Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Hey there everyone. Thank you so much for the awesome reviews. I'm really glad you liked that last chapter. I love the guesses and speculation as to why Harry isn't waking up. You'll find out a lot more about that in this chapter.

Now, I'm going to do something which I hope you find interesting. I'm going to bring in a character that will be familiar to readers of my other story, Keep Holding On. This character has become headcanon to me, and I find him fascinating to write. He's going to play a role in this story as well. I'll give you a hint: he works at Saint Mungo's.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

xxxxxxxxxx

The corridors were silent as Severus Snape made his way to the hospital wing, his black robes billowing behind him. He knew that dawn had only just broken, so why, exactly, he was doing this, he did not know. All he knew was that he hadn't slept a wink the night before, and he felt so incredibly cold inside. Every time he'd closed his eyes, Dumbledore's words had haunted him. He really and truly wanted Snape to look out for Potter.

For years, he had fooled himself into believing that all he would have to do for the idiot boy was save his neck when the Dark Lord came to call again. For so long, he had dreaded the day when the child set foot in Hogwarts. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing Harry Potter enter the castle's hallowed halls. He'd be just as arrogant, just as foolhardy, just as much of a daredevil as his horrid father. It was so cruel and unjust that he had Lily's eyes. Severus despised the thought of his own eyes ever meeting Potter's.

And then, when the child had shown up at his first-year Welcoming Feast, it had been just as terrible as Severus had ever imagined. He couldn't look at him during the Sorting - he just couldn't. He was standing next to a boy with red hair and freckles - undoubtedly yet another Weasley. And when Potter had put the Sorting Hat on his head and it had bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!" Severus felt a vindictive kind of glee wash through him. Of course he was a Gryffindor. Of course he was just like his bloody father. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him, Lily was a Gryffindor too. He squashed the voice down until all he could feel was spite and hatred. When the boy had deigned to look at him with those eyes that made Snape think of summer days spent lying in fresh grass and daydreaming about a future with his very best friend in the world, the hatred only grew bigger. To have those eyes connected to that face ... it was truly loathsome.

And then, in Potions class, that little snotrag had spoken back to him. The flashbacks to his Hogwarts days were so enormously vivid that his detestation of the boy only grew. "You see what you expected to see." Dumbledore had not been at all impressed by Severus's ranting about the boy. The look on his face had been rather forbidding, and a part of Snape, the part that had always been intimidated by the old man, quailed at the cold response.

And then, there had been everything that had followed, all the incidents over the years that had reinforced Snape's belief that the boy was just like his father. He couldn't understand how all the other teachers thought of him as a curious, engaging child who did well in all of his classes. Granted, they'd make a comment or two about how trouble always followed him, but they'd say it with worry and concern. The worst had been Remus Lupin, who Snape had caught smiling softly on many an occasion, and he knew the vile wolf was thinking about Potter. It was pathetic. The man was nothing more than a spineless worm who missed the old days of doing nothing while his friends made Snape's life a living hell.

But then, there had been this year. It was such a jumble of mixed emotions that Snape didn't even know where to begin - and it had all led to this moment. Snape was walking towards the hospital wing in the dawn light, not even twenty-four hours after the life-changing moment when his double life ended for good and all the planning he'd done for the moment the Dark Lord returned to power was all for naught. Once again, he had put everything on the line for Harry Potter. That insane instinct that drove him to save Potter each and every time he landed in trouble had called to him, and like some kind of simpleton, he heeded it.

You know exactly why you did it, Severus. And you would do it again. In fact, you're doing it again right now. That voice that had never failed to cause him torment was whispering in his ear again. It was the voice of his conscience, the voice that he held onto even when he despised hearing it. It was the voice of a woman who had controlled almost his entire life without knowing she did so. She was the only reason his heart still beat at all. His soul clung to her like a drowning man clung to a life preserver. She had been the only one to ever care about him, the only one who mattered. Even now, as he approached the hospital wing, a part of him longed for her voice to keep ringing inside his head.

Quietly, Snape opened the doors of the hospital wing and walked inside. He half-expected Potter's friends to be there, sitting by his bedside. The part of him that wished to rear its head whenever Potter was around wanted to give them the tongue-lashing of a lifetime.

