Rough Times

There is only so much one can do to hide from pain; any attempt at keeping it at bay through intensive work, substance abuse, sleep or all kinds of unhealthy behaviours only feeds the ill-being which keeps growing, comfortably, at the back of one's mind. It thrives in the body and soul's exhaustion - the constant struggle of living despite its presence causes a chronic and fatal fatigue, and when the wretchedness finally bursts out, the coast is clear.

Severus' sick brain refused him the simplest of things, such as sleep, or food. To him, this state of exhaustion, this physical pain were a sort of relief that prevented him from going insane with grief; but slowly, the suffering grew physical. His heart ached as if someone was squeezing it in their fist; often, his breathing was difficult; all of this merged into a spiral of greyish, self-alienating emotions which could not be described with words, for it was a state of misery that knew neither physical nor mental boundaries. It was the soul tainted blue, an existential nausea.

He did not know why the pain and self-disgust hit him so hard that day in particular. Suddenly whatever he did to get rid of the pain in his chest was useless: he was suffocating with guilt and despair, he confusedly wished to escape, to crawl out of his own skin, to take his heart out. He sank to the floor of his bathroom, his back against the cold wall, taking a few sharp breaths. He would do anything, anything to be freed from that suffering, even for a few minutes.

Without thinking, he picked a razor blade.

"Did Professor Snape go home for Christmas?" Minerva asked, taking a seat next to Albus.

"No, I don't think he did", the headmaster answered. "He told me he was staying over the holidays, he will be using his private laboratory for further research."

He put a generous slice of cake on his plate.

"I haven't seen him in a few days. Do you think he will celebrate Christmas with us this year? I believe he is more comfortable around us now."

Albus nodded.

"He seems to be getting along with you fairly well, Minerva, which is a good thing. But I doubt he is ready to join us just yet."

The deputy headmistress sighed. "That's a pity. I have a gift for him that I think he'll enjoy. He mentioned this plant he would like to use in his experiments several times - one of my cousins went to Tibet two months ago and brought back some seeds for me. I am not entirely certain that was legal, but I am sure he will make good use of it."

"I am positively surprised, Minerva. I did not expect you to have a gift for him, especially such a thoughtful one."

"Well", the other witch replied "I am being civil. And I must say, he keeps surprising me. I thought you wanted him to be present at dinner time?"

Albus sighed. "Well, I suppose holidays do not count."

"They should. He will look skeletal again when he comes out."

The headmaster stood up, smiling maliciously. "Very well, I shall go ask him if he'd like to join us. Would you like to come?"

"Perhaps we should have dinner in the staff-room rather than the Great Hall. It would be more cheerful - Filius said he could almost hear his voice echoing through the walls here", Minerva said, following suit.

But the Potion Master's private lab was empty. The headmaster also noticed, with a hint of concern, that no potion was currently being prepared. The last time Severus had neglected his work, he had found him in quite a state. Minerva saw the worry on his face.

"He must be in his apartments", she said reassuringly.

She quietly followed Albus as he led the way again. He knocked three times on the door, but there was no answer. He tried a second time.

Still nothing.

"He must have gone out."

"I suppose checking his rooms will do no harm if he is not here, then", Albus muttered, his eyes still locked on the door's handle. As headmaster, he had unlimited access to every part of the castle, and though he did not intend to invade his professor's privacy yet another time, he needed to make sure he was fine.

The rooms were cold. With the exception of a faint light coming from dying flames in the fireplace, the place was dark and seemed empty. With a slight movement of his wand, Albus lit up the place.

"Severus?" he called again. "Are you here?"

Again, no reply.

He checked the Potion Master's bedroom.

Minerva headed toward the bathroom.

She froze.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"Mister Snape", she managed in a toneless voice, kneeling beside him. "Severus."

Then a rush of adrenaline washed over her and she started screaming, her hands trembling. "ALBUS! ALBUS! He is here!"

Albus entered the room and he, too, froze in horror. On the white floor was Severus, his face paler than it had ever been, a pool of blood under his right arm. Albus couldn't see if his chest was rising; he couldn't see him properly. Minerva was already pulling off his sleeve, pressing a towel against the wound. She then turned to Albus, who still had not moved:

"What are you waiting for? Get Poppy now!"

