Madly, Deeply, Black

The next week passed in the same way as the first three days. Sirius had decided to do only what was necessary for Snape. Every morning he went to the room where Snape, still in a coma, was resting and administered the potions required for his care. Then, as soon as his task was done, he left, fleeing the room. He repeated this ritual several times during the day, taking care to give the potions at the appropriate times. He spent most of his time with Harry and the others, not always in a good mood, trying to help clean the house when he could. He often went to see Buck, these breaks gave him some of the peace and quiet he so badly needed since Dumbledore had given him the thankless 'job' of looking after Snape. Besides, he had failed in one of his duties and hoped that no one would notice. After the bath experience, Sirius had definitely given up applying the oil with magical properties to Snape's body. Furthermore, ashamed of what had happened during the bath, Sirius had not repeated the adventure and was content to occasionally wave his wand at Snape to wash him with magic, which was not necessarily very effective. Sometimes his gaze fell on the wounded man's black hair, which had lost its greasy appearance and seemed to be staying pretty much clean. Sirius forced himself not to think back to the silky texture of his hair when he had held it in his hands. Sometimes he saw the dried, dirty blood that had flowed from them, but his desire to know the details of the story had largely subsided. He only wished that Snape would wake up and go away as soon as possible.

Part of his wish was granted about ten days after Snape had apparated to the front door of the Order's quarters and collapsed in the hallway, using his last bit of strength to close the door behind him. As Sirius made his afternoon rounds and was about to leave the room, he heard a low hiss behind him and a slight rustling. He turned around immediately, his heart pounding.

“Snape?” he asked, wand raised.

No voice answered him. Yet Sirius was sure he heard something. He took a few steps towards the injured man. As he approached the bed, he almost gave a startled cry. Snape was staring at him, his eyes wide and expressionless.

“Snape," Sirius repeated, as if to convince himself of what he was seeing, "you are awake.”

The wizard still did not answer. Sirius was beginning to feel uneasy. What if he had administered a potion incorrectly and Snape was 'limited' because of it?

“Are you alright?" Sirius asked stupidly and vainly.

He heard again the sort of hissing sound that had alerted him a few moments earlier.

“I don't understand, I... I'll come closer, okay?" he asked hesitantly.

He knew that Snape could be dangerous, Dumbledore had warned him that when he woke up, he might not recognise him and be afraid. Fear can make people do stupid, impulsive and thoughtless things, Dumbledore had added. Cautiously, Sirius took a few more steps towards the bed.

“Snape, it's me, Sirius. Sirius Black," he added, just in case.

But his words seemed to have no effect on the man lying on the bed. The hissing had resumed, and Sirius hesitated for a few moments before deciding to lean over. He had realised that it was Snape who was making that sort of grumbling sound. Ever cautious, Sirius put his ear close to Snape's mouth and heard:

“Thirsty...”

Immediately, Sirius exclaimed, pointing his wand in the direction of the bathroom:

“Accio glass of water!”

A glass appeared in the air. Sirius had used it once to brush his teeth... He caught the glass and held it out to Snape. Snape made no move to take it. In fact, Sirius realised that something was wrong, he didn't know exactly how people were supposed to behave when they came out of a coma caused by magical torture after ten days or so, but apparently Snape was severely affected. He put the glass on the bedside table and decided to grab Snape under his arms and pull him up onto his pillow so he could give him a drink. The man allowed himself to do so and did not react when Sirius grabbed him. Once settled, he took the glass of water and brought it to Snape's lips. They barely opened, very slowly, but Sirius thought it was a good omen, Snape was not completely unaware of what was happening. He brought the glass closer and tilted it to the inside of Snape's half-open lips. He poured the water slowly, taking care not to drop it or be too hasty. When the glass was empty after what seemed like forever, Snape sighed again and closed his eyes.

“I'll contact Dumbledore, shall I? He'll know what to do," Sirius told him, assuming that Snape understood him.

He glanced at him, then pulled out his wand and passed the message to his big dog Patronus, who immediately went to warn the Headmaster of Hogwarts that Snape was awake but seemed unable to speak.

