Disclaimer: Thank Merlin I don't own it.
Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the incredible reviews. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story.
I'm really glad that you think that Ron, Hermione, and Neville are acting in character. I love all three of them - always have. They all have their unique personalities. I especially love adding Neville into the story. I wish he would have been included in canon more often, but I'm so glad he got his chance to shine in Deathly Hallows.
As for Draco, I'm glad you're enjoying what I'm doing with him, too. As far as him accepting Snape saving Harry as part of his cover for Dumbledore, I can definitely see him thinking about that. He's at an age where he's starting to understand that kind of thing, but I don't think he grasps it fully yet. You'll see in a later chapter that Snape will explain it to him completely. Indeed, his years of indoctrination are battling with his new experiences. He can't understand why he suddenly feels the way he does, since he's hated Harry for so long and he's gotten used to how that is. It's a jolt to his system to think any differently.
And no, of course I don't mind people using the expression "blinded by". I've never gotten offended by sayings like that. I've been blind my entire life, and it's just part of who I am. As I've grown up, people have asked me things like, "Do you mind if I say it's good to see you?" Honestly, I'd mind more if they didn't say things like that. I always say "good to see you" myself. Just because I can't see with my eyes doesn't mean I can't see in other ways. Once, years ago, I went to a doctor's office for a checkup, and one of the nurses asked me if I'd "listened" to some show on TV last night. When I said, "No, I didn't watch it," the nurse felt the need to correct me. "You mean, you didn't "listen" to it," she said, thinking she knew better. "No, I didn't watch it," I insisted. I still watch the TV even if I can't see it. I use the same terminology as everyone else.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.
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It was late at night, and Severus Snape was exhausted. Today had drained him more than he thought was possible as he found himself in the last place he wanted to be. And yet, it was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Pomfrey had let Potter's friends stay with him all day, and Severus couldn't muster up the strength to argue with her. They weren't causing a scene, after all - they'd just been quietly sitting with him. He could see the strain this was putting on all of them, and he witnessed the effect Potter's poisoning was having on Pomfrey. She had never had a student at Hogwarts who had needed her expertise so much.
Obviously, since the hospital wing was now empty of visitors, Poppy had told Potter's friends to go back to their dormitories. And so here Snape was, sitting alone by the boy's bedside, watching as he breathed in and out, in and out. Time passed slowly, almost mockingly. Honestly, Snape didn't know what he was even here for. It wasn't like Poppy couldn't stay awake to watch over Potter. There was a potion that you could take that would actually keep the body from sleeping, although it was considered dangerous if one embibed it too often. A human body needed sleep, after all. Snape had heard about witches and wizards who used the potion all the time, and the results were highly unpleasant, to say the least.
But in instances like this, the use of the potion was warranted. Snape, however, had not drunk any of it - he knew sleep wouldn't come tonight. He was an insomniac anyway, but tonight he wouldn't even try to rest. His mind was too full of thought and emotion to do so.
He had failed. Yet again, he had failed. He was supposed to watch over his students. He was supposed to know when one of them was doing something heinous. And yet, just like with the Moody and Crouch situation, he had completely and utterly failed. He was a spy. He was supposed to see when awful plots were afoot. And this time, it had almost been too late.
"He's running out of time, Professor." Granger's words kept echoing in his head. She had been more correct than Snape ever wanted her to know. He knew all too well how this poison worked, and when he and Poppy had administered the potion this morning, Potter had only had minutes left. It was only by the skin of his teeth that Snape had finished brewing the potion in enough time to save Potter's life. He had known it would be a race against the clock as soon as Madam Pomfrey had cast diagnostic charms on the boy once he'd arrived in the infirmary. Potter was dying. There was no other way to say it. Snape had to hurry, because Potter was slipping away. The last remnant of Lily, the one person Snape was sworn to protect, was dying due to a poison he had created as an angry young man who wanted nothing more than to take revenge on those who had wronged him.
"I know why you are here, Severus."
The quiet, gentle voice caused Snape to jolt upright. Albus. Of course. The old man had caught him in yet another vulnerable position. Again. How was it that the fool seemed to know everything?
