BitterSweet, Chapter 26
Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling therefore do not own any of the characters, etc.
Severus Snape's POV:
It seems such an impossibility, yet the feeling, the haunting feeling that my blood is constantly pouring out of my body, the life seeping out- a thought, a strand of emotion that was unidentified and unchecked until now – makes perfect sense.
"What do you suppose I do, then, Madame Pomfrey?" I ask gently. She clicks her tongue; an obvious habit.
"I will have to run a few complex tests on you Mister Snape and inform the Headmaster – to think that a student used such evil within Hogwarts!" She exclaims, setting the blood-soaked bandages alight in a metal bowl with all but a murmur, as she obtains new ones...
"What you will have to do, however, is rest. We need to move as swiftly as possible to coddle the infection. Indeed, I think I ought to locate it now. Demonstrami tutto" Madam Pomfrey chants. She taps the tip of her wand on the centre of my bloody wound. The wound darkens into a most unfathomable black, and with curiosity I watch little black dots appear underneath my skin, perfectly visible due to my near-translucency.
"Merlin!" Madam Pomfrey swears. My eyes snap from following a curious trail of black dots down my forearm to Madam Pomfrey's face.
"Madam?" I query. Her face is one of almost awe.
"Sorry dear, I didn't mean to startle you. Mister Snape; I have only worked this spell twice in my life, but it doesn't fail to astonish me each time. The dark magic is imbedding itself in your tissue; thankfully it would seem that he curse was, for the Dark Arts, relatively weak. Its hold is not strong, but enough that, unhealed, it could create severe damage." She explains. She cancels the spell with a simple 'finite incantatem'. "I must fetch the Headmaster immediately."
Trust Mulciber not to be able to cast correctly, I snort. But as my eyes turn back to my wound, I wonder that perhaps, just this once, I should be grateful for such stupidity. Begrudgingly, I ought to be grateful to Lily, too, were it not that she out-manoeuvred me – to think that Gryffindor's Princess was able to out-do a Slytherin at his own game! Needless to say that perhaps my bloody wound is not the only wound in need of healing.
My mind begins to race. Resigned, I lean my head against the wall and let my eyes take in the Hospital Wing. White walls, starched sheets and that clean smell that is both welcoming and eerie. If I just close my eyes, block my mind and simply breathe, it amazes me that in the midst of it all, I can find peace. Safety. A simple reprieve from my worldly woes in but a sweeping breath.
Yet, eyes open again, the mental sanity that had briefly returned like a candle on a dark night, was snuffed out by the veracity of my thoughts. Grandma. Could the dark curse have contributed to my anger towards her, that night?
Before I can answer my own question, Madam Pomfrey returns with the Headmaster in tow. He immediately glares at my arm, with not a sign of his sublime twinkle-eyes.
"How are you feeling, Severus?" He asks politely, edging towards the bed slowly before gracefully sitting at my bedside. He lifts a gentle hand to trace the black, protruding dots.
"As well as can be expected, Headmaster" I reply. He nods his head in understanding.
"Severus, I am going to have to remove the Dark Magic from you. It will not be painless, nor quick. Despite the inadequacy of the curse, I expect that you will be unable to use your arm for at least a week." He explains.
I feel the blood drain from my face as I think of the implications; one week in which I cannot defend myself properly. One week in which I cannot brew properly. One week in which I cannot brew to protect Grandma.
"Must it be done now?"
"It is of utmost importance it is done now. The longer it is left, the stronger it will become, making the removal and your consequential recovery worse each moment."
I nod. Of course, it's only logical; Merlin knows how I have studied the theory of blood magic, and I scorn at my own naiveté.
"What about my classes, sir? And my grandmother?"
At this, some joy enters Dumbledore's eyes, his taut face slackens.
"Your classes, Severus, will continue on without you, which shouldn't worry you in the slightest. Your grandmother, however, will need to be sustained. Perhaps Miss Evans can take your place?"
I, despite my avowal to never gawk like a fish, do just so. Let Lily meet Grandma? Let my grandmother, the sly bint of Slytherin herself, meet Lily? And further still, ask Lily to carry such a burden as to sustain my grandmother?
"I cannot see how that is possible, sir. Lily is stressed enough as is" – he holds a hand up to hush me.
"I am sure that Miss Evans would love the opportunity to help you, Severus, as you are among her closest friends. Moreover, I am sure you can assist her still by guiding her through the potions."
"Indeed Miser Snape. You should be released later on tonight and from then on, no direct brewing for you!" Madam Pomfrey interjects with ferocity. The frustration in me runs rife, and I can't conceive of how she can possibly expect me to abide by such rules, but with each beat of my heart, the more I feel the weight of my arm…
"Fine. I obviously have no true say in the matter." I scowl. Madam Pomfrey deals me a very unsympathetic look.