Dumbledore arrived after a few moments, and with the help of his phoenix, apparated into the Order's headquarters, into Snape's room. He nodded to Sirius and then strode over to the bed.

“Severus! You've come back to us," he said in a soft voice. “How do you feel?”

Snape did not answer, but seemed to show more vigour when he saw Dumbledore.

“Can you speak to me, Severus?”

After a moment that seemed to drag on, Sirius heard a very faint, hoarse voice.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh, very good," Dumbledore enthused. “Severus, do you... do you remember what happened?”

Snape shook his head, seeming to indicate that he wasn't sure if he remembered anything at all.

“I thought it would be difficult," sighed Dumbledore. “Sometimes memories take a long time to emerge, especially when the person has been unconscious for some time. Severus, you were unconscious for a long time, you arrived here at Sirius's house in the evening ten days ago, injured. You fainted almost immediately, and Sirius has been looking after you ever since, once Madam Pomfrey and I have examined you. Do you... do you remember anything?”

Sirius had blushed, standing back behind Dumbledore, at the mention that he had cared for Snape during his coma. He had the impression that this information had not escaped Snape's notice and that he too had turned colour.

“A little..." he answered, still with that very weak and hoarse voice, as if it had rusted over the last ten days. “I...”, he began, then stopped short, shaking his head.

“Severus," said Dumbledore. “I will give you time to try and remember and wake up properly from this long sleep. I will return tomorrow afternoon so that we can talk again. Is there anywhere that hurts?”

Snape shook his head. Sirius thought to himself that everything must hurt in some way. It must have been very strange to emerge after such a long absence, the body had to be given time to regain its own consciousness.

“Well," Dumbledore added, rising from the edge of the bed where he had briefly sat. “If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask Sirius, he's the one who knows what potions to take. Also, if you suddenly remember anything, tell him and he will contact me immediately. Rest easy Severus, I'm glad you're back with us.”

Snape gave Dumbledore a weak nod. Apparently, he was completely exhausted and Sirius thought he would go back to sleep.

Once the Headmaster had left, Sirius felt uneasy. He didn't know what to do with a half-comatose Snape who only seemed to show signs of life at the mention of Sirius' name.

“Uh, Snape," he said hesitantly. “Do you want anything?”

“Black,” the weak, husky voice answered, “get out of here.”

“Very well," Sirius replied angrily. “I'm leaving, and if you die in the meantime, don't forget to leave a note for Dumbledore explaining that you threw me out, I wouldn't want him to hold me responsible for your death, it's hard enough being responsible for your life.”

With that he turned and slammed the door behind him.

Sirius was awakened in the night by a thud. He immediately sat up in bed, certain that the noise was coming from Snape's room. Despite his anger at Snape and his reluctance to go and find him, he got up anyway. That evening he had not given him any potions, still angry and upset at the way Snape had reacted when he had offered to help and had looked after him for ten days. He went out into the corridor and knocked on Snape's door. There was no answer. He knocked again and decided to go in. If Snape was indeed paying for Sirius's meddling with his healing and potions, he'd better try to do something about it as soon as possible. As he opened the door, Sirius knew he had done the right thing by entering. The black shape of Snape's body in the semi-darkness was on the floor beside the bed. It looked as if he had fallen, and that was certainly what had happened.

“What the hell are you doing?" asked Sirius' voice.

Snape turned to him, his eyes glaring.

“My wand," he said with difficulty.

Sirius sighed and walked over to the bedside table. He should have remembered to give Snape his wand as soon as he'd been woken up. He opened the drawer and took out the thin black wand with the symbol-encrusted handle. Immediately Snape reached up and grabbed it.

“Oh easy," Sirius grumbled, "it won't fly away.”

Snape didn't answer, but his wheezing could be heard. He had not risen from the ground and the arm that had gripped the wand had collapsed beside him.

“Er, did you fall?" asked Sirius.

“What do you care, Black?" asked Snape.