As the headmaster quickly left, she brushed black hair away from the unconscious man's face. He was breathing… for now.

"Don't do that to yourself, Severus", she muttered, "you are too young. Don't give up now."

It no longer mattered how she felt about the man, what she thought of him, what he had done and might have done – if he died now, she would never forgive herself. He had to live.

"Minerva, would you let me see him?"

The witch flinched when Poppy knelt beside her, a little out of breath. She cast a quick diagnosing spell, then, gently moving Minerva's hands, busied herself with the wound on his wrist.

"It is not good", she said, "he has been here for a while. The blood loss is very concerning."

"Should we take him to the hospital?" Minerva managed, still dazed.

"I can handle him", the nurse replied. "But he attempted to kill himself. You know what spells will have to be cast on him. Could you help me put him in a sitting position? I need to give him a blood-replenishing potion right now."

With immense gentleness, the headmaster lifted Severus' upper body off the ground. A silvery sheen caught Minerva's attention, it was the razor blade: angrily, she took out her wand and destroyed it instantly. Still, the blood on the floor contrasted sharply with the whiteness of the tiling.

"Careful and consistent administration of the potion will help him get better eventually, but he is going to be very weak from the blood loss", Poppy told the headmaster. She paused. "Why… why did he do it?"

This time, she had lost her professional tone; her eyes were filled with tears.

"I thought he was starting to appreciate the position", Minerva muttered. She, too, was on the verge of crying. "I thought he was doing better..."

Albus lowered his head, his blue gaze away from view.

"I thought so, too", he said, his voice uncharacteristically stern. "I thought I could help him…"

And the only thing he wanted to do at this instant was to go out of the room, and forget about it all.

Dizziness was the first sensation he could properly identify as he slowly woke up. Waking up had rarely been so difficult before, but this time it seemed that his eyelids were refusing to cooperate, and for a moment he felt tempted to give up and surrender to sleep again.

"Come on, Severus, just a little further", a soft voice said above him, startling him awake.

He opened his eyes. He was in his bedroom; McGonagall was sitting next to his bed, staring at him with a worried, almost timid smile.

She did not know whether it was her place to be here or not.

"I am glad you are finally awake", she told him.

"Why… are you here?" he managed, unsure of what was happening.

The transfiguration teacher hesitated. Her eyes fell on his right wrist, and he followed her gaze. His heart squeezed painfully. Oh no, no…

He felt such shame he thought he might vomit. Minerva, sensing his distress, nervously squeezed his hand, and when he did not take it away, she supposed he was too tired to have noticed what she had done.

"Please... do not ask questions", he said, turning his head in the opposite direction. He could not face her.

"I was not going to", she answered. "I just want you to know we are here for you."

Severus laughed weakly. "I do not need your pity, professor. I am not your student anymore. Please save this for someone else."

But Minerva did not give up. She blurt out every thought that had been spiraling in her mind for the past 24 hours.

"Albus and I found you because we wished to have dinner with you. Poppy took care of you, and she kept crying. Some first-year Slytherins questioned us about your whereabouts – please consider this."

Severus did not reply. He was silent for a while.

"Are you going to sermon me, headmaster?" he then asked, his face still turned in the opposite direction.

Minerva looked over her shoulder to find Albus standing next to the bedroom door, watching them quietly. He came in.

"Not at all, Severus. But I do hope you will talk to us the next time you feel the need to do something so dire."

"That would rather defeat the point", the Potion Master replied, yawning slightly. "Please, leave me alone."

That was all he said before drifting off again.

"He seems so… detached. Like he has just been ill and nothing else happened", Minerva whispered, not taking her eyes off him.

"Suicide is rarely motivated by the search for death; the point is to take the pain away. Right now he does not feel this pain", Albus replied sadly.

"Good morning, dear boy. Did you sleep well?"