He said nothing in response to the Headmaster, who conjured another chair and sat down in it. Once again, he was making himself at home, and it was precisely the last thing Severus wanted. "What is it, Dumbledore?" he snapped.
"You did not fail him," said Albus, and Snape's hackles instantly rose. But Albus paid no attention, even though Severus was sure he would know his Potions Master's reaction. "You saved him."
"I do not need your platitudes," Snape snarled, glaring daggers at the old man who was wearing that calm, gentle mask that Snape knew was nothing but deceit. Dumbledore was a man who was unafraid to move his pawns exactly where he wanted them. Snape was not going to be manipulated by the kindness in the twinkling blue eyes.
"It is the truth, Severus." Dumbledore paid no heed to Snape's tone. "You could only work with what you were given, my boy. And now you sit at his bedside, torturing yourself."
"I was almost too late, you fool!" Snape hissed, his black eyes moving back to the boy in the bed. "He was almost ..."
Dumbledore gently laid a hand on Snape's shoulder, and all he wanted was to shove it away. "But he survived," he said quietly. "He is still here, thanks to you."
"Thanks to me?" Now, Snape really did shove Albus's hand away. He rose to his feet, and began to pace back and forth, back and forth across the floor. "Do you not realize that this was the poison I created? You have no idea what went into that project. Hours and hours I spent, inventing something that would cement my position in the Dark Lord's ranks."
He despised the way Dumbledore was still looking at him; he looked completely unperturbed, like it wasn't at all a surprise that Snape was saying all this, which only made him angrier. How dare Dumbledore just sit there like that! He was strongly reminded of the day he had almost been murdered by that mongrel Sirius Black, when he had ranted and raved and railed at Dumbledore and the man had just sat there, calm as you please, utterly untouched by the words that were spat out of Severus's mouth in rage and pain.
His eyes wandered back to Potter who was lying in bed, recovering from the effects of a poison that had almost taken his life a little over twelve hours ago. He was going to live through it now, but that didn't mean recovery would be easy. He was still racked with fever, and that would not break for some time. His breathing was less ragged than it had been, but it certainly wasn't normal. And when he awoke, his body would be in pain the likes of which ... Snape shuddered. The Dark Lord had wanted maximum pain for his victims. This particular poison wasn't meant to be survived, but if someone did, they would wish they hadn't when they first awoke. And Harry Potter was going to experience that very thing.
And Dumbledore just sat there, his eyes still twinkling, and Severus snapped. His pain and rage were so great that he wanted to throw something at the Headmaster. But he refrained from that instinct with an effort of Herculean proportions, and instead said in his lowest, deadliest voice, "It is safe to say that I had many ... visions of using that poison on you. It is incredibly difficult to detect, like many of the others that have been invented throughout wizarding history. The only reason I did not attempt it when I first joined the Dark Lord was because he was insistent upon destroying you himself."
Dumbledore chuckled - chuckled! - and Snape could barely move as a hot, acidic surge of rage rooted him to the spot. "I know exactly what you are doing, Severus, and I will not capitulate to it. You cannot frighten or shock me by what you are saying in your anger and fear for the boy."
"I am not afraid for that boy!" Snape growled. If he wasn't in a hospital room with a seriously ill child, he would have roared and shrieked at the man who was still sitting in his conjured chair, like nothing had happened at all.
"I beg to differ," Dumbledore said gently. "I understand how you are feeling."
"No, you don't!" Snape spat. "And did you not understand me, Dumbledore? Are you not at all disconcerted by the fact that if I'd had the opportunity, I would have used that poison on you myself?"
"No, I am not," Dumbledore said quietly. "Do you think I don't know the anger and hatred you harbored towards me at the time? I was perfectly aware of it, Severus. But I also knew there was hope for you, that you would see that Voldemort was not going to sustain your loyalty."
"So if I told you ..." Snape stopped, the words he wanted to say constricting his vocal cords until he thought he might scream with the pent-up emotion contained within him.
