she would see it as scary. She followed the stone stairwell upwards. It twisted slightly, but never veered in any one direction. It was almost as if she were climbing up a tower; a hidden tower within Hogwarts that no one had seen or heard of.
She came to a door. It was wooden and curved at the top. Small vines were carved into its edges and the brass doorknob was a petal. The door was unlocked. Ginny carefully let herself in, noticing that the door did not squeak, but rather gave a low drone.
It was a circular room, hardly littered with furniture. To her right there were two comfy chairs, sharing a small table between them. A thin mat lay on the ground to cushion the sitters' feet from the cold stone floor. A bed, its headboard pushed up against the wall and curved to fit, stood proud but dark. A bed light hung down over the cushions in a long arch that could obviously be moved downwards for the reader or to the side for sleep. A bedside table showed a small pile of daily prophets and a well-worn book. At the bottom of the bed was a dark chest, its top covered in a green velvet cushion so one could sit on it. Ginny noticed that the whole room was done in a deep green and dark brown, except for the bed which was black. She almost felt as if she were in a forest.
Directly to her left, fitting snugly against the wall, was a large bookshelf that towered upwards to touch the roof. It had grooves around the edges. Carefully, Ginny stepped into the room towards the centre of the shelf. There were two oddly shaped knobs in the middle of the shelf. She touched the one and had to step back quickly as it reacted and a part of the shelf swung open to reveal more shelves on the back of that which had just opened. It was a shelf within a shelf! Not wanting to disturb the books (after studying in the library, one learnt that books could bite! And do other nasty things too.) she closed the shelf to its normal state.
She moved on around the room, following its circular shape. Next to the bookshelf was a long worktable, a hard wooden with a soft cushion pushed in. Above the table were shelves with various books and piles of rolled up parchments organised on it in some sort of order. There were also a few ornaments that she stopped to look at, but she didn't touch any. She frowned at some empty picture frames standing in a partitioning. Why keep the frames empty? She reached her hand out towards them but paused. This was personal, even if the frames were empty. She wasn't here to snoop – not too much at least. The next item in the room was a cabinet filled with vials of non-identifiable liquids. Something grossly slimy was swimming around in one tube while another cylinder was filled with tiny eyes that stared at her despite being amputated from their bodies. She closed that cupboard too, not wanting to get involved with any of the ingredients. A work table joined directly onto the cabinet, cauldrons and stands of various sizes carefully stacked underneath it. This was where Snape must do his personal brewing, Ginny decided.
She couldn't help opening the next cupboard she came to. This was Snape's Clothing Cupboard. The left side was completely taken up by black cloaks and wizard's robes. But the right made Ginny's eyes lift. So he did wear things other than black! A dark red cape hung limply next to its black robe that had red cuffs and collar. Next to that ensemble was one almost exactly the same but in a midnight blue. Why did he never wear them? They looked like quite handsome robes to her – even in fashion. Then again, Ginny wondered if Severus Snape ever had the opportunity to wear anything else other than work clothes. There were shoes at the bottom of the cupboard; dragonhide boots looked the most worn out of them all. She raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise as she saw a pair of shiny formal shoes. They looked almost brand new, maybe never even worn yet.
Moving on, Ginny froze as she detected movement. But then she laughed out loud; she had come to a tall mirror framed in a dark wood. The mirror swivelled both from side to side and backwards and forwards. Ginny couldn't imagine the dark Potions Master looking at himself in the mirror ever, but having it in the room gave her hope that he still cared for his physical wellbeing.