Severus did not bother glancing at the man who was calling him "boy", recognizing the insufferable voice even with his eyes still shut and his head pounding. He felt very relaxed under the warmth of the blankets, almost too relaxed –

"Who gave me… a draught of peace?" he asked sleepily. He grimaced at the sound of his voice.

"Poppy", Albus answered, "she thought it would do you some good. Don't worry, it is the one you brewed", he added humorously.

Even with his mind fogged by too many potions and fatigue, Severus managed to open his eyes, frowning slightly. "She is… using my potions?"

"She has been for quite some time now. Surely you didn't think she took them just to please you?"

"Perhaps", Severus replied awkwardly. He took a deep breath. "My apologies, headmaster. I did not want to bother you with… my problems", he muttered, looking away.

The older man smiled at him. "Your problems have been my problems since the first day you stepped foot into this school, Severus. It is I who needs to remember this. Now, what would you say about breakfast? We have some very tasty Christmas pudding here."

Severus attempted to sit, feeling dizzy still. He knew the headmaster was purposely avoiding the heart of the matter not to embarrass him; he himself did not know how he felt, if he felt more worthless than grateful, self-disgusted, or relieved. He wished to sleep and forget about it all.

"Christmas?" he repeated, looking down at the plate the headmaster had placed before him.

"It is Christmas morning, Severus. You were out for a few days."

The younger man scowled. "I cannot possibly have slept for so long!"

Albus gave him a mug of hot chocolate. "Poppy helped. She wanted you to get more rest. Merry Christmas, dear boy."

Severus' sigh was interrupted by footsteps coming from his living room. McGonagall softly knocked on the open door - she was carrying two packets in her arms.

"Good morning Professor Snape", she greeted him. "May I come in?"

After a moment of stupor, Severus nodded hesitantly. He did not have much of a choice, but could not understand what the deputy headmistress was doing in his bedroom. He felt like a student again.

"Since we weren't at the staff party yesterday, I would like to give you both your gifts now", she said, acknowledging the headmaster with a smile.

This time, Severus looked mortified. "Why were you not celebrating with the others?", he asked spontaneously, although he already knew the answer.

"We watched over you, of course", Albus replied. "Poppy left to celebrate with her family yesterday."

His face turned red. "You shouldn't have… I am sorry… I know these celebrations mean a lot to you" he muttered. "Don't you wish to have breakfast in the Great Hall with the rest of the staff then? You should go -"

Minerva sat beside Albus. "Don't be silly, it is no bother." She handed him a very small box wrapped in green paper. "This is for you."

Severus considered it uncomfortably. "You shouldn't have."

One second, he feared he would start crying. His weakened state, and the potions he had obviously been given, did not help him manage his emotions. He could not remember the last time he had received a gift; it may have been for his fifteenth birthday from Lily, or perhaps a year later, from his mother. He did not expect McGonagall to be there at all, let alone for her to give him a Christmas present, and he could not help but think she was doing this because of what he had tried to do. The idea that she might pity him revolted him.

Still, very carefully, he unwrapped the paper and opened the box. Inside was a small foreign-looking bag which contained ten huge, brown and yellow seeds; he recognized them instantly.

"How did you find those!" he exclaimed, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. The surprise made him momentarily forget about his unease. Unwrapping the bag delicately, he picked one of the seeds and held it closer to his face, examining it with unconcealed pleasure.

Minerva beamed.

"One of my cousins went to Tibet in late October. I asked her if she could find them for me. Now you have everything you need for these experiments of yours", she said.

Slowly, Severus took his eyes away from the seed and looked at her.

"October", he repeated.

"Yes, you were talking about it to Albus a few days after the term started, remember?"

So it was not because he had tried to kill himself.

"Thank you", he said simply, lowering his gaze so that she would not be able to look at him directly. "It… means a lot."

"I'm glad you like them – you'll have to show them to Pomona as well. And do not forget", she added in a lower, even softer tone, "next time you feel the need to do something so foolish, come to my office. We'll have tea."

An older Severus would have hated her mothering attitude. 22-year-old Severus, however, felt a pleasant, long-forgotten warmth spread in his chest, and smiled ever so slightly.