Buttercup(She’ll be fine on her own)
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4:
Buttercup(She’ll be fine on her own)
The day had started out rather badly for Draco Malfoy, if he was being honest.
The beginning of the school year was rocky as it was, with the new, toad-like professor. Draco found her to be entirely too garish and unfit to have the position whatsoever.
It was the morning of the first day that he was called to the Headmaster’s office. It wasn’t very subtle at all either, as Dumbledore had literally walked over to the Slytherin table as soon as Draco had sat down and was led away.
Being called to the office was never a good thing. It likely meant he was in trouble, or had been witness to trouble, and his dad would find out and be disappointed, or uncle Severus would be disappointed, or his mother would be disappointed. Either way, someone was going to be disappointed.
At this thought, Draco wonders where Severus is. He wasn’t at the beginning of the year feast, nor was he at the table that morning.
Probably just preoccupied.
Dumbledore is muttering his password, and the office opens in a spire. Draco watches it with an exhausted, slightly agitated look. He hadn’t done anything. If any of his idiotic housemates had, then that was hardly his issue.
He walks up the steps quietly, his frustration building as Dumbledore remains quiet as well. The old git never wasted a moment talking anyone’s ear off regardless of the circumstance, although Draco is sure that it’s likely due to him being a Slytherin. Yeah, the Headmaster tended to pretend his house didn’t exist.
That’s what made Severus all the better in his eyes. He didn’t care for empty pleasantries or fickle caring notions. He was blunt and he spoke his mind, but he also looked out for his house. He wasn’t cruel or cold as others painted him out to be, he was just strict. Really, he was even less strict than most Pureblood parents whose kids were in the house anyway. It was familiar. He didn’t withstand discrimination, and he knew that his charges needed wins occasionally. They hardly got them, as most people agreed to what Dumbledore did, and just ignored their existence.
Even with the weight of his house, Severus would ensure(albeit in a quiet, private space)that everyone would remember that they were kids. They didn’t have to worry about responsibilities quite yet, and they could be kids no matter what their parents told them.
Draco was privy to this rule. He knew he was a snob, he would own that.
Really, it was all he had.
Dumbledore leads him into the office space, gesturing for Draco to sit.
“Licorice snap?” he offers gently. Draco grimaces, looking at the candies as if they had personally offended him.
“Absolutely not.”
Dumbledore’s unusually stony expression flickers slightly at that as he takes a seat.
Honestly, it was perturbing that he was being so quiet. Draco began feeling a tad anxious…what was happening…?
“Headmaster…what is this about?”
Draco didn’t have to be a genius to recognize the glint of sorrow in Dumbledore’s eye.
His chest feels heavy.
“Is this about uncl-is this about Professor Snape?”
Dumbledore’s eyebrows knit at that, but he shakes his head. “No, although you should know he will be unable to teach…this year.”
Draco swallows harshly.
“...why?”
Dumbledore pointedly avoids his eyes, looking down at his kneaded hands. “Severus has been injured gravely.”
Draco’s heart twists unpleasantly. No, not him-
“He’s okay-” Dumbledore assures him quickly. “He is in recovery, although some of his injuries are going to be permanent. But either way, that is not why I have summoned you.”
The blonde boy is unsure what could possibly be worse than his uncle Severus being hurt badly enough to knock him out of teaching for the year, but he prepares himself anyway. He sits up straighter, meeting Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes as he grits his teeth, eyebrows twisting in confusion.
Dumbledore takes a heaving breath, closing his eyes for a minute before sitting straighter.
“Last night, Severus was apparated at the door of…one of my colleagues’ home. He was gravely injured, but he was saveable. The only reason he is alive is…” he pauses.
Draco swallows harshly. He begins to feel a deep sense of foreboding. It shouldn’t be difficult for the Headmaster to say anything to him. No news could possibly be grave enough to have Albus bloody Dumbledore struggling to speak, especially when the news is for him.
No news.
Nothing could be worse.
“Your mother.”
Draco freezes.
“Draco…your mother saved Severus from Voldemort. She…she was dead before she even appeared.”
