Fear
The next morning, she waited nervously for him to wake. She fed him multiple potions that Hippocrates told her to. But morning passed, along with the afternoon.
At five in the evening, Dahlia was trying to cook herself a meal- the muggle way- in the room. She was dejected, disappointed, but also slightly relieved.
She had her pots and pans ready, complete with A Wizard’s Guide to Cooking the Muggle Way and was just about to pour water into the pot when it slipped out of her hands and fell to the ground with a loud clang.
Not even a second later, Severus Snape opened his eyes.
Not missing a beat, as if this happened on a daily basis, he croaked,
“Five-hundred seventy-seven,” the man rasped, his words garbled. Severus seemed completely unfazed about how he was somewhere completely different from Azkaban.
Dahlia simply gaped at him, still shaking slightly from the noise the pots caused.
Severus stared at her, and then blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Hope flared in his working eye, and then died down, replaced by a numb emptiness.
Chewing on her lip, Dahlia didn’t really know what to do.
“Severus Snape,” the weak man rasped. “Born January 9th, 1960 to Eileen and Tobias Snape. Here because I betrayed the Death Eaters, murdered Albus Dumbledore, and was a spy. I’m ready for whatever you throw at me today.”
And then he did something completely strange.
Although he hadn’t stood, or moved, for that matter, in, well, a lot of days, Severus pushed the blankets aside and hobbled out of bed, dragging his right leg behind him. Then he spread out his body like a starfish and met Dahlia’s gaze wearily.
Severus was waiting for her to whip out her wand and fling curses at him.
He supposed this was all just a show, like the others. Like number 576, who acted like Kingsley and promised that Severus would be saved. That was stupid. Kingsley forgot about him. First, he’d thought it was a dream. But when fake-Kingsley a.k.a. 576 lifted him up, the physical pain Severus felt was definitely real. So Severus ruled him out as a dream.
Fake-Kingsley was one of the better torturers he’d met. Just like this strange person, 577, who’d even cared enough to clean him and place him in a nice bed just for his hope to shatter again. But no, it wouldn’t. Because he had no hope left.
Number 163 was a special one. Severus remembered that one clearly. The torturer managed to get some of Molly Weasley’s hair and used Polyjuice to impersonate her. The man brought over her famous fudge, which Severus stupidly ate, because he was nearly starving to death.
It wasn’t fudge. It was poison.
For a full twenty minutes, the Death Eaters, along with the guard and the man who’d brought the fudge, watched Severus writhe on the ground in pain.
After that one, Severus never trusted anyone he knew again.
“Severus,” Dahlia said softly, her voice shaking, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Severus’s eyes glittered.
“That’s what they all say,” he spat, breathing raggedly and sliding to the floor in exhaustion.
“You know me,” Dahlia said softly, using the voice she reserved for ill children. “Dahlia. Remember? I was- was your friend. You’re severely ill. You’re here so you can get better.”
“I don’t want to get better, alright?” Severus screamed, his vocal cords straining and nearly breaking. “I don’t want to, I don’t want to. I don’t deserve it. I’m a murderer, a traitor, a thief, a spy. A killer of friends. Because I killed the only two people that ever cared about me!”
He collapsed onto his left side, his right arm and leg still hanging limply.
“Let me help you,” Dahlia said gently, although shook to the bone, and then reached out.
Severus convulsed before she even touched him, letting out a soft, pitiful whimper.
Dahlia exhaled.
“Can I touch you?”
Severus blinked tears out of his eyes, still not trusting her. But miraculously, he nodded.
Dahlia leaned in and lifted Severus gently off the floor, his little weight shocking her. She set him back onto the bed and wrapped the blanket around the shivering man.
“There. It’s okay. How about you go back to sleep? I’ll tell Minerva and Harry that you woke up, oh, and Remus too, so they can come visit.”
“Harry?” Severus’s voice jolted him out of his musings.
“Harry Potter, yes. Harry’s alive. Oh, but you might not know that. Harry Potter is alive, and Voldemort is dead-”
Severus curled up on his side, buried his face in his blanket, and let out a muffled sob.
Dahlia’s heart broke.
“Harry’s alive,” Severus kept on repeating to himself. “I haven’t failed.”
He coughed, his chest heaving for breath.
“You aren’t- you’re lying. You’re fake, like the rest of them, waiting so you can crush me like a bug. You aren’t the real Dahlia.”
“I am the real Dahlia,” she said. “Severus, I’m not fake. Not me, or Kingsley, who you must’ve seen a few days ago.”
Severus bared his teeth at her, his eyes wide and frantic.
“Prove it,” he croaked. He desperately wanted to believe it.
Prove that she’s real? Dahlia didn’t know what to do.
“I’m not transfigured,” she said lightly. “I don’t have polyjuice in my system, because I probably would have gone back to another person if I did consume polyjuice.” She reached into her robes and pulled out her wand.
Instinctively, Severus whimpered and threw his hands above his head, cowering.
“I won’t hurt you,” Dahlia said, her eyes threatening to spill with tears. “I promise.”
She pointed the wand to herself and scanned her body. Then words drifted out from the tip of her wand. Dahlia Skydancer .
“It took my DNA, you see. Scanned me and determined who I am.”
“Say something only the real Dahlia knows,” Severus ordered in a harsh, ragged voice.
Dahlia stood in front of him, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.
“We dated.”
Severus slumped down even further, his eyes closed. Dahlia edged forward, reaching out her arms.
“I missed you,” she whispered. Severus nodded, dragged his claw-hand and leg so that he was closer to her, and leaned on her shoulder.
“I’m scared,” he wheezed. “It hurts. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“I know it hurts,” she soothed. “We’re going to try and fix that, alright? You’re going to get better.”
Severus squeezed tears out of his eyes.
“But I can’t trust anyone.”