There was an opening into another room then, the entrance covered by many hanging green beads of azurite. They tinkled as she walked through them. Ginny was now standing in a bathroom, tiled in a light green and beige. A medical cabinet stood to her side and a basin with a mirror in front of her. She looked through the medical cabinet, smelling Snape's shaving foam, his deodorant, his toothpaste – pretty much anything that she could get her hands on. She moved further into the bathroom and saw a large tub standing on curved green legs. It was white and clean. On its edge was a wash-cloth as well as a tall bottle that held thick goo. Ginny couldn't help but smile; Snape liked bubble baths! In the corner was a triangular shower with four shower heads pointing towards the middle of the area. Ginny wondered if Snape stood there being pelted by water from all sides. She sometimes did that. She put the water on as hard as she could, sometimes as hot as she could stand it too, and just let the water fill her ears with its roaring and feel it cleanse her. Baths were great if you just wanted to relax, but if you really needed to be clean, then a shower was your only answer. Along the wall she noticed two towel hooks hanging over a big woven basket. She lifted the lid and saw dirty laundry. This must be the basket the Eyrie had given to Snape so that he could put his dirty clothes and sheets in it to give to her. Turning, she saw another chest, except this one was a bit taller and not as broad as the one lining the foot of Severus Snape's bed. She opened it too and was surprised to find cleaners and a collapsible broom. Snape cleaned his own room. And probably made his own bed. Not like the rotten students who had everything done by the house elves. She made her way out of the bathroom and found herself next to the bed.
It was black. Out of everything in the room, it was the only thing devoid of colour. But in a way that suited it. This was where the great git slept. This was where he dreamt and had nightmares. This was where all his walls came down. And when that happened, this bed mirrored whatever was inside of Professor Snape. The blackness, the solitude...the lonliness.
But the best part about black was that it swallowed you up whole. You lay on it and immediately it felt like night around you. Like there was nothing else there. Like you didn't have to worry about being alone because there was no one else to be with in any case.
Ginny didn't know when she got onto the bed. She didn't know when she crawled under the heavy duvet. She didn't know when she snuggled into the pillow. She didn't know when she fell asleep.
. . .
Snape was in a bed. His head was spinning slightly, but he forced himself to sit up. Where was he? The room was much too bright for him, the large windows that covered a third of the room drawn open to let in the glaring sunlight. It was morning. His brain was acting slow. He hated it when it took him time to think! He was not a morning person. Without a shower and his coffee he could barely function. Tea was good too, but it never felt like a good enough kick in the mornings.
"I see you are awake," he blinked towards the voice, sleep lining his eyes. It was a woman with long blonde hair and a pointed face.
"Good morning to you too, Narcissa."
A tight smile curved her lips; she never could hide when she was pleased.
"I take it you would like the usual for breakfast?" she enquired, the perfect host.
"As strong as you can get it."
"Be careful what you wish for, Severus. I have found some delectable beans in a recent trip south, and having my coffee weak is the only way I can take the bitterness."
"It is nice to hear of something more bitter than I am," smirked Snape and Narcissa's smile stretched to include the other half of her face. She looked almost pretty to Severus. Almost.
"Oh come now, Severus. No one as young as you should be so bitter."
"On the contrary, I am thirty six. That is six years over young, and into old."
She raised a delicate eyebrow.
"Are you implying that I am old?"
Snape laughed, hiding how forced it was behind a yawn that he covered with his hand.
"I would never dream of saying that you, Narcissa, are old! Your beauty far outweighs your years, and, might I be bold enough to say, will continue to do so for many more years."
He was pleased by the blush that travelled up her neck. With colour in her cheeks she appeared younger than the forty one years she actually was. Being dour was really not her thing. He remembered being a first year and Narcissa had to give them the tour of the common room and the castle. He had been stunned by her grace and her smile. She was upperclass, beyond anyone's reach but Lucius Malfoy's.
"As always your words contradict your appearance, Severus. One would think you were beyond flattery, and yet there you sit."
Severus looked down into his lap, feigning embarrassment. Eventually he looked up.
"Yes, here I sit. Where exactly do I sit?"
"You are in one of our spare wings at the Manor. Do you not remember?"
She looked worried – Severus could always tell by the way the side of her cheek would sink inwards slightly as she bit down on it, and she would not make eye contact but stare at a spot on his forehead. When he had first noticed, years ago now, he had thought there was something on his head and had excused himself to the bathroom. But there had been nothing on his head, and nor was his appearance in any way beneath the level Narcissa expected of her guests. And then he had watched her more closely and found her weak spot when lying. He could read her well after all this time.
"Why so concerned, Mrs Malfoy?" he asked while his brain thought quickly. What had happened? How had he ended up here?
