Madly, Deeply, Black

The next morning, Sirius knocked on Snape's door before entering. It would certainly be safer to do it this way, as the Potions Master was now awake.

“Come in," said Snape's voice, still a little hoarse but full of new energy.

Sirius opened the door and entered the room. Snape had risen from his pillows and pulled the blanket down to his waist. Sirius noticed that the ends of the lace cuffs were damaged and that threads were hanging down in places. Snape had apparently cut them using a spell, but he wasn't an expert in the art of cutting.

“Er, how are you feeling?" asked Sirius.

“Spare me the niceties," Snape growled. “We both know you don't give a damn about the answer to that question.”

Sirius sighed and said nothing. He had decided not to react to Snape's invective, temperament permitting.

“I'll get your potions," he said.

“Black," said Snape when Sirius had returned with the necessary items. “I... where's the toilet?”

“Er, the nearest one is a few doors down the corridor," replied Sirius, thinking that he hadn't actually thought of that detail.

“Is it far?" asked Snape through gritted teeth.

“Oh no, maybe thirty metres," said Sirius.

“Thirty metres?" exclaimed Snape. “I'm not going to be able to walk that far, and I... I really need to go.”

He looked away, blushing. How was it possible to own a house so big that you had to walk 30 metres up a flight of stairs to find a toilet?

“Well, I can help you," offered Sirius.

“What if someone sees us? Who's in the house now?” asked Snape.

“Not many people, Harry's here of course, and then the Weasleys, Hermione, sometimes Remus and Tonks...”

“Fantastic, nobody really," Snape ironized, looking angry.

“But don't worry, they're not often on this floor of the house, in fact there's no reason for them to cross your path. And they know not to bother you.”

Snape sighed in frustration.

“Yes, I'd like your help to get there," he said resignedly.

“Well, all right. I... I'll carry you or...”

“Carry me? What the hell! I can walk on my own, Black, I just need a bit of support," Snape cut him off.

Sirius shrugged and approached the bed. He saw Snape making what seemed like superhuman efforts to sit up and move to reach the edge of the bed. Sirius saw that the other man winced with every movement and that he seemed incredibly concentrated in what he was doing, as if he wanted at all costs not to flinch, proud as he was. He reached the edge of the bed and wanted to make a movement to sit up and stand up, but he didn't seem to have enough strength. Snape pushed on a skinny arm whose wrist was uncovered and surrounded by badly cut wires and fell back onto the bed. He couldn't hold back a grunt of frustration. Sirius made no move to help him, unwilling to take a scathing remark in the face.

“You're going to stand there with your arms folded and watch me struggle?," Snape taunted. “Do you enjoy it maybe?”

“You told me you didn't want help, you should know what you want," replied Sirius, blushing.

“I couldn't have known that I still couldn't get up," Snape said through gritted teeth, blushing back.

Sirius took a few steps towards Snape and grabbed his arm. He felt the Potions Master leaning fully on him. He lifted him up and Snape very slowly got to his feet, grinning, putting all his weight (which wasn't that much) on Sirius. Sirius couldn't help but remark that perhaps he should be told to take a shower before Dumbledore's visit that very afternoon.

“Why don't I levitate you," suggested Sirius.

“Black, don't even think about it. I would never allow myself to be lifted by magic like a common puppet. Although you used to have a lot of fun doing that to me, those days are long gone.”

“It's a real pleasure talking to you Snape, as charming as ever.”

“It suits you to say that! If Dumbledore hadn't assigned you this... task, you'd be downstairs with the others, laughing at the person taking me to the toilet," Snape exclaimed furiously.

Sirius couldn't think of anything to say and shook his head in disbelief. Snape really was in a terrible mood.

“Do you realise how humiliating it is for me to be dependent on you," Snape continued angrily. “You behave as if you don't understand anything, you come into my room thinking I'm going to welcome you with open arms and thank you for your devotion, but don't dream Black, it's not going to happen.”

“Well... that's the way it is anyway, we have no choice," said Sirius.

He immediately sensed that it wasn't the right thing to say. A shadow passed silently over Snape's face, which darkened even more.