“I’m so sorry.”
…
Draco’s world falls apart.
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—-”Severus.”
No. No more.
A wave of electrocution surges through his body at his lack of response. Someone is screaming.
They’d moved on from Crucio, after he stopped reacting. They still used it, just mixed it with other components.
No, the electric shock had been Avery’s idea. Voldemort decided to join in on this session.
When the wave dies down, Severus smells burnt skin and tastes a copper in his mouth.
Voldemort walks over to him, fingers stretching through his hair almost kindly before gripping it up in his fist and jerking his head upward. Severus finds it difficult to focus his eyes on him, stomach and mind roiling while playing catch-up.
“Tell me what you are, Severus.”
No.
His head is slammed against the floor. Uh oh, Voldy’s losing his composure.
His head is wrenched up again, and he’s a mere inch from Voldemort’s pearly skinned face.
“Say. It.”
No.
Voldemort slaps him, and he rolls onto the floor again.
“Again!”
Severus’ body convulses in the shocks that emit from Avery’s wand. The man walks closer to his writhing body, replacing his wand with a…cattle prod. Nice.
Much more physical.
He’s kicked onto his back, and Avery pins the prod into the middle of chest. The shock has him yelping, back arching almost demonically from the cold ground.
This continues for five minutes, and Severus vomits the moment Avery takes the offensive metal off of him. It’s just bile, acidic and acrid as it splatters underneath him.
Severus feels tears running down his cheeks as he trembles and heaves. Then, the prod is forced into his spine.
The metal stabs in between the center of his spine, entering the skin about three inches deep. The shock is immediate and torturous, his backbone sparking and buzzing alarmingly.
Severus crashes into the ground, squirming and sobbing loudly at the feeling. Enough enough ENOUGH-
The prod is removed and he is kicked in the tender of his side, knocking the breath out of his body.
The pain is better than the flash of the shocks.
He trembles fiercely, curling in on himself.
He wants to go home. He isn’t sure where that is, but cold darkness and a steaming cauldron sounds about right.
He retreats into his mind, and finds himself observing the damaged bookshelves from the earlier assault. They remain face down on the white ground, surrounded by torn, crinkled pages and bent covers. Mind Severus sighs internally, before turning to look through the remaining books.
He wanders the maze, pausing at the area marked ‘Fantasy’.
He traces a finger over the volumes, snatching out a fairytale book. It was muggle, but he still opened it and flicked through the pages.
He remembers going through this as a child and debunking all of it. His father was furious at that-as if denying one myth while living another was the worst evil he could possibly commit.
Mind Severus smiles wryly, placing the book back. He walks down another aisle, until he stops to see a book lying on the ground. He bends down, turning it over. No title, no words at all.
Huh.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Severus spins on his heel, dropping the blank book quickly. He cringes at the sound of the spine slapping down-
Voldemort stands before him, at his normal height.
Severus swallows hard against the lump in his throat, looking around frantically for an escape. For whatever reason, he finds it difficult to move-he hadn’t frozen up like this last time…
Voldemort approaches him, raising a hand to cradle his jaw. Severus tries his damndest to jerk away from his touch, but he. Can’t. Move.
“All of this is unnecessary, Severus. You are fighting for a purpose you have no ability to continue with…really, your fate outside of here will be no better. Albus is foolish, but even he knows when to do away with his toys. I’ve been patient, so, so patient…but it is time for this madness to end. You will tell me what I want to hear from you, or you will never speak again.”
Severus places his blankest, coldest glare on Voldemort possible.
The Dark Lord sighs sadly. “I see. I did try. You can’t say I have never been merciful.”
A gust of wind. Severus grits his teeth.
Voldemort begins to grow in height, and suddenly Severus can move again. He swishes his body around, and the chase begins anew.
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He is forced back into reality, Voldemort refusing him any semblance of peace from his own mind. He is thrust into the scene that plays out.
Avery is bent at the knee, twirling the prod absentmindedly.
“Nice of you to join us, Snape.”