"Let me bring you your coffee. I'm sure you'll be more awake then." She left the room and Severus was alone.
He looked about himself now. What was he wearing? Gold silk pyjamas? How did he get into them? Wait, how did he get here? What was the last thing he remembered?
His mind offered him flashes that streamed through his head, one vivid memory after the other: the tunnel into the court room in the Ministry; the spinning doors in the entrance chamber to the Department of Mysteries; the various rooms with their complexities; the size and length and width and contents all bashed through his mind in a jumble; the Love Cavern; the Death Chamber; the Hall of Prophecies and then...then what? He had put his hand to his Dark Mark, the Dark Lord summoning him after his three hours were up. How had the Dark Lord gotten through the barriers to allow him to disapparate while within its walls? Ah, but it hadn't worked right, did it? No. He had been splinched.
Thinking of it, he pulled the bed covers off of him and pulled his leg up with his hands to look at the damage. It felt alright at the moment. Actually, there was a certain numbness about it that was quite pleasant. He was about to pull the pyjama pants up when Narcissa returned, levitating a tray behind her.
"I would not do that if I were you," and she wrinkled her nose slightly. "The balm we had to put on your wound is not the best smelling. Your pants are the only thing we could connect the Air Restraint Charm to. Have your coffee first, then you can see to your wounds."
Severus obeyed, although he really did not care for smells. After some of the potions that he had to brew, there was hardly anything that could make him gag. He settled himself back down on the bed and pulled the sheet over his legs. The tray rested on the side table and he gratefully took the black coffee. No milk. No sugar. Just the way he liked it.
"So I take it you have remembered your little adventure?" enquired Narcissa.
"It appears I have. How is Rookwood? I daresay he can't be worse off than I am?"
Narcissa once more sucked in her cheek. She was going to lye to him now, or at least give him a partial truth.
"The Dark Lord has not let him leave the Mansion, not until you and he have completed your mission. He awaits my call as to when you are ready for him."
Severus spread his arms wide, indicating that he had nothing better to do, and said, "What the Dark Lord requires of me I can do right where I am. I would be grateful for you to inform our great Lord that I am ready for the next stage of my task as soon as he needs me to proceed."
Narcissa smiled honestly now. The Dark Lord was obviously impatient with the set back of Severus' injury.
"I will have a house elf help you into robes. You must move as little as possible, but I suspect you will have your own potions that you want to take for your wound. I will inform our Lord shortly, so please do be prepared."
"Do not fear, Mrs Malfoy. I will be my usual dashing self," he smirked and her smile reappeared with a slight shake of the head.
As she left the room, Severus sighed and flipped the sheet off of himself once more. He pulled his leg upwards and with a slight breath lifted the pyjama pants. They were wide and easily slipped up over his knee. He looked on in wide eyes at the lack of leg before him. His leg was there, yes. But just barely. He had splinched off his entire calf. He couldn't make out the proper damage though because a thick bandage drenched in a balm was wrapped around his whole lower leg. With short breaths he began to undo the bandage. As he lifted off the balm, the numbness slowly disappeared and was replaced by a dull throbbing pain. With each breath he felt his leg beat with blood.
The bandage was off. Severus mouth twisted in disgust and humiliation at his own deteriorated form. It was made even worse by the bubbling of his own flesh as it knit itself back together and reformed, slowly replacing his calf muscle and leaving behind a pink scar. He wondered who had given him the Muscle and Tendon Replacement Potion – of all the potions that could make him gag it was that one. The only issue, and here he frowned, was that although the potion helped put back muscles and tendons, it did little about ligaments. They were an issue if ever he had found one; ligaments did not grow or heal. You got one and then if it snapped or was destroyed, you had to have an implant. The implantation process was not a nice one either. First of all they had to duplicate one other tendon, then transfigure it to fit the damaged body part, and then they had to insert it into the body and attach it in the right place. The whole thing was off putting. He would much rather just develop his muscles to take over the stupid flesh's point in the first place.
But this was not so good. The knee had four main ligaments...and at least two of them, from what he could see, had been removed from their proper positions. Maybe he didn't have to have the implantation process, but he did need to have them reattached.