But do you really want to do that? They haven't done anything to earn it, Lily's damnable voice spoke inside his head again. They haven't caused a scene or gotten in Madam Pomfrey's way.

It turned out that Potter's friends weren't there. Apparently, even they knew better than to be in the hospital wing at this hour. Snape knew, however, that they would turn up sooner rather than later. All three of them were completely devoted to the boy.

The recent addition of Longbottom to Potter's little group had been a surprise to Severus, yet it hadn't been one at all. He had thought that Longbottom was way too quiet for the likes of Potter - Weasley was a brash, noisy imbecile while Granger flaunted her knowledge to all and sundry. Surely Potter was too good for that walking disaster Longbottom? Why would that daredevil want anything to do with him? Yet, it hadn't really been a shock at all when Longbottom started hanging around with their group.

Potter was still fast asleep. It was true that Severus hadn't been back at the hospital wing since the evening before, when Albus had broken the news to Potter's friends that the boy wasn't waking up. Therefore, he didn't know for sure that the child hadn't awoken during the night, but he had a strong feeling he hadn't. If, in a few hours' time, the boy was still asleep, a Healer from Saint Mungo's would be called.

Much to his chagrin, Snape couldn't quash the niggling concern that had entered his mind the moment the Dreamless Sleep potion wore off and Potter hadn't woken up. He, Minerva, Poppy, and Albus had speculated and pondered on why this had occurred, and it had been Albus, in his calm, rational manner, that had brought up a possibility that caused guilt to crawl inside of Severus. "It seems as though the poor child was not coping well with recent events," he'd said in a sad, somber tone, the one that always grated on Snape and caused so much negative emotion to swim through him. And Merlin, he despised how the Headmaster's eyes swivelled to him in that moment, the look in them horribly accusatory. This is partly your doing, Severus. You could have helped the boy, and things would not have come to this. He didn't say those words, but Severus could feel them in the air.

"What does that have to do with Potter's current condition?" Severus had snapped, unwilling to give in to what Albus was implying. "You have already established that the Dementor did not inflict its Kiss upon him."

Don't think of the Patronus. Don't think of the Patronus. It was a struggle for Snape to obey his mind and not fixate on the fact that he had changed everything by casting that silver doe. No doubt the whole bloody school would be up in arms about it by nightfall. Merlin, how he longed to get away from the snot-nosed hoodlums who would be discussing him like he was the latest wizarding band to grace the world with its simple-minded, revolting tunes.

"I think Albus may be right, Severus. We can only speculate, but while he was here after his poisoning, I did not like what I saw." Madam Pomfrey also gave Snape a withering look. "I explained to you that he had shocking nightmares the last few nights he was here. And I did not like his apathy towards everything around him. Even his friends couldn't inspire the positive emotions I used to see in him when he was here before."

"What are you implying?" Snape snarled at her, his nostrils flaring. "That Potter is somehow refusing to wake up because he does not wish to deal with the real world?"

McGonagall glowered at Severus, her hackles raised like a lion defending its cub. "Do not speak of Mr. Potter in that fashion. I am sick and tired of your constant need to belittle that child."

"Minerva. Severus. We are in a hospital wing." Albus's voice was uncompromising, and Minerva looked at him like a kicked puppy. Her face softened as she stared down at Potter, who had slept through this entire altercation, completely clueless to all of it. He might as well be a marble statue - there hadn't even been a twitch out of him.

Snape closed his eyes. His mind churned with too many thoughts. He clung onto one that was familiar - of course the boy had to be so melodramatic and cause worry and confusion by not waking up. Potter could never do things normally, could he? He always had to be the center of attention. Never mind that Snape had given up everything and now couldn't do the work that he'd planned to do for over a decade. Potter just had to ruin everything. He always had to make it all about him. Minerva, Poppy, and Albus were at his beck and call, their faces creased with worry. Of course the stupid boy had to be an anomaly. It was so typical. So bloody typical.

So why, now, in the light of dawn, was he here again, in the hospital wing, at the boy's beck and call himself? You know that's not true, Severus. That boy did not call you. Nor did he call myself, Poppy, or Minerva. This time, it was Albus's voice who spoke in his head.

"Good morning, Severus."

Snape looked up, startled, to see the real Albus Dumbledore himself walking towards him, his midnight blue robes swishing before him. "I am very glad to see you here."