"Severus, I need you to lie down." Dumbledore instructs as he retrieves his wand from somewhere in his beard. "I need you to put every ounce of thought into that wound, how it feels physically and in turn, how it makes you feel emotionally. It will help me to identify and locate the dark magic streams and remove them. I will begin on three. One."
I take a deep breath and explore my senses, my thought on that one part of my body that feels numb yet painful; a paradox that begins to tear at the seams of my mind,
"Two." Pain, blood, death. The more I think about the wound, the more I feel it is eating at my flesh, the more I feel it consume me.
"Three." With every heart beat I feel my body twist and turn into darkness. The dots become bigger, and start expanding across my skin, covering me in black bile. The more I think about the wound, the inevitable, inescapable pain, the more my vision blurs. Fear and dread drown me, sheath me in a cloak of darkness. The abyss is cold, lifeless – and yet pain and fear exist. What hope is there in such a place? As my thoughts catapult me into the realm of insanity, just as I feel my body fight no longer against the dark swell – with some modicum of consciousness to register Dumbledore's angry exclamation of "Merlin!" a small light bursts into my lonely abyss.
What seems to be a pinprick at first, akin to a lone star in the night sky, grows and grows. The light chases the darkness from the recesses of my mind, the shell of my body, and feels almost blinding in its intensity. Replacing the dark magic within, the light creates an undeniable energy, fills my body with flesh and bone whence once it felt hollow.
Finally, as if the porthole to another world, the light –as I physically feel it repel the dark bile - pushes the darkness out of my wound. With excruciating pain, the light breaks off the final threshold of the dark on my arm, and as I – half blindly – look at my arm, before my eyes I see my wound knit back together, as if by an invisible thread.
With the knowledge that it is gone, my mind finally collapses into a peaceful slumber.
When I come to, my eyes are difficult and heavy to open. I must blink away the blurriness to make out the concerned figures of Madam Pomfrey and the dishevelled Headmaster. I look down at my arm and see the healed wound, and my arm covered in thick black bile.
I try to sit up, but my body shakes too much. I cough, and try to speak instead.
"What on earth was that, Headmaster?" I ask shakily.
"That, my dear boy, was more than expected – it should have been a simple extraction, but instead the rudimentary darkness sought strongholds within your personality. From there, it tries to spread. I hadn't realized how strong it had become, nor recognized the complexities in your personality. You are beyond your age, Severus, and must be extremely careful."
"Sir?" Was my pathetic response.
"You must avoid the Dark Arts, the truer forms of dark magic of any capacity, whether it be reading, writing – thinking. Too easily could the Dark seduce you to a most unsavoury and painful path, so you must ensure that you never encounter it. The fact that young Mulciber was able to affect you so strongly with what is, relatively speaking, a weak dark spell is testament to the danger you face."
Madam Pomfrey retrieves a washcloth and proceeds to wash off the residue on my arm.
"I understand sir." I earnestly reply. Dumbledore nods.
"Fortunately Severus, the struggle of the dark signifies that you are indeed a powerful wizard, who will find an endless, undeniable, unrivalled ally in the light." Were it not for the sombre timbre of his tone, I would have passed his comment off as the result of his barmy ways, perhaps even have ventured a guess that he spent too much time in the heady, seedy Divination classroom. But it was in that one moment; truly seeing beyond the shallow façade of such words, labels as 'light' and 'dark'. For once, recognizing every harsh line on Dumbledore's centennial face, feeling the dull yet painful throb of my wound. And perhaps also for the first time, considering the reality of it all.
In that same moment the bizarre realization dawns: how odd that one can be amidst and a victim to a war, despite not even being aware. For how long had Voldemort's suave mannerisms, which shielded his ill intent, seeped into the lives and attitudes of my classmates, of I, since we were children?
My always-grey world seemed to become more overcast and murkier, as my philosophies spiral beyond my grasp. I am shaken by a cool cloth pressed to my wound, and the fear – the shock – recedes with Dumbledore's following words: "Never despair, Severus, for despite the overtness of evil, purity and goodness still exist, forever white against a dim background, that must be the foundation of our hope. With that, Mr Snape, I must leave you. I know that you are in good hands. Rest assured, also, that your attackers will be punished." He says, as he clasps his hands and begins to retreat to the door, looking worse for wear than he did upon entering.
"I would bloody expel those little pests…" Pomfrey mutters. I murmur my thanks as he heads towards the Infirmary door, one shaky hand outstretched to the use-worn door handle.
My head lapses back onto the pillow, my body slackens into the mattress. I vaguely feel the cloth of Madam Pomfrey's cooling towel now wiping my forehead. But beyond that, as I ever sink into a state of unconsciousness, I feel the ever quiet yet persistent drum of the wound, as if beckoning me to test it.
