CHAPTER 46

Though I'm sitting right across from Snape, speaking softly to him, he pays me no attention. It's like he's not really here. After a few minutes of trying to get his attention calmly, I shout, "LOOK AT ME!"

Finally, he seems to register something, and he takes a deep, shaky breath, almost as if he hasn't been breathing this whole time. "Charlotte?" he questions, his eyes confused. "What are you doing here? How long have you been here?"

And that's the moment I start laughing. "What are—are you serious? You just tried to cast the Killing Curse on me!"

He shakes his head. "You must be joking. I don't believe I've had the desire to kill you in quite some time."

"But you just—"

"Get out of my office," he growls.

"I tell you that you tried to kill me, and you tell me to—"

"Get out of my office."

Unable to even remember the last time Snape was this rude to me, I don't know what to do or how to react. "Professor?"

"GET OUT!"

I stand to my feet. If Snape is ill in some way, he can solve it himself. And as for his attempt to kill me—I really should have left right after that little incident.

His voice still angry, he says, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving, Professor, like you told me to. Whatever's going on with you, you can fix it yourself."

"You agreed; there is no further discussion."

I take a short breath. "What are you talking about? I don't understand—"

"You take too much for granted!" This time the thing he snatches from his desk as he rises to his feet is actually his wand, and I feel my heart stop in my chest. "Why don't I just go ahead and get it over with then?"

I raise my hands to him, trying to show him that I'm not a threat in any way. "Professor, please." I really should have left when I had the chance.

"Why don't I just go ahead and kill you? Get it over with now? After all, you're going to die anyway!"

He's right, of course. "Fine. Go ahead—you'll be doing me a favor. But it'll be your head on a spike when Voldemort finds out what you've done."

His hand trembles horrifically, almost to the point where I'm unsure if he could hit me with a spell even if he tried. Then, suddenly, a question sparks in his dark eyes, and he slowly look down at his wand. His mouth opens for a second as if he is going to voice the silent question in his eyes, but instead, he tosses the wand onto the floor in front of his desk, his eyes then shifting back to his hand and watching it as if it is burning. "Ch-Charlotte?" He closes his eyes and presses the heel of his hand against the side of his head.

"Professor, would you like to explain to me what just happened, why you've threatened my life twice since I stepped through your office door ten minutes ago?"

"What're you talking about?"

"Are you feeling all right?"

He looks down at himself. "I believe so. Why?"

"You just threatened to kill me."

"Then you must have done something to deserve it."

Before I have the chance to say anything about this, Snape coughs once, collapses to his knees, and begins vomiting blood on the stone floor. "Professor!" I rush toward him, taking out my wand and vanishing the blood. "Professor, what's wrong? What's happened?"

"I thought I could speed it up . . ." he mumbles, trying to grab his desk and pull himself up to his feet. "It didn't work." His hand slips and he lands on his shoulder on the stone.

"Professor!" I don't know how to help him. Medicinal magic and potions are not my forte. There's nothing I can do for him.

"It didn't work . . ."

"What didn't work?" I finally lower myself to the floor, sitting on me knees beside him, and put my hands on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. "What didn't work? What've you done?"

"I needed it, I tried to tweak it . . ." he tries to explain, just barely bracing himself on his forearm in an attempt to sit up just a bit. "I thought . . . it would help . . ." Again, he vomits up blood, this time directly onto my lap, and the warm liquid immediately starts soaking through my robes. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it. "It didn't . . . it didn't work . . . if anyone can modify it . . . I could've . . . I'm out of time…"

"What are you talking about?"

But he can't answer, for he's puking blood again, right onto me, drenching my chest and stomach and filling my nose with the pungent scent of stomach acid and blood. I swallow down a gag and try to breathe only through my mouth to minimize the smell. "That's disgusting," I mutter to myself. It's fine, it's fine, it's not vomit-vomit, it's blood, this is fine. THIS ISN'T FINE: HE IS VOMITING BLOOD. I shift and slide my hands under his arms and do my best to haul him to his feet, his face resting against my stomach for a brief moment before I get him high enough into the air to deposit him in his chair. His face, now smeared with his own blood from falling against me, looks up at me with a sort of vulnerability Snape should never have. His skin is even paler now than it was when I first arrived in his office, and I feel a panic setting in. What do I do if he dies?

"Go . . . to the . . . hospital wing . . ." he moans, slouching back in the chair and closing his eyes. "Blood-Replenishing Potion . . . Hurry. Tell no one."