It took everything in him for Snape not to snarl at the old man. There was pride in his tone, and Snape understood what the Headmaster was not saying. You can deny it all you want, but you do care about the boy. You feel responsible for what happened yesterday, and you feel guilty that you might have contributed to the child's current state.

Snape breathed through his nose, and firmed up his Occlumency barriers. Today, of all days, he would not allow the foolish old man to conjure up unnecessary emotions. "I take it the boy did not awaken during the night?" he asked in a monotone.

"No, I'm afraid not." Dumbledore gently touched the boy's hand, his expression full of concern as he stared into Potter's face. "I have been Flooing Poppy throughout the night. I know it is inadvisable for us to do so, but both of us embibed the potion for wakefulness so that we could be alert if Harry needed us."

Severus understood very well what that potion did. One night of taking it wouldn't pose too much of a problem, but if it kept being taken, the long-term effects would be very unpleasant indeed. A human body needed a certain amount of rest. Aurors were known to take it on occasions when they were on missions, and Merlin knew the Dark Lord got a kick out of forcing disobedient Death Eaters to swallow it night after night, causing them to act even more deranged than normal, which was saying a lot. Madam Pomfrey, being the only Healer in this school, would take it when a patient was not doing well and they might need her at any moment.

There had been no need for Albus to take it, but of course, Potter inspired that kind of devotion in the Headmaster. Would he do that for any other student? Severus doubted it. Once again, disparaging thoughts began to surface in his mind, but one look at Albus's face and the guilt surfaced again, buffeting him on all sides with its intensity. Staring at the child's closed eyes did not help alleviate it one bit - in fact, that only caused it to grow stronger.

Both men sat in silence for several minutes, the only sound in the room that of Potter's slow, deep breathing. Eventually, Albus said, "I know that you are very concerned for Mr. Malfoy, as well. Poppy told me that she was very hesitant to release him last night. I must say, Severus, that I am very proud of you for taking the first step and discussing things with him. I commend you - it must have been a very difficult conversation."

"How do you know I spoke with him?" Severus demanded, a familiar defensiveness creeping into his tone. Merlin, he despised when Albus said he was proud of him even more than when he conveyed his disappointment.

"Poppy is an experienced Healer, Severus. She knows when someone has gone through a shock. Mr. Malfoy's mannerisms upon his release last night proved that he is going through a world of confusion. With the way he has been raised and the changes that have befallen him this year, Severus, his behavior is completely understandable. He needs your guidance more than ever, child. Yesterday was only the first conversation of many that will help him down the right path, I am sure. With you to mentor him, I have faith that he will make the right choices."

"Your faith in me is misplaced, old man," Severus sneered. "I do not understand why you are so sure I can help him."

"It is your lack of belief in yourself that is misplaced, Severus." Dumbledore's voice was gentle. "I do wish that you would recognize the good I see in you."

Good? Good? The old man was insane. "You disgust me." He could still remember the cold words from years past as Dumbledore the Almighty looked down upon him, the lowly mortal, with that unforgiving gaze. Now he was saying there was good in him? How did he do it? How did Dumbledore always manage to stir up such strong feelings inside him? How did he not understand that Severus Snape could never forgive himself for the wrongs he had done? How did he not accept that Severus would never see any good in himself? Hadn't he proven himself a tainted, wretched creature with no moral compass and no redeeming qualities whatsoever?

xxx

It was time.

It was several hours later and the boy still hadn't awoken. His eyelids didn't flutter - he didn't move one muscle. Nothing had changed in close to twenty-four hours. Severus could see the worry lines creasing Poppy and Albus's faces as Poppy flooed Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

And Potter's friends had arrived. It was obvious that none of them had slept. Weasley looked like he was on the verge of snapping at anyone who looked at him the wrong way. Granger's hands were shaky and she looked like she could burst into tears at the drop of a hat. Longbottom's face was pale and he was silent as a mouse. All three of them looked bedraggled, but none of them seemed to care as they sat in chairs by Potter's bedside. Granger was holding his hand, Longbottom was quietly speaking to him, and Weasley's fists were clenched at his sides, the worry in his blue eyes so naked and obvious that it was practically screaming out at everyone.