I awaken, not to the dull thrum of my wound, but to a sweet, enchanting scent. As I open my bleary eyes, spots of flame-coloured orange form themselves to frame a most beautiful picture indeed. Lily, sweet, maddening Lily, is but inches from my face. Swiftly, quickly, with braveness akin to a Gryffindor, she effortlessly leans down and kisses my chapped lips.
Brief though that single touch was, the warmth of it – of her love – spread throughout my body. The maddening desire to capture her lips once again startles my body into action. The incredible feeling drowns away all of the dark thoughts of before, as I accept the truth – this is what I have to live for; this is 'light'. The revelation of that alone makes me soppier than I care to admit, and before I can recall my limbs back to reasoning, my uninjured hand reaches up to the nape of her neck, and pulls her back down for more truth and wonder.
An eternity or less, Lily pulled away with a shaky giggle, one hand pushing away my hair.
"How do you feel, Severus? Madam Pomfrey told me you had a significant operation." Lily said, a tiny crease forming on her flawless face.
"Yes. Well, no thanks to you and your Slytherin stunt." I scowl. Despite the fact, unknowingly or not, she saved my life to a degree, I had a cunning plan to exact my revenge…but now it feels too unjustified to proceed. Lily just rolls her eyes.
"For goodness sake, Sev, if it was an operation performed by no less than Dumbledore and at Hogwarts rather than St Mungo's, I concur that it was a significant and urgent event. Indeed, Severus, I don't know about your ability to apply logic outside matters of the cauldron, but my superior deductions in reasoning leads me to suggest" she pauses for breath, straightens out imaginary creases on her skirt, "that I may well have saved your sorry, admittedly cute arse." She finishes, eyes aflame with delight, cheeks flushed with either exertion or her ending comment.
I feel something within me swell, but I bottle the desire to capture her pursed lips; muffle the desire with another quip. Two can play the dangerous game of half-serious flirtation.
"The cheek! And to think I was going to give you a kiss of appreciation, at least now I know what you would think of it!" I mock back, frowning at her. For a moment, I fear she believes my words. Her face shifts from one of pride to one of confusion. Her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, and that neat little frown returns to mark its territory upon her forehead. Yet, whether it be the amusement in my eyes or the slight and completely accidental quirk of my lip, doubt is erased from her face by a dazzling smile.
"Is that so, Severus?" She says as she leans in, her beautiful red hair cascading around my face, as if to create our own little world. She tantalisingly touches her lips against mine, and gives my bottom lip a nibble, before pulling away. "How was that for cheek?" She responds. The moment is so delicious, I cannot help but grin at her.
"I think that your Gryffindor bravery has found its place!" I laugh, to which she playfully slaps me on the stomach and hops off the bed.
"C'mon Sev, I can't imagine you would want to be lying around here all day" she reasons, already folding the sheets at the bottom of the bed.
"That depends…" I mutter as I cautiously sit upright and wing my legs around. Lily immediately comes up to me, her eyes fixated on the scar, the previous light mood darkening somewhat.
"It looks a lot better, Sev. Is it tender to touch?" She questions.
"That's because it is, and yes Lily, it is tender – both superficially on the surface of the skin, and deeper." I turn to look into her eyes. "It was a dark curse, Lily." I explain. Her eyes widen, in shock and her face changed to disbelief.
"What does this mean, Sev?" She asks, her voice noticeably controlled.
"Come on, Lily. We'll discuss it with a glass of pumpkin juice and muffliato by the lake. I could do with seeing the outdoors, and fancy a drink before we start this topic." I reason as I get off the bed. As I walk towards the door, Lily swiftly picks up her belongings and follows me.
"Cute butt, indeed!" Lily comments, to my horror, as we exit the infirmary, winking at me as she grabs my hand.
Dear, dear Readers,
How I must apologize! I am so very sorry it has taken me so long - it scares me to look back, and for the time to feel like but a day, rather than years. I promised to never give up on this story, and I never shall. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope that you enjoyed reading it. I am well aware I may be very, very rusty at writing FanFic, and that I've only edited it once, but I feel it is just time for me to upload it...the mistakes, I shall fix up later!
This chapter is really about Sev coming to terms about the complexities in his nature, about the seductiveness of the 'Dark Side', and realizing what the purpose of life is all about - what makes standing strong in the face of Darkness worth it.
I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and for those of you who continue to read my story after so long - a true, from the bottom-of-my-heart thank you. Also, thank you to all of the people who have reviewed my story and, without even knowing it, made my day, my week, that much brighter.
With love, excitement and enthusiasim for the adventures to be had ahead,
Angela
(Missteque).