"If you told me that there are times you're still tempted to cause me pain, would I be afraid of you?" Dumbledore finished for him, still in a calm, gentle tone. "No, I would not. Because despite what you try to tell yourself and others, you know what is right. You will not succumb to your old ways - you have come too far in your redemption to do so."
"I'm not redeemed, you stupid fool," Snape sneered, but even as the words came out, he cursed himself for them. He sounded like a foolish teenager who was trying his hardest to win an argument that he knew he could not. "Hasn't the way I've treated your golden boy all these years shown you that?"
"I do wish you'd treated him better, it is true," Dumbledore admitted, his eyes sad. Snape always despised that whenever the man looked at him that way, it caused stabs of pain and guilt to plunge through him. "He never deserved your spite, Severus. He does not know of your past with both of his parents."
"Don't," Snape said in a strangled voice. "Please, Albus."
Dumbledore got up from his chair, patting Potter's hand as he did so. "I will take my leave now," he said quietly, but Snape knew he would deliver a parting shot before he exited.
And indeed, Severus was right. "But you have not failed him. There is still time for you to know the real him, and for him to know the real you, Severus. There was already a moment when you were able to break through the hurt and bitterness and see him for who he truly is. Continue down that road, Severus, and both of you will be much better off for it."
And with that, he left the hospital wing, shutting the doors behind him and leaving Snape in a profound, almost unmanageable silence, with only the sound of the boy's breathing to break it.
Snape sighed, placing his head in his hands as he sat back down. Pain and exhaustion filled every pore of his body, and his heart felt like a lead weight. Bloody Dumbledore. He always spoke truths that Snape did not want to acknowledge. He could never leave well enough alone. He always had to say things that jangled every single one of his nerves. He didn't even seem to care that Snape, at one point in time, wanted to give him an excruciatingly painful death. He acted like it was nothing he didn't know, and Snape should have suspected that he always had known.
And yet, despite that, Dumbledore had accepted Severus into the fold. He was a harsh task master, and in some ways, he was worse than the Dark Lord. He manipulated with gentleness and kindness, while the Dark Lord threatened torture and death if his servants did not perform their duties adequately. If Dumbledore spoke unkind words to Severus, which he had done on a fair few occasions, they were always barbed arrows shot right through the heart that made Snape's regret and guilt for his past actions rise up and swallow him whole. He had always known what to expect when he had been Summoned before the Dark Lord, but whenever he and Dumbledore were having a discussion, he never knew what to prepare for.
Merlin, he felt so awful. He wanted nothing more than to retrieve Poppy, who was currently sleeping, and let her know that he was going back to his rooms ... but he couldn't. His duty to the Potter boy was keeping him here against his will.
But it's not against your will, Severus. Damn Lily for showing up inside his head again. Merlin, how he despised his conscience for sounding exactly like her. Don't pretend otherwise. If it was against your will you'd wake Poppy this instant.
Even her voice wasn't enough to get him to leave. He continued to sit there, watching Potter as he slept on. Why was it that every time the boy took a breath, Snape felt relieved?
He sat there for several hours more, monitoring Potter's symptoms. At one point, his fever became high enough to cause him concern. Even though Potter was going to survive, it wasn't good for him to be running such a high temperature. Therefore, he grabbed a fever-reducing potion from Poppy's stock and administered it to the boy, casting a charm to allow him to swallow it. Several minutes later, he was glad to see that the fever had gone down, but he knew that it would not break for several more days yet. It had been three hours since his last dose of the potion that would eventually cure him, so he only had one hour before the next dose. And without being able to understand it, Snape knew that he was going to be the one to give it to him.
And that was just it. He truly didn't understand it, because he was starting to see signs that Potter was going to wake up very soon, most likely before the next dose was even administered. Why in Merlin's name should he be here when Potter awoke, with pain racking every nerve ending in his body? Poppy should be here, or Minerva. They'd talk to him, soothe him, reassure him that everything was going to be okay. Poppy would squeeze his hand, and tell him that the pain would ease. Minerva would let her stern mask slip, and she'd coddle the boy - maybe she'd even shed a few tears.