Snape knew he could have left the room. Why did he need to be involved with whatever treatment the Healers came up with? What business was it of his? Potter wasn't in his House. It was Minerva who should be told everything that was happening.

But yet, he was still here, sitting next to Minerva as the Floo call was made. Albus had not told him to leave - if anything, the look he gave him was one of approval. That almost got Severus to exit the room right then and there, but he didn't.

Several minutes later, two Healers stepped out of the fireplace. One of them was a woman whose mannerisms very much reminded Severus of Poppy. She was very brisk and no-nonsense, and she did not waste any time in going to Potter's bedside.

The second Healer was a man who professed to be a Mind Healer. Severus had heard of him through many anecdotes from staff. He was a young man who had graduated from Hogwarts in 1980. Arnold Dixon had been considered antisocial by many of his peers, some outright calling him names, but the boy hadn't seemed to care. He drank in knowledge like it was water and he was in the desert. In the staffroom, many of the teachers spoke of him with glowing praise. Madam Pince had said that he could always be found in the library poring over books.

It wasn't at all a surprise to many that he'd gone into the Mind Arts. He was said to be exceedingly proficient in both Occlumency and Legilimency, and his success rate of healing his patients was astronomical. If you were taken care of by Healer Arnold Dixon, you were sure to recover.

Only the best for Potter. The familiar feelings of envy and spite did not last long in Severus's mind this time, which caught him by surprise. It was normally so easy to latch onto anything that would distract him from the pain and guilt that tried to drown him upon seeing the boy. This time, however, it wouldn't stick. If Healer Dixon was here, it could be something very serious. Albus hadn't asked for him, after all - Saint Mungo's had been the one to send him.

Severus and Minerva stayed in Poppy's office, neither speaking a word, while both Healers went to Potter's bedside and Albus was heard speaking quietly with the boy's friends. It was obvious that they hadn't been thrilled when asked to leave the boy's side while the Healers looked at him, but they didn't put up a fuss, as Albus allowed them to sit in chairs in an unoccupied part of the wing. "I promise to keep you updated on how Harry is faring," he reassured them gently. "Healers Fields and Dixon require the space to properly look at him. I understand that you do not wish to go anywhere, and that you want to support your friend. So I will not force you to leave. Is there anything you would like while you wait? You are missing breakfast in the Great Hall."

All three of them had refused any food or drink, and Albus didn't force the issue. Severus noticed that he didn't say anything about them having to go to class this morning either. Severus couldn't bring himself to confront them about it, just like he hadn't on the day Potter was poisoned.

"Are you okay, Severus?" Minerva's voice was concerned and she was staring at him with an all-too-knowing gaze. It was too much like Albus's, and Severus's hackles rose.

"I'm fine, Minerva," he snapped. "The boy is receiving the best of care, as he always does. I am sure the Healers will find a solution in no time, and the boy will be back amongst us once again."

"Your act is not working, Severus." Minerva was looking at him, her gaze gentler than he had ever seen it in all the years of knowing her. "I owe you an apology," she said quietly.

"And what, pray tell, do you wish to apologize for?" Severus hissed, his skin crawling with a thousand sensations he didn't want to acknowledge. "And keep your voice down."

"If you had been paying attention, you would have seen that I cast a Silencing Charm around us. Mr. Potter's friends do not need to hear this." Minerva was smiling at him, and Severus wanted nothing more than to run and never look back, so why was he rooted to the spot? "I am sorry for my conduct towards you last night, and so many other times before that," she said quietly. "I had not properly considered all that you went through yesterday. Albus and I spoke shortly after our altercation."

"Oh, you did, did you?" Severus's black eyes bored into Minerva's, but she did not flinch or turn away. "I'm sure you had a session of incredible psychoanalysis," he sneered. "It's what you do best, after all."

Minerva still didn't rise to the bait. "I thought I understood, at the end of the war," she said softly. "But I never really did. There's still a lot about you I don't understand, Severus. Even now, you try so hard to act like you despise Harry. I know there are many complicated feelings that the boy dredges up inside you, through no fault of his own. Your conduct towards him in the past has been truly deplorable, Severus, as he never did anything to warrant it. You were never able to look past your own issues to see him for the child he truly is."

"Will this sermon end anytime soon, Minerva? I am in no mood for it," Snape snarled at her, rising to his feet.

