The Servant

Fire. His entire body felt as if it were on fire. He heard an agitated voice calling him, but couldn't understand what it was trying to say. Both the voice and the overwhelming pain receded gradually into the background, and he knew no more.

Severus drifted in and out of consciousness.

* * *

He awoke to cold, lightheadedness, and pain. He couldn't tell how long he had been unconscious. He forced his breathing to remain even and kept his eyes closed as he tried to orientate himself, a trick he had learned many years ago. Someone forced a vial to his lips and he threw his head back, unwilling to drink the unknown substance.

'Professor Snape?' a familiar voice called softly. Potter. Severus opened his eyes blearily. He tried to speak, but his mouth was too parched.

'It's just water. Have some,' Harry offered. Snape drank gratefully and then a vial was pressed to his lips again. The boy explained that it was a Pain Relieving Potion from his potions sack. Pepper-Up Potion and a Nutrient Potion followed. He sank back to the ground in a haze of pain. He was jerked out of his stupor by the feel of cool fingers running gently over his body.

He relaxed when the boy explained, 'It's your burn salve, Professor. You were badly burnt.' He lay still and allowed the boy to apply the cream over his skin. It soothed the pain greatly. He sat up again and took in the sight of the wreckage around him. Memories of the disaster returned. 'The vials of potion you bottled before the accident survived. Luckily you used those protective spells,' Harry said, seeing the frustration in the older wizard's face as he gazed at the ruined cauldron.

Potter had saved his life, he supposed. He was stunned. He would have expected the boy to leave him to die as he deserved. Not only had the boy saved him, he had then stayed by his side to keep the injured man company. The boy was a magnanimous fool. A Gryffindor to the core.

A tiny voice inside told him he should thank the boy. It was quickly buried in an avalanche of snarling fury. Had he worked so hard only to incur a life-debt to yet another Potter? The boy may have put a spoke in his wheel. Merlin only knew how this would interfere with his carefully laid plans.

Panic rose as he remembered the Horcrux in the cave and his master who awaited him. A hard taskmaster. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of what would happen if he failed. He could not allow last night's events to muddle his emotions.

He took a deep breath. Only great mental disciple and sheer force of will would see his plans through, life-debt or no life-debt. Gratitude would certainly sink his ship.

So he scowled at the boy. 'I suppose you had to act on your ever-present heroic tendency to save anyone and everyone,' he scathed. 'Why didn't you leave and resume the task on your own? Don't tell me that your Gryffindor courage deserted you?'