“Oh, you're able to speak in sentences now, that's better," Sirius taunted.

“Shut up," said Snape through his teeth.

“Snivellus is as kind as ever, I see. I suppose you can get up on your own then?”

“Yes,” said Snape in a tense voice.

“Well then, I'll leave you to it. Your potions are in the bathroom across the hall, I remembered you didn't take any last night. Please try not to wake me up by falling out of bed again.”

Sirius had turned to leave, his heart pounding and his fury rekindled when he heard Snape behind him asking:

“What's that?”

He turned and saw Snape still half lying on the ground staring at his hand holding his wand.

“This is your wand Snape. Have you really lost all your memory?”

“No, that," he said.

Sirius walked over and saw that Snape had grabbed the lace cuff that adorned the nightgown he had been wearing.

“Er, it's a nightgown," Sirius said stupidly, shrugging.

Snape gave a sort of snort through his nose.

“It's a woman's garment..." he said under his breath.

Apparently talking took a lot of energy.

“Yeah," Sirius replied, "it was my mother's, but your clothes were all bloody and torn up so we had to find something else.”

He could now see the left side of Snape's face. His eyes had become accustomed to the semi-darkness and he could even make out her expression: the Potions Master was grimacing.

“Your mother? Was there nothing else?”

“If you're not happy, just take off the laces! You've got a Snape wand. Good night now!”

This time, as Sirius had his hand on the handle, he heard Snape's husky voice behind him again:

“Black.”

“Yes?" he asked, not hiding his exasperation.

“I can't do it alone.”

“Can't what?”

Snape didn't answer, but Sirius quickly understood.

“Oh, yeah, right," he mumbled as he approached. “And uh, what exactly do you want me to do? I don't want to get a spell in my face.”

“Just... lift me up, take my arm.”

Apparently, asking Sirius for help was taking a lot out of Snape, both physically and mentally. When Sirius was close by, he saw that the Slytherin was keeping his eyes down on the ground and avoiding meeting his gaze. His dark hair fell in curtains in front of his face and only his nose was visible.

“Your right arm?" asked Sirius.

“Yes," Snape whispered.

“Okay.”

Sirius grabbed Snape's right arm, hoping that the pounding of his heart against his ribs could not be heard. Sirius felt himself blushing. As he pulled on Snape's arm, he realised that Snape was trying to push on his other arm, the one holding his wand, but couldn't get it off the ground.

“Er, you're not being very helpful," Sirius remarked.

“I'm trying," Snape replied through gritted teeth, "but I just... I can't.”

He was still avoiding Sirius' gaze and kept his eyes stubbornly lowered to his wand. Suddenly his hand gave way and he collapsed to the floor.

“Shit," muttered Sirius, who had dropped his other arm a few moments before. “Are you alright?”

“Of course," Snape's irritated voice sounded a little higher pitched than usual. “I'm...”

Sirius became aware of Snape's accelerated breathing and it occurred to him that proud as Snape was, this must be an extremely humiliating situation for him. In a fit of generosity, Sirius bent over to Snape again and without waiting for Snape to say anything, grabbed him from behind with one hand around his torso on the left side and the other under his left leg. He lifted him without any difficulty, the man who was already very thin had become even lighter in the last ten days. If someone had looked through the keyhole at that moment, they would have briefly seen the tall, muscular figure of a man in a T-shirt and pyjama shorts, carrying another shorter, slimmer figure in a nightdress, his hair swaying in the air.

For a moment, no doubt in surprise, Snape looked up at Sirius and their eyes met. Sirius quickly looked away and laid Snape on the bed, next to the loose blanket he had thrown back on the edge near the wall. Sirius made a move to grab the blanket to fold it over Snape but Snape stopped him with a weak but firm gesture.

“That'll do," he murmured.

“Okay," Sirius said with a shrug. “Good night.”

He thought for a moment that Snape wasn't going to say anything at all, but then he heard:

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

With that, Sirius hurried to the door, thankful that Snape refused to look at him because otherwise he might have noticed the flush that was spreading across the Gryffindor's cheeks.