He expected Minerva to pounce on him like she'd done in the past, all glares and hisses and sharp words. But this time, her voice remained soft. "I think, however, that you are beginning to understand now," she went on. "Why would it be that after that confrontation with Potter that I am sure was about the Philosopher's Stone, you came to me? At first, I didn't really understand it at all. I had a strange suspicion, but I couldn't really put it together. It made sense, but it didn't. I'm still furious with the damage you caused the child that night. But you came to me, Severus. Why else would you come to me late at night like you did? I think you really were angry on the boy's behalf. I did not believe him about the Stone, and he felt the need to put himself in danger."

Snape's skin prickled all over. His face flushed hotly as he gave Minerva a glare so cold that icicles were practically filling the room with frozen air. Minerva glared right back at him, not budging an inch. The tension was so thick in the room that it could be cut with a knife.

"I suggest, Minerva," Severus said in a low hiss, "that you never speak of such things again. Am I understood?"

"Yes." The triumphant expression Minerva wore on her face, like she'd won a game the two of them had been playing, was too much - he looked away, unable to meet her gaze for another second.

Neither of them said another word as the minutes dragged on. He didn't know what Albus and Poppy were doing, or what the Healers were finding. Severus saw Minerva undo the Silencing Charm, and Merlin, was he glad for it. There was no noise from Potter's friends, either, but Severus swore he could feel their anxiety radiating through the wing.

It felt like hours before Severus heard Albus speaking quietly with Potter's friends. Poppy came walking over to Minerva and Severus. "The Healers would like to speak with you," she said quietly, and Severus saw the saddened and concerned expression she wore. It seemed as though the Healers had sussed out what was wrong with Potter, and apparently, they were all to go to his bedside.

And Severus did. He knew he was only adding to Albus and Minerva's stupid notions, but he had to know. Merlin above, he was feeling concerned himself. For once, no bitter thoughts consumed him as he laid eyes on the sleeping boy. He had a flashback to the moment Potter had awoken from being poisoned, and the strange feelings that blossomed inside him when the boy had said quietly, "It hurts."

The moment that all of them were sitting in chairs, Granger couldn't hold back any longer. Her wide, frightened brown eyes looked at the two Healers. "What's wrong?" she asked in a small, childlike voice. "What's wrong with Harry?"

Healer Dixon straightened, his tone all business as he spoke. "Healer Fields's scans were turning up the same results as Madam Pomfrey's. She could find nothing wrong with him. All his vital signs are normal - temperature, blood pressure, heartbeat, oxygen level. But we knew that things were not normal, and this is where I came in.

"Healers do not like to do this without their patients' permission, but the situation was such that it could not be avoided. I looked inside his mind with Legilimency."

Granger's eyes widened, while Weasley and Longbottom just looked confused. It did not surprise Severus in the slightest that Granger would be familiar with such a term. "What ... what do you mean?" Weasley asked. "What do you mean, you looked into his mind? What's Legili-something?"

Snape almost snorted at the boy's utter childishness as Dixon calmly explained what the Mind Arts were. Longbottom looked both intrigued and horrified while Weasley looked just plain scared and desperate. "What did you find? Do you know what's wrong with him?" Severus could tell that the boy was panicking - his questions came out in a rush.

"There is no other word for it." Dixon spoke very seriously. "It's pure chaos inside his mind. That child has been dealing with a lot, and he hasn't been handling it well. Has no one seen to this child's well-being?"

Granger burst into tears. In the past, Severus would have sneered at the silly little girl for her public display of emotion. How incredibly pathetic that she couldn't keep herself under control. How dare she cause a scene like this!

But Severus found himself listening to her words. "He wouldn't talk to us!" The hurt and desperation in her voice were all too clear. "We're his best friends! We were always asking if he was okay and he wouldn't tell us anything!"

Albus laid a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder. "It is all right, Hermione. Take some deep breaths for me," he said gently while Madam Pomfrey bustled away, most likely to retrieve a Calming Potion. Severus was right, as moments later she returned and handed it to the girl. She had also retrieved two vials for Longbottom and Weasley as well. Longbottom accepted his immediately, while Granger and Weasley took some persuading.

Snape could see when the potion took effect. Granger wiped her eyes and sniffled. "Sorry," she murmured. "I ... what do we do to fix this? Is Harry's mind not letting him wake up?"

