Not Dead Yet(You look like hell and you smell like death)
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3:
Not Dead Yet( You look like hell and you smell like death)
It was a stunning five hours before Pomfrey was able to step away from Severus, hands caked in blood and gripping her wand too tight. She was heaving out breaths, a sheen of sweat over her brow as she turned to Dumbledore with a glazed expression.
“He’s stabilized. I’ve sealed the major wounds that I could, but some of them were cursed and I had to take the muggle way, as you can see…the back is the worst, his spine was badly damaged. It remains to be seen if he will regain mobility. The tremors, I’m afraid I have no way of fixing those or the nerve damage, so little is known of the after effects of prolonged Cruciatus- In fact, I’m sure Severus himself would be the only one who knows enough to cook up a solution for it. The rest of his wounds will heal with time, as for his tongue…” she trails off, looking ashen and haunted. Remus had to look away when she pried Severus’ mouth open to remove the remains of the muscle…
And really, there were ways to regrow muscles, but Remus was almost certain that he’d been cursed against it. When Voldemort made statements, he made sure they stuck.
Sirius moved himself away from Remus slowly, blinking blearily. He’d fallen asleep after the first two hours, to nobody’s surprise. It always unsettled Remus how well he could sleep in any situation-but dozing off comfortably while a torture victim is being sewn back together in front of him was a new stretch. Remus was once again only a little bit surprised by his friend’s morbidity.
“So…will he be going to the Medical wing then? Or are we going to risk St. Mungo’s?”
Dumbledore exchanged an unreadable look with Pomfrey, who gave him the smallest of nods before she began wringing her hands.
“Severus is in no state to be going anywhere. Any type of movement would upset his injuries…no, he will remain here for the time being, under yourself and Remus’ care.”
Wait… What in the name of Merlin- Remus jolts to attention, tilting his head in confusion. Sirius looks affronted, mouth opening and closing dumbly.
“Wha-absolutely not! I will not have Snape of all people dirtying my sheets!”
“Sirius. You will do as has been said, without further complaint. And if I hear you have been mistreating him, the consequences will be dire. There is no other choice…this is the safest place for Severus to be either way, with the wards and all. I have no doubt they are currently seeking him out.” Dumbledore shuffles closer to Sirius, looking down at him as if daring him to fight back on this.
Sirius doesn’t, of course. He merely shrinks back, glaring at the floor and crossing his arms.
Remus swallows harshly. Sure, he’d been harboring a crush and was eternally grateful for what Severus had done for him, but this felt like a violation of the dour man’s boundaries. Two of his( arguably )least favorite people in the universe, tending to him in his horrid state…it was almost cruel. No, it was definitely cruel. But it was also the only option, Remus wholly agreed-too many risks involved.
Dumbledore turns to Remus, arching an eyebrow. Remus nods wordlessly, standing up and making his way over to Poppy. She seems to take a moment to notice him as she is zoning out, but when she does, she wastes no time at all. She grabs out a few vials, pressing them into his hands.
“You will give him these each hour, and check his wounds throughout the night. After this, I will return in the morning with a regime of potions and medicines you two will give him daily and nightly for his recovery. Am I clear?”
Remus nodded once again, branding every instruction given into his brain.
Blood replenishing by mouth, apply Dittany salves directly on wounds…
Remus tried not to feel too irritated by Sirius’ complete lack of diligence, the man just looking sour and grumpy about the arrangement while not listening to a word being said. Remus would likely be the only one doing any work between them both, as usual .
After Poppy had finished explaining everything and had him repeat it back to her, she gave them direct instructions to not move him for ANY reason. She left to wash her hands in the loo, then bade them farewell and entered the Floo.
Dumbledore heaved a sigh, glancing at them both with a wary look.
“I am aware that this is not a situation either of you want to be stuck in, but you are the only ones who are able and here in the moment. I am trusting you with this. No matter your grievances, Severus’ life is on the line. You caused him enough troubles as boys, here is your redemption.”
The white haired man gives them both a grim nod farewell, then makes his way to the fireplace and is gone in a flash of green.
Remus turns his tired eyes onto the body before him, uncorking a vial of the Blood replenishing potion. He transfigures the couch Severus is laid on into a large bed and transfigures a book into a chair to sit beside him.
He observes Severus, lifting his head and prying his lips open to pour the potion. He is a sickly, yellow ashen color, skin shining with sweat. His entire body is still shivering, but he looks almost peaceful in sleep.
Yeah, that’s not likely to last. Remus glances at Sirius, who is pacing the room with a furious expression.
…it is looking to be a long, long night.
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—- ”This will all end if you just tell me the truth, Severus.”
Silence.
Voldemort sighs exaggeratedly, head rolling. “Really now, you cannot be serious. You are practically begging me.”
A wordless Crucio, and Severus is flailing again, muscles, bones and nerves stretched and snapped and twisted and set aflame.
With how many times he’s been hit with the bloody curse, you’d think he’d grow some sort of immunity. But this is decidedly not the case as the pain flares, if anything, worse than other times. He has trained himself to keep awareness during these sessions, though it only lasts as long as his body can handle the pain.
Voldemort walks a circle around his convulsing form, before planting his foot on Severus’ chest. He clicks his tongue.
“This is pitiful. I already know that you are a traitor. You only have to say it, and you will be free.”
Severus chokes on his own saliva, lungs burning as the curse somehow twists his muscles tighter. Tears prick his eyes-no. If he’s going to die, it will be on his own terms. Or at least by the hands of literally anyone else than him -like, he’s pretty sure Dumbledore is going to wring his neck for this.