An elf popped into existence carrying, Severus was grateful to see, a bowl of the foul smelling balm and new bandages as well as plain black robes. He noticed they were not his and were new. His old ones were probably soaked in blood and Narcissa had taken it upon herself to replace them. He sighed at the charity. Really he hated pity, but he would accept it from Narcissa to stay in her good books.
He struggled to get the robes on and eventually the elf forced him into allowing himself to be levitated and then for the robes to be magicked onto him. House-elves could really be pushy sometimes when they had a job to do, and Snape knew when to back down. He was settled back onto the bed, now with clean sheets on it, and took to spreading the balm over the new bandage and then wrapping up his leg. He placed the Charm that Narcissa had mentioned over his robes and the smell of the balm slowly disappeared. Not moment later the door opened.
Snape felt the chill run up his back before the Dark Lord even stepped into the room. He hastily pulled the sheets off of himself and tried to move so that he could kneel, but he found himself forcibly frozen.
"Severus, do not be thick headed," whispered the cold voice, "you are injured. Please stay where you are."
Severus had very little choice. He was frozen in place, his hand still gripping the sheet and in mid push with his other.
"Ah! Rookwood, I am glad you could join us!" Voldemort's eyes blazed a slightly darker red as Rookwood stepped into the room. From what Snape could see from his position on the bed was that Rookwood was perfectly fine. Why had Severus not been brought back safely?
"My Lord," Rookwood bowed deeply.
Voldemort tapped his wand and two chairs appeared beside the bed. In another tap Severus felt himself released from Voldemort's spell. He was shaking slightly as he slumped downwards but quickly righted himself and smoothed down the sheets.
"Forgive me my rudeness, my Lord," Snape looked down at the sheet, his composure one of disappointment.
"Ah, my loyal servant," cooed the Dark Lord in a hiss, "you are always so eager to please. I will allow the usual formalities on your part to be reduced, temporarily."
"My Lord," and Snape bowed his head lower in submission, "I thank you for your generous understanding. I will repay your kindness."
"You can repay me that kindness now," hissed the Dark Lord quietly and Snape quickly looked up. "When I apparated you and Rookwood from the Department of Mysteries, I encountered no resistance from Rookwood, however I had to fight for you. Why did you not follow my call?"
Snape blinked in honest confusion.
"My Lord, I did no such thing. My only thought is that the Department was holding onto me, not I onto it."
The Dark Lord's red eyes never left his own, which were wide in surprise.
"Why would the Department hold onto you?" asked the Dark Lord slowly. Snape could see Rookwood desperately trying to hold onto his facial features as he watched the conversation unravel before him. Snape could not tell if he was happy about it, or genuinely disgusted.
"My Lord, perhaps if I told you the tale of our mission while I drew out the map, our questions will be answered?"
The Dark Lord eyed Severus carefully, before nodding his head a fraction of an inch. Parchment appeared as well as a quill with ink and it settled itself carefully down on his lap. With a breath, Severus picked up the quill, dipped it, and then began to tell the Dark Lord the contents of their mission, the whole time drawing out the map of the Department of Mysteries.
. . .
Ginny awoke slowly and stretched. For a moment she was in the blissful void between dream and sleep. And then she blinked her eyes and realised where she was.
With a quick shriek she had jumped to her feet, wand in hand, twirling about the room in sudden fear.
But there was no one else in the room. She was alone. She didn't like it.
Shaking her head, Ginny jumped over the bed and ran to the door, closing it carefully behind her. She rushed down the green tunnel, threw her arm in an arch over the entrance and then carefully sneaked out of Professor Snape's quarters.
Back in her own room, she let out a sigh and then proceeded to get clean clothes and head to the showers. She was surprised that her head was so clear, but she doubted it would last long.
With the water pummelling down on her, she finally thought about what she had done last night. She had slept in Severs Snape's bed. He would never know, but she would. Would that make a difference the next time she saw him? Surely she would be embarrassed?
Her thoughts continued as she made her way down to the great hall, only to stop herself suddenly. She had promised to take breakfast in the kitchen with Eyrie to tell her what she had seen. Sighing, Ginny turned her back on the raucous hall and instead headed to the kitchens.