Severus wants to punch him. Snap his neck. Maybe stab him twenty times with that prod and see how he likes it.
Avery presses the prod against the side of his neck without triggering the shock, merely impaling the skin. Severus closes his eyes tightly against the feeling of droplets of blood streaming downward.
“You really are entertaining to see. It’s the defiance, really…we could go months without any other subject, because you just. Won’t. Give. Up.”
Severus is not to blame for how his whole body shivers violently.
Avery rubs his thumb over the trigger, lips stretched in a jeering grin.
“Let’s see how powerful you really are, Prince.”
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Sirius was never born to be a healer.
This fact is confirmed by how he is sorting out Snape’s daily potion regime that Pomfrey had offloaded earlier, trying to remember the order in which he was to dose the ugly git.
He didn’t need the blood replenishers anymore, so now he simply had energy and muscle relaxants, something to prevent infections, a painkiller, some wiggenweld for those cursed scratches.
But which came first? Did it matter? To Remus it seemed it did, and the man was sleeping. Sirius had taken over at five in the morning, as they had agreed would be their schedule…but really, this was not his forte. At this point, he wouldn’t have minded being in charge of casting cleaning charms on ol’ Snivellus…or, since he was without magic at the moment, he would literally choose to strip him naked and draw a bath. He would take running his hands through that oily hair and thus coating it with shampoo over remembering what order he had to register bloody medicine in.
Figuring the painkillers were most important(and it sounded right, in his foggy memory), Sirius picks a vial of that out and turns to Snape-
Who is shivering, teeth chattering and eyebrows knit. This wasn’t unusual, but it was jarring each time.
Sirius swallows harshly, taking a seat and pulling Snape’s lips open. The man beneath him takes a strangled gasp, one that makes Sirius’ stomach churn in anxiety.
“Oh hush, snake. I don’t like this any more than you do-”
The words are barely out of his mouth before Snape’s entire body jerks and shudders, and like a snap, his form convulses wildly. His limbs twist in unnatural directions, eyes flying open and rolling to the back of his skull with another gasp.
Sirius is not panicking. He is not panicking. He is not-
“What the hell?!” Sirius shouts, moving to do something. But he doesn’t know what to do here, what does one do here-
A million prognosis roll through Sirius’ mind, but the words and symptoms jump from him like water bugs. In a flimsy attempt to do anything, he grabs Snape’s limbs and pins him against the bed. This doesn’t help, as the white foam he’s been spitting up starts to stick in his throat and choke him-
Fuck fuck fuck fuck!!
Sirius moves back quickly, turning Snape onto his side. It’s an impulsive, instinctual move, but it seems to work as the drool, vomit and foam now dribble from his throat and onto the mattress. Sirius’ mind is running in circles-is there a way to stop this? Should he try? Should he restrain him, should he knock him out or something-
“Pads?”
Thank Merlin’s bloody tits.
Remus stands at the doorway, blinking sluggishly at the scene before him. The werewolf is in a nightshirt and sleeping cap, and it would be amusing if not for the situation currently at hand.
“Moony, Moony he’s-I don’t know what to do-”
Remus snaps into reality at Sirius’ tone, face glazing over as he moves to action. He crosses the room in a few strides, grabbing Snape’s face and looking him over. A realization dawns on him(Sirius knows that look, and he feels relief wash over him. At least he knows what’s happening)as he takes in the flickering state of Snape’s eyes.
“Seizure. He’s seizing-” Remus murmurs, moving to Sirius’ side and pushing him away. Sirius allows this gratefully, watching as he holds him like how he was doing literally just a moment ago.
“You did the right thing,” Remus says in a strained voice, not meeting Sirius’ eyes as he pays attention to the flailing body underneath his hands, “Turning him on his side.”
Sirius nods, not even bothering to try and sway the burning lump in his throat as he wrings his hands. No, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Snivellus, but witnessing this has left him a bit shaken. Just a bit, though.