Snape, however, would do none of those things. Exactly what he would do, he didn't know. But why was he allowing himself to find out?
He wrestled with himself, trying to tell himself to go to Poppy and wake her. However, before he could convince his damned conscience that this was indeed the right thing to do, the boy started to stir. At that moment, Snape felt dread consuming every part of him. You fool, he told himself. You incredible, incredible fool.
But he couldn't do anything now, except watch the boy struggle to open his eyes. Instantly, his breaths started to come hard and fast as he attempted to move his body, and found that he couldn't do so. He opened his mouth, and a low moan of pain came out of it. Those emerald eyes filled with panic, and they darted around the room, only to land on Snape.
"Take deep breaths, Potter," Snape instructed in a low voice, and he was unprepared for the wave of crushing guilt that crashed upon him at that moment. He'd never, ever wanted to see this kind of pain in Potter's eyes. It filled him with a horror that he no longer thought he had the capacity to feel.
"I ... can't!" Potter gasped, his entire face suffused with pain, and as he came to the full realization of who, exactly, was in the room with him, his eyes filled with hurt and confusion. "Why ..." His voice was tiny. "Why ... are ... you ... here?"
"I am here because Madam Pomfrey is currently sleeping," Snape said, knowing that this was only half-true - she would have been here in a heartbeat if Snape desired it. "I am here because I am the only one who can be."
For a reason that Snape couldn't fathom, Potter's eyes showed another flash of hurt at that answer. "Oh," he said softly before letting out another moan of pain. "Please," he cried out in a voice that burned something in Severus. "It hurts."
This, again, was not the Potter he was used to. That boy would glare at Snape, telling him that he didn't need him here, that he was fine, absolutely fine. That Potter wouldn't look at him the way this one was doing - he was pleading for help. His eyes were begging the man to take the pain away, and it destroyed something in him to see that look. Didn't the boy understand that it was Snape's fault that he was in this pain in the first place?
He heard his voice come out gruffer than usual as he quietly said, "I know, Potter." There was no heat in his words, no venom or bitterness. It was only the two of them here, in this moment, and Snape felt lost, so completely submerged in pain and regret and guilt.
"Hold on. I'll be right back," said Snape softly as he went back to Poppy's potion stock and retrieved a pain potion. Unfortunately, it wouldn't do very much, since the effects of the poison were so extreme, but it would at least take some of it away. Merlin, he couldn't bear to see Harry Potter looking at him like that.
He returned to the boy's side. "I shall help you sit up so you can take this potion," he said quietly.
Potter said nothing - he only gasped with the agony Snape knew he was feeling as he was assisted in sitting up. Snape held out the vial to him, and Potter managed to grip it. His movements were incredibly shaky, but he managed not to spill a single drop as he put it to his lips and drank it all.
Even though Severus could see that the boy was still in pain, he relaxed as some of it eased. "Thank you, sir," he whispered as he lay back down. "What day is it?"
"It's the early hours of Tuesday morning, Potter," said Snape, speaking in a clinical, detached manner. "It was yesterday morning when you were poisoned. Your friends were with you all day, until Madam Pomfrey told them to go back to their dormitories. I doubt they wanted to leave your side."
There was a time when Snape would have sneered those words, and added a snide comment to boot. But his voice was still emotionless as he spoke them. His heart felt like it had been torn to shreds - he could not have come up with any insults even if he'd tried to.
"Oh." Now Potter sounded emotionless too as he fully came to the realization of what had happened to him. "I almost died again, didn't I?" he said with the air of one who had gotten all too used to his life being threatened at school.
And Snape knew the boy deserved the truth. "Yes, Potter," he said softly. "You did. Once you got to the hospital wing, a potion needed to be brewed for you. It took time to make, and by the time you embibed it ... it was almost too late."
Potter didn't react at first - it was as if Snape had told him the weather would be sunny tomorrow. But then, slowly, his face transformed into a bitter smile. It was the same smile he had worn on the night he had stayed in Snape's quarters, and the Potions Master was reminded all too vividly of that memory. "I see," he whispered. "I suppose I'll have to add poison to the list of ways I almost die at this school."