“You know what?" snapped Snape. “You're right, just carry me, it'll be quicker. And then I won't have to make any effort.”

Sirius really hadn't expected that.

“Okay," he said simply.

He had the impression that someone had cast a confusion spell on him and that his vocabulary had been greatly reduced as a result. Snape gave him a murderous look and Sirius felt his heart race again as he bent down and grabbed Snape, putting one arm behind his back and the other under his legs to lift him. Although light, Sirius was more aware of the Slytherin's weight than he had been the day before. He took a few steps towards the door, which he opened with a silent spell, and stepped out of the room into the corridor.

“Fuck Black, you don't have to carry me like this, I'm not your bride," Snape remarked.

“You know," replied Sirius, "there are only so many ways you can carry someone.”

“I'm not 'someone'," Snape said grumpily. “You could carry me so that I'm sitting up more than I'm lying down.”

Sirius hesitated to let go of Snape in the middle of the corridor. He raised the arm supporting Snape's legs to hold him higher and pushed on his back to put him in a “more seated” position. Snape seemed surprised by this gesture, he squinted but said nothing. Sirius felt his head spin slightly and it had nothing to do with Snape's weight. He was so close to him that he could smell him and a few strands of his hair, which had become a little greasy again, tickled his nose. The Slytherin's face was in Gryffindor colours, and he stubbornly stared ahead. When he got to the door of the toilet, Sirius kicked it open and placed Snape on the bowl.

“I'll leave you to it, I'll wait further down the corridor.”

“I've never experienced anything like this before," grumbled Snape, "I'll think of a solution. Why isn't there a toilet in the bathroom?”

“Because it's a very old house, it wasn't done at the time and you're in a guest room, so it's not equipped like other rooms might be. Any more questions?" replied Sirius.

“It's not very kind of your guests to make them travel so far.”

“You know, the notorious guests in this room have been Bellatrix and Narcissa, so I don't give a damn about their comfort. I should have smothered Bellatrix when I had the chance...”, he added dreamily.

“Bellatrix Lestrange slept in my bed?" asked Snape in a strange voice, higher pitched than usual.

“Er, yes, but mainly when she was a child, by the time I was ten I'd already noticed that we didn't get on, and after I started at Hogwarts I hardly spoke to her at all, and besides, she hardly ever came here on holiday any more. She was too old for that. We're almost ten years apart," he added to Snape.

Sirius saw that the other man was grimacing again.

“Touching little family stories," Snape said through clenched teeth. “Now, Black, if you'll just give me some peace and quiet.”

Sirius shrugged and turned away. He closed the door and sighed. Was Snape going to call him like a child once he'd finished what he had to do? Of course, that would be extremely humiliating, and the situation was already humiliating enough, as Snape had pointed out to him. Sirius stopped himself from imagining how Snape was going to manage on his own in the bathroom, forbade himself from thinking that he might need help, and walked away.
Dumbledore was due to arrive later in the afternoon, but Sirius didn't feel that the Slytherin remembered anything, or at least he didn't show any signs of it. He did seem to be getting stronger but was still extremely weak. Sirius couldn't imagine what could have caused such a state: unconsciousness for ten days and then this enormous loss of vitality. Only a Cruciatus Curse performed over a long period of time could cause such effects, and Sirius had not forgotten what had happened to the Longbottoms. Perhaps Snape had been tortured to the point of losing his mind? But by whom? And how had he escaped? Lost in his thoughts, Sirius was startled when he heard a loud bang from the toilet. He rushed in and knocked feverishly on the door.

“Well, come in Black," came Snape's voice.

As Sirius opened the door, he realised that Snape had intoned with the wand in his hand, obviously exhausted. But he had risen to his feet and was leaning against the wall, still wearing Sirius's mother's nightdress. When Sirius approached, Snape almost fell into his arms.

“Um, okay," Sirius said simply.

Snape said nothing and gritted his teeth.

“I can walk, I think.”

Sirius wanted to shrug but didn't. He supported Snape and held back an expletive: it was much easier to carry the man than to let him carry all his weight.