Eyrie was waiting for her and Ginny was touched to see one of her favourite breakfasts set out on the table. She sat down and began gulping down her food; never get between a Weasley and their food! In between mouthfuls, she slowly pieced together what she had seen of Snape's room. She realised she had not looked in the chest at the foot of the bed, and nor had she paid any attention to the open space between the chest and the walls. The floor space had appeared empty to her, but she may be wrong.
"And did Miss clean the bed after?" enquired Eyrie after Ginny's explanation.
She froze. No, she hadn't. She had completely forgotten the reason why she had been allowed to go into Snape's personal room in the first place; because house-elves weren't allowed there!
"No," Ginny said honestly, "but that is because I'm not quite finished there yet. I'm planning on going back soon today. After all, it is a weekend and I need a quiet place to do my homework," and in her head she added and be away from Harry. Harry. Harry.
She shook her head. Maybe spending some time in Professor Snape's personal room wouldn't be such a bad thing at all. Maybe it was just all of the protective spells about the place, but her head felt much better up in the Hidden Tower.
Eyrie nodded her head.
"Miss is very good. Look after my Master when Eyrie can't."
Ginny smiled sadly, knowing that Severus Snape was the last person on her mind.
. . .
"So you see, My Lord, that is the Department of Mysteries," Snape handed the parchment to the Dark Lord, whose eyes travelled every inch of the map that Severus had drawn. It had taken him a few tries to get the pieces to fit together, but his proportions were perfect and his detail was immaculate. That, in addition to the memories Voldemort had seen through his mind, allowed the Dark Lord to look marginally pleased. But there was still something amiss. And both knew it. Rookwood sat silent, barely adding a word throughout the meeting, although his eyes glared at the easy way Severus communicated with their Lord.
"I am pleased, my Spy. You have done well. But we still have the issue..."and his voice went deadly quiet, forcing Snape to edge closer to the beast, "of your departure."
There was silence for a few moments. Severus wanted to speak, but knew better than to interrupt the Dark Lord in mid thought.
"Perhaps," said Voldemort after a moment's thought, "this Love Cavern," he spat the words, "has more to it than we think?"
"The Love Cavern, my Lord? It is merely a room filled with, well, love," his voice was high with disbelief and unconcern.
"Your pet Dumbledore," said Voldemort, "would think otherwise, my Spy."
Snape scoffed and his mouthed curved into an amused smile.
"I'm sure he would, my Lord, and most likely look over every other room and its possibilities while he was at it."
The Dark Lord's teeth showed. It was that grin that he used when he was pleased with Severus. Snape allowed himself to smile broader.
"Ah, yes. I always love hearing your true thoughts on your other master. It reminds me of your loyalties. He is a fool. We have full agreement on that."
"Always, my Lord," bowed Snape at the waist.
"Do you think the Department still has a hold on you?"
Severus frowned. It was a good enough question.
"Give me a moment, my Lord," he lowered his eyes and let his power edge slowly out in tendrils, not very different from how he had done so in the Department of Mysteries. He felt the magic about him. It was all his...but a part of it was different. No, not different, just stronger. He pulled his magic back within himself.
"All my magic is my own, my Lord. I am not tainted by the Department."
"Good," Voldemort could see no lie in his words, for truly there was no falsehood to Snape. The magic was his own, and although the Department had changed him in a subtle way, it was in no way a taint in his eyes. It was a blessing. He was blessed by both the Dead and by the Loved. "You will be able to return to the castle later on this evening. I believe your wound," his lip curled up in distaste, "will be healed by then. I understand you may need an implantation. I will send our mediwitch merely to help with the process as I am sure you will want to take over."
Snape showed no emotion. The process would be absolute torture if he was awake, but he very much doubted if the "help" was any help at all. He would have to do it himself, otherwise run the risk of inheriting Mad-Eye Moody's wooden claw.
"Thank you, My Lord," was all he could manage before Voldemort stood, Rookwood scrabbling up quickly afterwards, and walking out the room.
Severus breathed in the silence. But he could not relax now; he needed to prepare.