"But what about . . . whatever else is wrong with you?"

"It'll wear . . . off . . . Hurry."

I don't waste a moment before casting the Disillusionment Charm over myself and dashing from his office. I make no stops and do not slow down, regardless of the fact that many of the people will probably be able to hear me. I see Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid as I make my way to the hospital wing. ". . . Snape makin' investigations in his House, in Slytherin." Hermione and Harry exchange a look as I pass them. "Well, there's nothin' strange about that! All the Heads o' Houses were asked ter look inter that necklace business—"

"Yeah, but Dumbledore's not having rows with the rest of them, is he?" Harry interrupts.

The tone in Hagrid's voice is a professor-like warning, but I can't hear what he says because I'm too far away now. Snape is in great need of the Blood-Replenishing Potion, and I don't think it's a good idea for me to dally just to hear what's going on.

But Snape and Dumbledore having rows? This can't be good. I could ask Snape but don't want to risk anything angering him right now. I only just escaped his office with my life, and I'd rather not anger him when he's in this state, whatever this state is.

When at long last I reach the hospital wing, the door is propped open, making it a simple task to enter without making a scene. Ron, lying on one of the beds, is surrounded by his family. I desperately want to reach out to them, but Snape needs me right now. I dodge around Pomfrey and enter the back room. It takes nearly ten minutes before I find the potion, grab two vials of it, and stuff it into my robes. Pomfrey's eyes follow me as I swerve around the Weasley family. Surely she can't see me.

Nothing stops me from barging into Snape's office. I shut the door, making sure to throw up a protection spell, and rush to Snape, who still sits in the chair from earlier, his face upward toward the ceiling, his mouth slightly ajar. I don't question whether my next move is wise or not because I see no other option right now. I put a vial against his lips and tip it into his mouth. He splutters for a second but manages to swallow it nevertheless. I Vanish the rest of the blood he puked up during my absence.

I drag my usual seat to his side and sit down. All I really want to do is change out of these blood-soaked clothes, but that isn't likely to happen until I get back to the dormitory, which won't happen until I know for sure that Snape is fine.

I prop my feet up on his desk and cross my arms, looking over at him suspiciously. He has a lot of explaining to do.

While I wait for Snape to recover enough to answer my questions, I Conjure another piece of cloth and a small bowl. Then use the Water-Making Spell to fill it. I dip the cloth into the water and begin trying to wash the blood off my robes and my hands the best that I can. I'm tempted to try washing the blood from Snape's face, but the idea of that seems too intimate, and he probably wouldn't appreciate it if he ever found out. He can clean himself up when he finally comes to.

I don't know how long it takes for Snape to finally come back around, but I'm fairly certain I fell asleep quite a few hours ago. And I'm starving. Did I miss lunch? What time is it? Snape jolts and takes a sharp, deep breath. I watch him as he rubs his face, then pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a few more deep breaths. When he removes his hands from his face, he looks from my feet, which are still propped on his desk, to my face. He doesn't seem to know what to say. Then he leans forward and taps the top of my foot. "Off." I obey despite his weak voice. "What are you doing here? What happened?"

"That's what I was hoping you could explain to me," I say.

"What . . . what are you talking about?" He pinches his face in what I assume is pain.

"I came in here earlier to speak with you," I say as I drag the chair back to the other side of his desk and sit down. "And you went crazy. You pulled your wand on me—well, it was a quill, but the point still stands that you tried casting the Killing Curse on me.

"I don't really know what all happened to you. All I know is that you seemed to . . . I don't really know. But the next time you threatened me, you actually used your wand." The weight of what has happened hits me with full force, and I can feel myself beginning to panic because I don't know if he's actually better yet. "Then . . . then you started puking blood, Professor! You had me go steal the Blood-Replenishing Potion from the hospital wing!" With a shaking hand I place the second vial on his desk, and he drinks it. "Why did you keep saying things like 'I had to modify it' and 'it didn't work'?"

His head turns to the cauldron of Felix Felicis brewing in the corner, and I hop up from my chair and run over to it. "Why didn't it work? How were you trying to change it?"

"You don't need to know."

I take out my wand and point it at the potion. "I'll Vanish it. You know I will."

Snape tries to stand, but he's still too weak and falls back into his chair. "I've been brewing that since the beginning of December!" he argues.