"That boy has kept things bottled up inside for way too long. I understand that a Dementor came very close to Kissing him yesterday," Healer Dixon said somberly. "Can you explain what happened? I understand that you were there." His eyes fell on Severus.

Severus shut all of his emotions behind tight barriers. Merlin, why was Dixon calling on him to explain what happened? He despised the way Albus was staring at him encouragingly. The eyes of Minerva weren't any better. And even bloody Poppy was counting on him, too. Albus could have butted in and told the story, but it was obvious he wasn't going to.

So, once again, Severus was doing something that was the last thing he ever wanted to do. "Potter became proficient at casting a Patronus last year," he said in a monotone. "He reacted ... rather harshly to the Dementors posted around this castle."

"A corporeal Patronus?" Healer Fields was flabbergasted. "And the boy is ... fourteen years old?"

"He was thirteen when he learned," Albus interjected proudly. "Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher last year taught him how to produce one."

Of course, he just had to bring Lupin into this, Snape thought sourly as Albus looked at him, his eyes telling him to continue the tale. "Yesterday, he attempted to produce it again when the Dementors invaded the Ministry atrium. He did not succeed, and I had to step in. The Dementor was moments away from Kissing him." For some inexplicable reason, Severus couldn't explain how the boy's wand had fallen from his limp fingers, the way he'd collapsed bonelessly to the ground, completely giving up. For a moment, he'd looked ... relieved. He'd wanted that damned Dementor to take him. And that had been the moment that Severus had sprung into action.

But he didn't need to tell Dixon any such thing. "He gave up, didn't he?" The Healer's words were spoken softly.

"Harry would never give up!" Weasley's exclamation seemed to rock the foundations of the hospital wing. "How dare you say such a thing!" There was raw hurt in his voice. Even the influence of the Calming Potion was not enough to stop the horrified words from escaping. Merlin knew what he would have said if he hadn't embibed it at all.

Healer Dixon looked at all of them, his eyes incredibly sad in that moment. "Mr. Potter has locked himself inside of his own mind. He has received one shock too many. The Dementor was the last straw, and that is why he isn't waking up." The Healer's words were full of blunt honesty.

"This is all my fault." Longbottom whispered the words. "I knew he wasn't doing well. I did everything I could for him, but it obviously wasn't enough. This is all my fault," he lamented.

Snape, on a normal day, would have sneered at Longbottom to quit spouting such melodrama, but he couldn't because an icy hand was clenching at his heart. He remembered when the boy had asked for his attention and he'd deliberately pushed him away, snarling about how Potter had been so stupid not to realize that he shouldn't have gone after the Philosopher's Stone and that the adults actually knew what they were doing. He hadn't said the words, but he'd told Potter that, for all intents and purposes, it was his fault that Quirrell was dead. He remembered the look of stark horror on Potter's face and he'd sneered at him. Potter had stared at him with haunted green eyes and Snape, unable to bear the stare, had turned away.

Then, he recalled an earlier time, when he'd found Potter collapsed in the corridor and only his potion to cure catatonia had brought him round. He remembered the way Potter had behaved in his quarters that night - so unlike the person he normally was. "Act normal!" The boy's desperate plea the next morning, his utter confusion and desperation at Snape's sudden civil attitude ... Dumbledore's words from their conversation that morning came back to him, asking for him to please get to know the child and to stop seeing him as his father.

And Snape had known. His instincts had told him over and over again this year that things were not as they should be. That damned detention came back to him, the one in which he'd seen Potter clean cauldrons like he was actually used to being put to work like this. He recalled that the boy didn't complain once. James Potter - hell, Draco bloody Malfoy - would have moaned and groaned, claiming how unfair it all was. Harry Potter had done no such thing.

Snape was so lost in flashbacks and memories that when Healer Dixon spoke again, his voice seemed to come from very far away. "Blaming yourself will not help him." There was a sudden sharpness in his voice that reminded Severus very much of Dumbledore. The tone caused Longbottom to stop his lament, his eyes wide. Granger's eyes were sparkling with tears again, and Weasley looked completely frozen with horror and guilt of his own.

"What ... what can we do to help him? Is there anything we can do to bring him out of this?" Granger's voice was tiny now. "Please, Healer Dixon. Please tell us what to do."