Luckily for Severus, Narcissa Malfoy was all for his safe recovery. She followed his every word. When he had packed his satchel that Thursday night (was it really only a few days ago?) he had felt his potions would only be a backup plan and that his wand was good enough, but now he realised the foolishness of that thought and was grateful for the hearty inventory that Malfoy Manor always held.
The pain relief potion was the first thing that he brewed. It was difficult, cutting his ingredients on his lap and sitting sideways to stir and watch his cauldron, but he would rather trust himself to make the potion proper rather than someone else. He had also adapted it so that the potion would concentrate itself on his leg because the normal potion would make his fingers thick and movement would be difficult. Snape cursed the Dark Lord thoroughly in his mind as the potion came to its climax. It was good he was so good at potions really. Even though he loved the Dark Arts, potions had put some of his other attributes to work and as such he had adapted to be patient, to notice the small things, and to appreciate the more subtle reactions to certain ingredients. Of course, he was referring to different kinds of ingredients and different kinds of reactions than those one would see in potions. It was like watching Rookwood sit in the same room as he and the Dark Lord. When the Dark Lord was happy with Snape, Rookwood made very little motions, but as soon as the Dark Lord appeared to want to punish Snape, then Rookwood struggled to keep a straight face. Snape realised now the reason for this odd behaviour; Rookwood did not care much for the attentions of the Dark Lord, however he cared for power, and as soon as it looked as if Snape's position with the Dark Lord was falling, Rookwood would want to step in.
Did the Dark Lord see that too? Did he recognise Rookwood's true intent? Most likely; the man was a horrible liar. He smirked. So was he, if truth be told. The whole point was not to deceive oneself, then one could get away with murder. Literally. He frowned at his own thinking. It was not a good thing to be proud of, but he was a good Spy. He should at least give himself a bit of credit.
The potion gave a puff of pure white smoke that had no smell. The potion was ready. He quickly stopped the blaze underneath the cauldron and moved it to cool. That was all he could do on such short notice. He felt his leg throb a bit, but knew better than to concentrate on it. It was almost the same size as the other leg, but the new skin was pink and tender. It would harden into scar-like tissue. There was little that could be done about that. It would look like a pale birthmark if he was honest with himself, and that didn't bother him.
He picked up the Healing book that Narcissa had brought him on his request and looked over the procedure again. He had practiced the fastening charm on a few items with the right density and was pleased that he had gotten it quite well. He was not too keen on the incisions he would have to make, but he could live with that. The rehabilitation might take a few days though. He would have to make a few strengthening potions for himself to get through the next week. He groaned; he had Occlumensy lessons with both his students first thing in the week! He'd have to double his dosage.
Narcissa walked in, followed by a short witch with her hair in a horrendously tight bun. The witch looked no older than twenty. She had most likely never done a proper operation in her life.
"Severus, this is the witch offered to us by St Mungoes. I would introduce you, but names have been prohibited."
Severus nodded his understanding. He looked harder at the girl, there was something oddly off about her. He noticed it now; she was under a glamour of some sort. She must want further education in healing, but her current situation was not allowing for it, and as such she was taking under-the-radar jobs. He was not surprised, but instead began giving out instructions.
The silly dimwit got half of the instructions wrong, and forgot the other half. He took a steadying breath and shifted into teacher mode. He would have to do this slowly.
His wand was now in his hand, carefully directing a silver knife over his bare leg. He was pleased with how well the muscles and tendons had healed, but after a few diagnostic spells had discovered that the one ligament had definitely been removed in the splinch. The bone had grown back perfectly, but now was the tricky part.