"Why didn't it work?" I repeat. "This potion takes months to brew, why would you—"

"I was Potions Master for years, Charlotte. I can modify potions. It needed to brew faster. Things are happening, things you don't understand. I need it."

"So you fucked up and almost killed me because you needed this potion to brew faster but were unsure if you could even do it?"

Snape struggles to his feet. "Listen," he says calmly, "there are things for which I need that. I don't expect you to under—"

"Does it have anything to do with the row you had with Professor Dumbledore?"

"I don't know how you know about that, but it is certainly not what you're thinking," Snape says, holding his midsection. "He's asked me to do something, that's all."

"Asked you to do something? Like what?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Are you sure about that? I understand a lot more than you give me credit for." I set my jaw determinedly. "Tell me what happened. I've spent hours watching over you because you vomited up so much blood. On me, by the way, which is disgusting, and it'll take a lot to forgive that. I had to steal from the hospital wing, and I'm fairly certain Pomfrey knew I was there. Tell me what I did all of this for."

"Professor Dumbledore—he, he asked me to help him," Snape relents, dropping back into his chair. "He asked me to help him with his hand. I needed the Liquid Luck."

"It brought no good luck to you, Professor. Are you sure you made it right?"

"Of course I did!" he exclaims, then seems to regret it if the pain on his face anything to go by. "I had to modify it."

"And you messed up, which made you . . . whatever it was that you were earlier?"

"What?"

"Why did the potion have such a bad effect on you?" I clarify.

"The modifications to make it brew faster didn't work."

"You were the Potions Master for sixteen years! How could you possibly—? You of all people know what happens when you take potions early! Or when you take an improperly brewed potion, which apparently this one was! You're not as clever as you think you are! Why would you do that? Why would you risk yourself by taking an untested potion that you tried modifying?"

"Because I was out of time! I was desperate! The headmaster has asked me to do things—things I would rather die than do! I was hoping—"

"That if you took the potion you could get out of it? But you messed up. And for what? To help with his hand? What does he want you to do?"

"I can't reverse the curse without a little bit of luck to—"

"But his hand has been like that all year. Why does it suddenly matter now?"

"It's not his hand that matters now!" Snape seems to be running out of energy. "What matters now is that Weasley was poisoned, and I had to find out what Draco did. I needed luck for that."

He's not as good of a liar when he's weak and in pain. "You could have died!"

"Then so be it."

"What use will you be dead?" I shout, tears forming in my eyes for reasons I don't fully understand. "Voldemort would stand a chance of winning this! I would be left to face him on my own! Dumbledore would be left without his informant! Bellatrix would have been proven right! YOU ONLY THINK OF YOURSELF!" I turn back to the potion. "Evanesco." The Felix Felicis disappears.

"NO!" He lunges from his chair, but with all the blood he's lost, he's still too weak, and he collapses on the stone floor. "Do you realize what you've done?"

Oh, Merlin, I'm so stupid. I make stupid and rash decisions. Holy shit, I've ruined— "You . . . you can make some more," I whisper.

"It takes six months!" he hisses. "We do not have that kind of time anymore!"

"Professor, I—"

"Get out."

"Professor—"

"GET OUT!"

I stop arguing and dart out of his office as quickly as possible. Before I attempt to go to the hospital wing, I retreat to the Slytherin Dungeon to remove my blood-covered robes and shower. I cannot—and, quite frankly, do not want to—walk around Hogwarts with Snape's blood on me. I'm surprised to find no students in bathroom but silently thank the universe for finally being kind to me.

By the time I make it to the hospital wing, Fred is no longer there, and I deflate. I should have taken a chance to spend time with him rather than fight Professor Snape. Why do I do things like this? Why do I act so irrationally?

I then make my way to McGonagall's office. She opens the door within seconds of me knocking and invites me in. "I almost thought you had gone into hiding," she says.

"What?"

"You were missing at both lunch and dinner today in the Great Hall."

My mouth drops open, and my stomach starts to ache from hunger. "It's been that long?"

"Where were you? Your friends asked me if I had seen you, so I believe it's safe to assume you've not been in the Slytherin dormitory."

I nod. "That's an accurate assumption." Should I tell her the truth? "Something was wrong with Professor Snape, and I was doing my best to help him."

"Is he ill? Unless I'm mistaken, he didn't go by the hospital wing. Surely it mustn't have been too severe."

"He had a negative reaction to a potion that he tried modifying. He didn't have time to let it brew completely, so he tried to speed it up. It didn't work."