"There is hope, Miss Granger. There is always hope." Healer Dixon's voice was now gentle again. "What he needs now is for you to spend as much time with him as you can. The best thing you can do is be there for him. Reassure him. Talk to him. Even the little things count - the things that don't seem important. Tell him about your day. Tell him the most mundane things, and that still will help him."

"But he's asleep," Weasley said, shaking his head. "He can't hear us, can he?"

"I think that he can," Dixon disagreed. "He cannot respond to you right now, because he is tightly locked in his mind. But I firmly believe that if you speak to him, he will be able to hear you. Physical contact will also help - touching his shoulder, or, as you are currently doing, Miss Granger, taking his hand."

As Snape listened, he felt a surge of relief. It looked like it was purely up to Potter's friends to bring him out of this. There was no way that Snape would be able to help him. It would only hinder Potter's progress if he hung around.

"How long will it take?" Longbottom asked, his voice still full of guilt. "How long will it take for Harry to wake up if we spend time with him every day?"

"That, I don't know." Dixon shook his head. "It may be a few days. It may be a week. It may be even longer. But you need to be patient with him. Telling him to hurry up, or showing any level of impatience, will only hurt him. He needs reassurance right now - he needs to know that he is cared for. I will come and check on him in a few days' time. I will need to go into his mind again so I can see how he is faring." He looked very seriously at Potter's friends. "Can you do that for me?"

"We'll do anything if it makes Harry better," Granger said instantly, and Weasley and Longbottom, without hesitation, nodded their heads.

"Good." Dixon nodded, turning to Albus. "Can they be excused from classes, at least for today?" he asked.

"Yes, they can. I will inform all of their teachers," Dumbledore replied, and Severus could see that he had been deeply affected by the Healer's words. Severus, himself, was still feeling that icy hand of guilt grip him, but he knew that Potter would be in good hands now. He'd hurt the boy enough, hadn't he? He didn't need to be around him anymore - that point had been proven.

Dumbledore gently patted the shoulders of each of Potter's friends. "It will be all right," he said reassuringly before getting up from his chair. Severus, Poppy, and Minerva stood up too, and Severus could see that Potter's Head of House did not look well herself. She, too, was horrified by the turn events had taken.

Once the adults had left Potter's friends at the boy's bedside, Healer Fields bade them goodbye and Flooed back to Saint Mungo's. Healer Dixon did not leave, however. "I need to speak with all four of you separately," he said, and there was something in his tone now that somehow froze the blood in Severus's veins. "You first, Severus," he said before pointing at Madam Pomfrey's office.

As Poppy, Minerva, and Dumbledore looked on, Severus walked into the office and Dixon shut the door behind him, casting a Silencing Charm as he did so. Why was it, Snape reflected, that he suddenly felt like a Dementor was taking up this entire room and that no Patronus would work against it?

"Severus Snape." The use of his name by Healer Dixon sounded, in itself, like a condemnation from a God. He had thought that only Albus Dumbledore could cause such awful feelings to surface within him. Right at this moment, he'd found out that this supposition was very, very wrong.

"You will be at that boy's bedside every single day." It was a command. He was not suggesting such a thing nor asking nicely; he was telling him so in no uncertain terms.

"Why, pray tell?" Severus adopted the same stance that he normally used on Dumbledore when the old man was up to his usual tricks.

"I will tell you why." The room grew even colder as Dixon never took his eyes from Severus's. "Because there is no corner of that boy's mind that you do not occupy."

That frozen, icy hand gripped Severus's heart again, strangling him, suffocating him. He could only gape at Healer Dixon, suddenly unable to speak at all.

"You are everywhere, Severus. Everywhere in that boy's thoughts and memories. Everywhere." With every repetition of that word, Severus's heart raced faster. "You are truly what will help him now. His memories of you are ... most of them are very unpleasant. But the last thing he recalls is seeing your silver doe." He skewered Snape with a stare that could end worlds. "Potter's friends will care for him. They will be there for him, and show him the kindness he deserves."

There were a few seconds of terrible, profound silence before Dixon spoke his last words. "But you, Severus Snape, will fix what you broke."

And with that, he waved a dismissive hand, leaving Severus Snape feeling like nothing more than a crumpled, shaken mess.