The seizure seems to last ages. Sirius begins to wonder if it will leave at all, but it does-about as suddenly as it came. Snape’s limbs fall slack and he collapses, though his teeth are still audibly grinding and his breaths are sharp through his flared nostrils. Remus rolls him onto his back again slowly, watching for any signs of a continuation through a strained brow.
Sirius feels useless. He just watches Remus, who steps away the moment Snape’s jaw unclenches and the git seemingly relaxes.
Fucking Snivellus, making me ruin my composure like that. Who the hell does he think he is.
“It’s done.” Remus states softly, though it seems he’s comforting himself more than anyone else. “He’s in the clear now. I do hope he didn’t strain his jaw too much-”
“Moony.”
Remus’ head flinches up to meet Sirius’ eyes. His hair is disheveled, pieces of it floating over his wide, red rimmed eyes that carry deep bags underneath them.
Sirius opens his mouth to say something, but finds himself at a loss for words. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, tugging at the strands after he fists them into his palm.
Remus seems to understand, because he makes his way over and pulls him into a hug, running a hand aimlessly across his back. Sirius relaxes against him, closing his eyes and letting the stress wash off from him.
“M’sorry, Moons…I hadn’t-hadn’t seen anything like that before. Cruciatus, sure, but that wasn’t-I didn’t know what to do, I’m sorry-”
Remus hushes him, shaking his head against his neck.
“That’s alright Pads. all’s well…did you finish up his medicine?”
Sirius pulls away, heaving a sigh before shaking his head and sitting in the chair by Snape’s side. He rummages through the potions and elixirs, brow creased in thought.
He still didn’t have the order right-
He stills as Remus places his hand on top of his, the fingers sweaty from the earlier stress but unmistakably warm from sleep as well. Sirius feels his heart race against his ribcage relentlessly, and he has to swallow down a choking sensation as he looks up at Remus. He looks exhausted, hazel eyes dulled from excursion as he shakes his head slightly.
“I can do it. Might as well, I’m up now…”
Sirius realizes he’s been staring too long, and he jerks his hand away. He pointedly avoids Remus’ gaze, focusing instead on something far less pleasant-Snivellus’ rising and falling chest. He offers no response to Remus, simply looking at the pale, still trembling ghost of a man beside him.
There’s the noise of clinking glasses, and Sirius watches as Remus cradles Snivellus’ jaw with his hand. He props open his mouth, whispering under his breath about how it’ll be over soon, and how he’s sorry love, just another moment.
Sirius’ heart aches at the display of tenderness, and he feels a bit bitter as well. Remus was gentle to everyone as a default, but Sirius sometimes forgot that he wasn’t the only person Remus had ever allowed entry to his overfilled heart.
His movements are steady-after the painkillers, he’s popping the cap off of the wiggenweld, then the muscle relaxant, then the energy, then he’s unscrewing the lid from a jar of scar cream and rolling down the collar of Snape’s shirt. Sirius observes it all with a sense of detachment, although he will admit to gazing at Snape’s neck a little longer than necessary, and is especially mesmerized at the sight of Remus long but plump fingers smoothing the ointment across what appears to be two stabbed pokes in the side of Snape’s throat in a slow but thorough action. Sirius’ eyes go hooded, and he lets himself be drawn in the sharp line of Snape’s jaw leading to his ears, then his hair, that is slicked back. He traces his nose, the arch that goes to his eyes, that are curtained by thick, pretty lashes…
Sirius’ heart gives a lurch, and he blinks away those unpleasant thoughts and focuses instead on Remus yawning as he wipes the cream off of his fingers by using a tissue.
“Seizures need time, he just needs to rest. I will inform Pomfrey of it tomorrow though, as it may become reoccurring.”
Sirius nods quietly, watching Remus hunch a bit. He wants, very badly, to pull the werewolf into his arms and watch him curl into sleep. They’d cuddled before, but Sirius isn’t sure it would be welcome in this scenario…
“Go to bed, Moony.”
Remus doesn’t even spare him another glance as he shuffles upstairs, yawning loudly on the way up.
Sirius deflates once he’s gone, rubbing his face with his hand.
Fuck me, he thinks to himself. I’m utterly hopeless.