He watched in fascination as the knife gently slithered into his flesh, cutting through it as if through melting butter, while he felt absolutely nothing. His potion had worked beautifully, relieving his entire leg of all feeling from his toes to his hip. The blood automatically bubbled upwards, but the mediwitch dutifully drained it away. He was grateful for the blood replenishment potion he had packed as he felt himself blink back black spots. The knife reached the point he had marked with his wand, and stopped. He transfigured it to prongs which then kept the skin apart. He could clearly see the loose ligament through the floating mirror he had placed earlier. He wondered momentarily how the muggle Dentists managed to work with mirrors all the time, because he was having to think carefully before making any movements. But then he began the fixing charm. The two ends were cleaned, they were scraped and then they were fixed down onto each other with a sweep of Snape's wand. The clamp was released and fell on the cover which had been placed over the bed. He leaned back heavily, panting for breath. The mediwitch, following her strict instructions, helped him drink the blood replenishment potion and then dropped a sizzling hot liquid onto the cut that the clamps had left. It smelt of burning flesh, but it bubbled up to the surface and healed over in a few moments.
Snape was pale with exhaustion, but was pleased with his performance. He had managed to perform the whole process without a proper mediwitch, completely awake, and without uttering a single cry. Alright, maybe the Dark Lord would not be pleased that he had used a potion, but he had never said otherwise. He would just have to punish Snape better next time for inconveniencing him like that.
The mediwitch left after doing some simple diagnostic spells and affirming that the leg was healing nicely. She also (the cheek of it,) recommended to Snape not to put too much pressure on the leg for the next few days and to be careful bending it too much too soon. As if he didn't know that already!
Narcissa had the house-elves clean the room and burn the blood-smeared cover.
He dosed for an hour. He only had to leave later this evening in any case. He would be happy to return to Hogwarts, and even happier to sleep in his own bed.
. . .
Ginny had not returned to Snape's personal room until much later that day. She had put it off and put it off as long as she could until she had spotted her own clean dorm and the guilt had become too much for her. She knew he wasn't back yet. He had said he'd probably be away the whole weekend! But she couldn't help feeling bad about leaving the place the way she had.
Frowning, she decided she might as well make her way there before bed time. She had eaten heartily in the great hall and slipped out quickly before the others. It was a Saturday night, and very few people went to bed early. She encountered no one on her way to the Potions Master's rooms. The Gorgon, Venus, slithered to life after she pressed the pendant around her neck.
"Who is the love of thy life," Venus asked.
Ginny stared hard. Remembering that she had to be answering as if she were a Slytherin, she said, "I love me."
Once more the eyes turned green and the snake slithered across the wall, bringing forth Severus Snape's quarters. She walked carefully through them, not wanting to leave even her footprints behind for Professor Snape to find.
She arched her hand over the wall where it melted away, giving rise to the ascending green tunnel. She followed it upwards and carefully opened the door into Snape's secret room.
There was no one there. She breathed a sigh of relief. She walked slowly into the room and retraced her steps of the night before. She had touched the shelf, but it looked the same as before. She had decided against the photo frames, so the work table was ok. The cabinet with all of its creepy contents was safe – she wouldn't touch that with a ten foot broomstick! The cupboard...she paused. She had looked through that, but had she left anything behind? She didn't think so. And so she carried on, through to the bathroom. Here she had meddled quite a bit. She opened the medical cabinet and looked at its contents. Surely she put things back where and how they were? She tried to remember. She had smelt this first, yes, she remembered it, and then put it back over, oh, wait, she had put it back in the wrong place! Only after moving some of the items had she realised she must put it back just like it had been. So then, she bit her lip. This bottle, with the funny writing, had to go in the top corner. And this one had to go next to the tooth paste. That was right? Yes. It looked about right. But now this one...where did this one go?
Ginny was too busy looking at the tube of scar repellent that she didn't notice the bottle with the funny writing was sitting horribly skew on the shelf. It took a moment, but in that moment Ginny looked up, her mouth in a small "o" of surprise, as the bottle fell. She lunged for it, clumsily grabbing it from the air, but popping the cap of the bottle off in the process. The contents squirted over her face and into her still open mouth.
Spluttering at the disgusting flavour, she used her wand to scourgify the remaining contents of the bottle that was now on the floor. She put back the bottle, this time sure that everything was right, before quickly using the sink to wash off her face. She tried to wash out her mouth, but the flavour wouldn't disappear.
Sighing in defeat, she stepped out of the bathroom, hands on her hips. She looked about the room; she had not missed anything. All that was left was to make the bed and then scramble back to her own.