And then, he added so softly that Snape almost didn't hear him, "Sometimes, I just wish I would already." He looked at Snape with haunted green eyes. "I don't understand," he said in a voice laced with pain. "I don't understand you at all. Why do you keep saving me, Professor? I wish you'd stop. I don't ... I can't do this anymore."
His emerald eyes bored into Snape's black ones, and Snape felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Just like on the night Potter had stayed with him, the boy wasn't exaggerating or being melodramatic. "Potter ..." he started, unable to think of a single thing to say.
"I'm tired, Professor," Potter said, and Snape knew he was only saying any of this because his senses were riddled with pain. "One minute you hate me. The next minute you're being civil to me. The next minute you're being awful again. And sir ... I know I said something that really hurt you. You didn't ... you didn't hate my mother, did you?"
Snape looked deeply into Potter's eyes, and there was so much he could say at that moment. The guilt, pain, and shame swelled up in him again, and those green eyes were only making his emotions more potent. He could not tell Potter about Lily - he could never, ever find out the truth.
But he couldn't directly lie to him, either. He could never lie to Lily either - it was impossible to look into those green eyes and do so. "No," Severus found himself whispering into the darkness. "I did not."
Potter nodded in acceptance. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm sorry I said that to you."
Snape was stunned. He never thought Harry Potter, of all people, would apologize to him for anything. He heard Dumbledore's dreaded voice in his head - the boy is not his father, Severus.
And if Snape knew anything for certain, it was that James Potter would have never apologized to him for the horrific, cruel bullying he had subjected him to. But his son had apologized for saying something that had caused Snape extreme pain.
"Will you stop ignoring me in class now?" Potter asked bluntly. "Can you at least ... look at me once in a while?"
Snape smirked slightly, rather amused by the boy's honesty. He had to admit that the request shocked him as well. Since when did Potter want his attention? "I take it you would rather have me insult you than Longbottom?" he asked.
"Neville doesn't deserve to be insulted," Potter said. "He's trying really hard."
Snape was still smirking. "That remains to be seen. I will say that he conducted himself rather ... admirably this morning, all things considered," he allowed himself to say, against his better judgment.
Potter smiled slightly, but then his face grew serious again. "You brewed the potion that saved me, just like you summoned the bezoar," Potter said. It wasn't a question.
"You remember the bezoar?" Snape asked, surprised that he had any memory of that moment.
"It's the last thing I remember from yesterday morning," Potter replied. "But sir ... why do you act so strange? Why did you save me?"
"Don't be obtuse, Potter," Snape drawled. "I am your teacher. Teachers should not let students succumb to deadly poisons, as I'm sure you are aware."
Potter gave him a look that clearly said: I know there's something you're not telling me. But he said no more on the subject, knowing that he wasn't going to get an answer. Snape knew that look in Potter's eyes, however - he would only let the subject go for now.
"Can I go to sleep now?" Potter asked, his tone full of exhaustion.
"Yes, Potter. But I need you to take this potion first," Snape said as he helped the boy to sit again. "It needs to be taken every four hours for the next few days. It will help to cure you from the poison's effects."
Without saying a word, Potter took the vial and downed the potion. He nodded at Snape, and the man nodded back.
Severus knew that once Potter fell asleep, he would finally awaken Madam Pomfrey. He was shaken from the encounter with the boy, and all he wanted to do was go back to his dungeons and think.
But as Potter lay back down, Snape found himself saying something to the boy that he never thought he would. "You deserve to live, Potter," he said in a stern tone that brooked no argument. "I will hear no more talk of wishing that your death would occur. Do you understand me?"
Potter stared at him, his green eyes round with surprise.
"Do you understand me, Potter?" Snape repeated. "I would like a verbal response, please."
"Yes, Professor Snape," Potter whispered into the darkness.
"Good," Snape said. "Now get some rest."
"Yes, sir," Potter said. "Thank you, sir."
And with that, Snape swept from the room and went to awaken Poppy Pomfrey, knowing that the events of the early hours of this morning would haunt him for a long, long time to come.