"He was the Potions Master for sixteen years, and you expect me to believe he took a potion before it was ready, before he tested the change to see if it would work properly?"

"It's the truth. I don't know why he took it beyond the fact that he claims he was desperate. And I don't know why he was desperate because he wouldn't tell me."

"How is he now? Does he need to see Madam Pomfrey? Why did you not alert anyone about this?"

"I'm guessing he's all right now, seeing as he was strong enough to yell at me for Vanishing his potion." She seems on the brink of chastising me for this, but I quickly say, "I know I shouldn't have done it, please don't scold me. I'm sure he'll be furious enough when he finally completely recovers. And he'll also be furious if he's forced to go see Pomfrey or if she goes down to his office, which is something I don't need, so please don't say anything. He told me to tell no one."

She still seems concerned about Snape, and I partly wish she'd stop because I'm beginning to feel guilty about not reaching out for help earlier. "What was wrong with him?"

It's like she's trying to decide whether to go check on him herself. "It was like his mind wasn't there, and he was vomiting blood." I glance down at where his blood had once been. "I only just had the chance to clean up. I was in his office all day, keeping an eye on him, making sure he wasn't going to lose any more blood."

"You were in there all day?"

"Would you have left him unconscious and weak and possibly dying?"

"I would have brought him to the hospital wing."

"Against his will? Even though he forbade me from speaking of it?"

"Yes, I would have. And you're speaking of it now. You should have taken him to the hospital wing."

"All he said he needed was the Blood-Replenishing Potion, and I was able to get that for him without his needing to go to the hospital wing. And I'm speaking of it now because it's after the fact, it's to you, and I'm . . . worried about him."

"What do you mean you got the potion? Madam Pomfrey said nothing about you coming for anything. And if you're truly worried about him, you should have found a professor straightaway and taken him to the hospital wing. Take me to him now." She stands and motions for me to do the same. "Is he still in his office?"

I groan. "I used the Disillusionment Charm to sneak into the hospital wing and take the potion. The last time I saw him, he was in his office."

McGonagall closes her office door behind us. "I'll have to inform the headmaster that you stole from the hospital wing. And I'll need to take ten points from Slytherin."

"Yeah. But am I really going to be punished for trying to help a professor?"

"I'm afraid that depends on how said professor is now doing. If he's in dire need of help, it will not go over well that you broke into the hospital wing and refused to alert the other professors."

I nod, biting back a frustrated retort. "I can't speak to his mental state right now. He's probably still seething about his potion."

"I will not stop any punishment he deems necessary for that act," she says as we start toward the dungeons.

"Well, I don't see him really doing much to me considering I saved his bloody life." I look away from her. "Also, am I really supposed to be worried about a few vials of stolen potion when the headmaster seemed uncaring about the whole Umbridge thing? You told him about that too, didn't you?"

"I will not question Professor Dumbledore's judgment on that matter."

Finally, we stop at Snape's office door, and McGonagall knocks. She receives no answer and tries again, only to get the same result.

"Are you certain he was too weak to leave his office?"

"Absolutely." I then push the door open.

"Rodgers, you cannot just barge into his office!"

"I always do. He kind of begrudgingly accepts it now. I think if he actually hated it, he'd punish me for it."

McGonagall is about to say something, probably about how disrespectful it is of me to do that, when I hear, "Get out, Charlotte. I have neither the energy nor the patience to speak with you right now."

"Well, that's all fine and understandable, sir, but I'm not the one who wants to speak with you."

"I don't give a damn who—"

"Professor Snape," McGonagall says, entering the office after me.

Snape sits leaning heavily back in his chair, looking pale and ill and weak. With great effort, he sits up straighter, glancing at McGonagall before his eyes dart to me. "You told her."

"What would you have me do, Professor?"

He stands to his feet, bracing against the desk. "I told you I would be fine after—" But he stops and takes a breath, then closes his eyes for a brief moment and sits back down. "It's temporary. You had no reason or right to speak of it with anyone."

"I thought—"

"I don't care what you thought!"

"Professor Snape!" McGonagall says, surprised. "This student helped you when you could have been seriously injured—"

"And that's not something I'm likely to forget, I assure you," he cuts her off. "But right now is not a good time. You may both leave."

As I retreat from his office, McGonagall not following me, I hear her say to him, "You should be resting. Why aren't you in bed?"