It was at about this point that Ginny started to feel slightly unwell. She was dizzy. She took a few steps, but that just made it worse. Her sluggish brain tried to think what was wrong, and all that came to mind was the bottle. She hadn't drunk any of the stuff! But maybe she had been contaminated by it none-the-less? She remembered something Snape had said to them once; potions don't have to always be ingested through the stomach. They could also go through shin. Shin? She didn't mean shin. She meant skin. And she had really nice skin didn't she?
A part of Ginny realised she was delusional. But another part of her just giggled at that. With a loud thunk, Ginny tripped over the bed and landed face down. She giggled at that too. She was just restless, that was all! She just needed to sleep, right? And then her eyes rolled in her skull and all was dark.
. . .
The moment Snape stepped towards his quarters, Venus came to life.
"How are you?" he asked politely. She was the guardian of his door and would never let in anyone with bad intentions.
"Oh, you know," she replied while a snake slithered around her neck, "the usual; stone hard and cold."
He sneered. Only Dumbledore could have given him a statue with as much humour as Venus.
"Any trouble while I was away? I know the first years don't always have smooth weekends, and I'm sure the fifth years are starting to think about OWLS."
"Hmm, yes. There were a few firsties, but I sent them on their way – to Pomfrey don't you scowl at me! Remember, I'm the one who has looks that can kill," and she flicked a snake out of her eyes.
"Anything else?" he enquired, not really waiting for an answer.
"Yes, actually. A red head came by twice. I let her in."
Snape spluttered.
"You did what?"
"Well she answered all my questions right, although I could tell her true answers. For If you cannot trust yourself, who do you trust? I could see the answer glaring out through her eyes. Friends. And then for Who is the love of thy life, now that one I was quite surprised about, I could see her real answer wa-"
"I really don't need to know that, Venus!" snapped Snape. Venus just shrugged her stone shoulders. "Suite yourself," and Snape stormed into his quarters.
But everything looked normal. Nothing was out of place. An emotion gripped him then and made his stomach drop, his heart somewhere with it. He strode in two steps to his wall and swept his arm over his head in an arch. There was no way though...she would not know. She could not know!
He hurtled up the stairs, grabbed the petal-shaped doorknob and threw the door open. He stood breathing hard for a few seconds, his eyes taking everything in. He felt his leg twinge in pain – so much for resting and not taking stairs too quickly. But all looked – oh.
His brow furrowed in anger. He was boiling over. This was his special room! This was his personal place! He was safe here! Here was his SANCTUARY!
He was roaring something, but he couldn't tell what. He had yanked the blanket from under her, his breath was coming in hard lungful gasps, his anger was making his whole body shake!
But then he stopped. Something was wrong...she hadn't woken up.
"Ginny?" he was surprised by the concern in his own voice and how soft it was all of a sudden. He wanted her to very much jump up and yell "I gotcha!" but she didn't make a move. He felt her pulse along her wrist. It was slow but constant. He used a diagnostic spell to see her status, and she was fine. She was just in a deep sleep. How had that happened?
He looked quickly to his supplies cabinet, but it had been untouched. The only other place he could look to was his medical cabinet. But what could make her sleep like that? He opened the cabinet and started taking out all of the items in a rush. If she needed a counter-potion he'd have to do it quickly. His hand hit a bottle with slanted writing on it and he pulled it down. This could have done it! But...oh shit.
He hated swearing, but it looked like he was doing it more and more often. The bottle was half empty. Surely she couldn't have taken it all? Something must have happened and some had gotten into her system.
He put his hand over his eyes and rubbed at his temples. This was not going to be a fun night. The bottle held a concoction opposite to dreamless sleep; it forced people to dream.
And knowing Ginny Weasley, these were not going to be idle dreams. Looks like he was in for a restless night.
(A/N: I had an aweful lot of fun writing this chapter! Just a quick word, if there are any medical readers out there, I did look up a bit about ligaments and tendons and whatnot, and found that if a ligament snaps it really canNOT grow back by itself and has to be repaired using various operations. And those wondering how Sev can run up stairs after his leg has been cut off and put back together, I can only say: Hey, it's magic! Looking forward to hearing from you! WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off!)