“Are you sure a little lightness spell couldn't...”

“Don't even think about it, Black," Snape cut him off. “Tonight I can look after myself and you won't have to play nanny any more.”

Sirius blushed but said nothing. A strange feeling had come over him. He didn't quite understand what he was feeling: a pang of disappointment pierced his heart at the thought that Snape could do without him. In the end, Dumbledore was right, this mission really gave him a feeling of being useful to the Order. He didn't want to be deprived of it, and worse, not be able to follow what was going to happen with Snape. What if Dumbledore suddenly decided to dismiss him? Sirius felt he couldn't bear to be left out without knowing what had happened. He wanted to know. He wanted to be part of what was going to be decided.

The two men suddenly found themselves at the door of the room where Snape had - in spite of himself - taken up residence. He was panting and Sirius saw beads of sweat beading on his forehead. A flick of his wand opened the door and Sirius hurried to guide Snape to the bed, where he let himself fall.

“Your potions are here," said Sirius, indicating the bedside table on which the potion bottles were placed.

Snape gave a grunt in response.

“What's that supposed to mean? Do you want me to...”

“No, that's all right," Snape cut in. “I can identify and decide for myself which potions are suitable. But... what I really need is a magic oil. It's strange that Poppy didn't think to leave a bottle...”

Sirius felt his insides freeze. He'd completely forgotten about the oil! After the bath mishap, he'd decided to leave the oil behind without really bothering about its effects.

“What is it, Black?" asked Snape.

Sirius thought the look of guilt must have crossed his face.

“Don't try to use the Legilimency on me," he exclaimed.

“I wasn't going to," sneered Snape, "and anyway, I don't think I'm strong enough to try that kind of magic yet. What have you got hidden away, Black? I think if you tell me now, it'll go quicker.”

Sirius swallowed, uncomfortable.

“The oil, er...”

He cast an attraction spell without saying it and the small bottle landed in his open hand. He handed it to Snape. The Slytherin looked at him with an indecipherable gaze. A few moments passed and then he said in a neutral voice:

“Thank you.”

Sirius looked away and felt guilty. But perhaps Snape understood that he hadn't meant to heal him with that?

“I notice, Black, that as long as your mission consisted of making me swallow potions without touching me, everything went well, but this oil that had to be rubbed on my body, that was too big a task to accomplish.”

“It's not what you think..." began Sirius.

“Yes, I think I understood you perfectly well," Snape cut him off. “But I thank you anyway, because the idea of having your hands on me while I'm unconscious repulses me to the core.”

“Very well," said Sirius furiously, "you're absolutely right. I didn't want to touch your ugly, skinny, sick body Snivellus, and if you want my opinion, you should go and have a shower before Dumbledore's visit, the bathroom's just across the room. And you should eat something!"

“Ah, the real Black is back," Snape quipped. “I wondered where he'd got to. Just so you know that oil would have kept my strength up and I'm going to do something about that immediately. You won't even have to carry me anymore, what a pity!”

“That's fine," replied Sirius, "but don't forget to wash up first.”

With that, he turned on his heels and left the room, closing the door abruptly. He could feel his insides churning.

Once in his own room, Sirius began pacing back and forth. Why was he reacting like this? Snape had always made him angry, but this time it was a different kind of feeling. Sirius felt really hurt, as if Snape's words had got to him. In fact, he regretted having been mean to the other man himself. He wanted to apologise, which was also unusual. He knew that Snape had made him angry, but this was different: he wanted Snape to like him and seeing himself rejected again had affected him and he had started to speak without thinking.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair and thought. Was it really his fault that Snape was doing so badly? In any case, the Slytherin had said he was grateful he hadn't touched him during his long sleep. Sirius thought back to the bath and why he hadn't used the oil. If Snape ever found out what had happened and discovered that Sirius had done a bit more than 'touch' him with an oil with magical properties...

“Shit," muttered Sirius.

He told himself that there was nothing more to be done anyway and went downstairs to have his lunch with the others. He was dreading Dumbledore's visit.