All it had taken was deflecting a curse on a raid. He’d been careful. He was so sure nobody had noticed, but of course Yaxley had been watching him from the sidelines…
Moody better be bloody grateful. He’d barely managed to cast a stunning spell at the Auror to fling him away from a Killing Curse cast by Avery. Immediately Yaxley had tackled him down, and it became rather clear to Severus that many in the troops had been out for him from the beginning. Ah, Death Eaters and Order members were not so different from one another in that aspect.
Since then, it had been relentless. Severus had hidden himself away behind his Occlumency shields and also just regular disassociation(which, when you mixed the two, was really quite effective), but this would leave him in just a shell of a body and the torture was worse when he didn’t react.
Voldemort presses his foot harder against his ribs, making breathing all the more difficult. Severus wheezes, wincing at the strain the Cruciatus wracks against his lungs. Voldemort leans forward, his flexibility making Severus’ own back ache a bit at the image.
“Say it. Say you're a bastard mudblood traitor.”
Severus grimaces. No, he doesn’t think he will.
After a moment of silence, Voldemort grits his teeth and kicks him onto his stomach before leaving him under the curse in favor of sitting on Avery’s armchair. He seems almost bored of the spasming man beneath him.
Severus inhales through his nose, his own teeth clenched against the ruthless pain. It engulfs him in a dance of knotting sinews and sparking nerves.
He blacks out ten minutes later.
When he comes to, it's due to Bellatrix straddling him and casting rennervate. His whole body pops awake like a firecracker, simply snapping into consciousness.
Bellatrix is Severus’ least favorite torturer. She makes sure he stays awake for literal hours as she slowly carves into him, sometimes with acid coated knives that melt the edges of his skin away…at least Greyback is quick about clawing his body till the blood loss takes over. Bellatrix is less privy to the blood, preferring the agonizing sloth.
Today she’s chosen a poisoned blade. It’s not even deadly, for fuck’s sake.
Severus chooses to occlude. He knows this is going to be worse in the long run, but yesterday(was it?)tested his limits quite severely. He begins organizing the shelves in his mind, envisioning rows and rows of bookshelves in a maze of a library. Mind Severus is pulling a book on Potion’s Theory out, flipping through the yellowed pages and taking in every word.
Then, a cold hand is holding his shoulder, and Severus jolts to reality.
Bellatrix is carving his chest, and he can hardly be blamed for the wet gasp that tears through his throat. He tries to back into his mind, but his hair is grabbed and he’s wrenched backwards. Voldemort is looking at him hazedly, red eyes almost dulled.
“There will be no hiding today, Severus. You will face the consequences of your silence.”
Severus closes his eyes. No, he wouldn’t like to do that at all-
Yellow, thick fingernails are forcing his eyes open, and pushing his shields immediately. He tries to steer him off course, mindself tugging out books and reading the lines frantically-
Bookshelves are crashing down, a powerful gust of wind swiping books and ripping them apart. His mindself is racing away, hopping over the downed shelves in an attempt to remain unscathed-
A monstrous clawed hand is snatching him upward, and his mindself squirms and punches the hand without avail. He risks a look upwards despite knowing what he will find-which is Voldemort, but a massive giant of the man. He is smirking gleefully at him, bringing him closer and closer until they are meeting eyes.
“You cannot hide forever, Severus.”
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Sirius is not thrilled about this. Not one bit.
He had paced for a good three hours before Remus snapped at him-
“If you're so restless, you take over!”
Remus was stressed, and Sirius could hardly blame the Lycanthrope. The mousy haired man was always too caring for his own good, and he knew for a fact that he had even begun to take a liking to Snivellus( which he was NOT bitter or upset about, at all!) during his time as DADA professor. Although Sirius could not for the life of him understand why Remus STILL held on to those affections after the snake had ratted him out and got him fired.
No, his friend made no sense at all.
Sirius turns to observe the unconscious Slytherin beside him. Remus had retired, and that was fine by him. He looked quite worn out by everything…Sirius was as well, but he had gotten a good nap in when Poppy had been working on Snivellus.
Speaking of…the lanky man looked worse off for wear. He had a minute or two before he had to pour the damn potion down his throat, though Sirius was relieved Remus had applied the dittany before heading to bed. Small mercies.
Snape’s stringy hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead( fever? )and his eyebrows were knit together. Likely having a nightmare. Not shocking in the least.
What did he think being a Death Eater would entail?
Sirius shakes his head, digging through the tray that Remus had placed Poppy’s potions on. He grabs up the red vial and moves to grab Snape’s jaw, tilting it back.
He cringes when he forces his lips open with his fingers, stomach churning at the unsettling void that remains. Having no tongue makes it quite an eerie sight…it's almost fascinating, but Sirius has no time to dwell on his own morbid thoughts. He uncorks the vial with the press of his thumb, then tilts it so the potion oozes out and dribbles down his throat. Sirius sets the vial down and begins massaging his throat to ensure it is swallowed correctly, then he withdraws-
Snape is breathing shallowly, eyes twitching underneath the lids. Sirius grimaces, settling himself onto the chair to observe him.
He is definitely having a nightmare, by the gritting of his teeth and set of his jaw and the flinching action of his closed eyes. More sweat slides down his forehead, a distressed keen slipping through his lips. Sirius wishes the noise had no effect on him, but anyone in his position…
Sirius huffs, skimming through the vials. He finds some Dreamless Sleep, and sets to work. He uncaps it, and pries Snivellus’ thin lips open once again to pour it into the abyss.
As soon as Sirius is sitting back down, Snape’s breaths even out and he appears more relaxed.
Good. One less thing to deal with.
Sirius watches him warily…Snape is thin. He always was quite malnourished, and sickly, but this situation has made it abundantly clear that it can always be worse.
Sirius isn’t a fan, if he’s being honest. Maybe he should be, but he isn't.
He’d prefer his rival to be healthier. He feels no great satisfaction at him being in this position.
He chooses not to evaluate this further.