After Rain

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Chapter six

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Professor Dumbledore entered the Hospital Wing through the fireplace. His blue eyes filled with concern as Poppy gave him the most recent reports on his Potions master. Things did not look good. Albus wondered if the man on the bed knew. He probably did; Severus Snape had one of the sharpest minds he had ever known.

A figure followed Albus into the Hospital Wing. Dressed in a long gown and black robes with a hood, only a bit of pale skin and blonde hair was visible. Apparently, it was enough for the boy in the room to recognise her.

"Mrs. Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, standing up.

Mrs. Malfoy looked up, grey eyes meeting green.

"Mr. Potter," Mrs. Malfoy said.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked curiously.

"Mrs. Malfoy has been kind enough to act as Professor Snape's substitute today," Dumbledore said. "She was his apprentice many years ago, and still has a great interest in the field of Potions."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh."

She smiled at him. Albus saw the surprise on Harry's face.

"It's--it's nice to meet you," Harry said.

"The same to you, Mr. Potter," said Mrs. Malfoy.

Albus looked at his Potions master. Severus slept, and Harry returned to his seat next to him, dabbing a white damp cloth to his face. Severus looked very pale, more so than normal. His hair looked wet as well, and stuck to his throat, making him look even thinner than usual. He had lost several pounds in the last two days.

Albus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You should go back to your dorm, my boy. Thank you for your help today."

Harry looked up at him. Without surprise, Albus noted the worry in those green eyes.

"Will he be all right?" Harry asked quietly.

Albus sighed. "We don't know, Harry. We don't know."

"But - Madam Pomfrey can always heal--And you--You're supposed to be the greatest wizard ever--"

"Harry, we're doing everything we can," Albus said. "Now you should go back to your dorm and sleep."

Harry recognised the firm tone in the Headmaster's voice, and he touched Snape's forehead one final time, before setting the cloth away on a table nearby. He gave the Potions professor one last look, and then he bid the other grown-ups in the room good night and disappeared out the door.

Sighing heavily, Albus turned back to Poppy.

---

Severus awoke to the feeling of soft hands cupping his face. Beautiful silver eyes framed by long lashes watched him, and he felt warm and loved all at once, even as pain wracked his body and his head thundered with a headache.

"Severus," she whispered, and she kissed his forehead softly with cool lips on his sweaty forehead.

"Cissa," he rasped, his voice barely holding together.

He could see the unshed tears in her eyes, knew the bad shape he must be in to put them there. He wanted to wipe them away, take her into his arms - love her, even when she could not, did not, love him back. He was her friend, nothing more, and she was married to the greatest arsehole in the Wizarding World.

If only she were not so lovely.

Not that it mattered anymore. If this continued, he would be dead in a matter of days. No matter what the problem was, a solution was needed, before he expired.

"You've'n't found--an ant'--dote, then?" he said, forcing his throat to work as it should.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Narcissa said. "I didn't know he'd do this - I expected something against the Potter boy, but not you-- it makes no sense."

"Perfect--sense," Severus said. "I spied--he lost--money--r'spect--b'cause of me."

She placed her hand over his mouth. "Don't talk. Save your strength."

Dumbledore came to stand within his view then. Severus had not realised he had even been in the room - she stole his attention. Dumbledore looked upon him seriously.

"We believe Lucius Malfoy poisoned you," Dumbledore said. "A letter to Draco that Narcissa happened to read before he sent it off asks unusually about you and your health."

"Lucius--is an 'rrogant arse," Severus muttered.

Narcissa hid a smile behind her hand.

"We would like to try to draw him out," Dumbledore said. "Place you back in the classroom, as though the poison hasn't taken effect. Make him attempt to come here and finish the job."

Severus regarded them. He wished his head could be a little bit clearer - the throbbing pain and burning fire at his heart kept his mind occupied. Her hand, now resting atop his, also kept his attention.

"Not the f'rst time--I'd be bait," Severus said.

"No, but hopefully, it will be the last," Dumbledore said.

"Might be," Severus said, then coughed painfully. If they did not catch Lucius, administer Veritaserum to him, and thus find out what the poison was, then this would be the last time Severus played bait. It might be either way - whatever the poison, an antidote needed to be brewed, and those took anywhere between hours and months to make. He did not have that kind of time.

None of the occupants of the room noticed the door that was slightly ajar, where two curious green eyes still watched beneath a mop of dark hair.

---

His mind reeling, Harry returned to the Gryffindor tower. He knew now; had his answer - Snape really was dying, and Lucius Malfoy was the reason why.

Had he not inflicted enough pain already? He had started with Ginny, innocent and young at eleven years old - for no other reason than that she had been convenient. He had not even quite known what the diary would mean.

Lucius had been there when Voldemort had been brought back, he had been there in the Department of Mysteries. Though he had never been convicted, Harry was certain the man had both tortured and killed Muggles. The very, very short stay in Azkaban that had followed, before his lawyers had managed to get him out, had been far too little to pay for his crimes.

If he stayed there forever, it would still be too short a time, Harry thought, rather bitterly.

And there was Draco. Malfoy, Harry reminded himself. They were not on first-name basis. Never had been - or had that changed, this morning? After a kiss, should they not be calling each other by their first names?

Never mind.

Had Lucius been a good father, or a horrid one, to Malfoy? Malfoy had no doubt been spoiled silly with things and expensive clothes, but he had not appeared to be the least bit happy about his father coming to Hogwarts. He had claimed since, that he was not his father.

He doesn't want Snape dead, Harry thought.

He climbed into bed, the other boys already sleeping. Ron snored lightly, but Harry had been sleeping in the same dorm as him for the last six years, so it did not annoy him. Still, his mind would not quieten.

So Malfoy kisses me and might be good, and Snape is sick and has always been horrid but he was a spy for us and helped us win the war, and Lucius is an arse who's trying to murder both me and Snape.

I thought the war was over, Harry thought to himself, muttering even in his own head.

Hours passed, and Harry fell into a hesitant sleep. Then something tugged at Harry's cover. Sleepily, he jerked it back, hoping that the tugging would stop. Now that he had finally fallen asleep, he wanted to get a few hours of shuteye before the new day. The tugging did stop, but instead the something began poking his shoulder. Harry opened one sleepy eye, only to look into a pair of huge, tennis ball-like eyes.

"Dobby, what are you doing here?" Harry groaned at the small house-elf.

"Dobby is so sorry to wake Mr. Potter," the elf said, "But Dobby needs to tell a thing."

---

There was an annoying knocking on the door. Hermione, who wanted to sleep for just a bit longer, groaned. Why could the students of this school not wait until breakfast to bother her with their problems? She was Head Girl, but she did need her sleep. But her wish to remain in bed fell short, for the pounding continued, getting heavier and louder.

"I'm coming!" Hermione yelled to whoever was knocking. The pounding immediately stopped. She pulled on a robe, and told the portrait to let the visitors in.

Instead of some second years, worried about something or other, as Hermione had expected, Harry and Ron came running inside. It surprised Hermione.

"What could you two possibly have to say to me this early in the morning?" she asked, flopping down in her chair. "You're never up this early of your own free will."

"No, Hermione, this is something completely different," Harry said. "It's about Snape."

Hermione sat up slowly, possibly interested. She noted the look of sadness as Harry began telling the two what had happened the night before in the Hospital Wing. He told them about Professor Flitwick turning him over to Madam Pomfrey instead, and how he had seen Snape up there.

"He looks bad, guys. And I don't mean just sick - he looks more like he's... dying. And Dumbledore said as much."

Hermione could not help but gasp. She was not particularly fond of the Potions master; she had always thought he treated Harry unfairly and acted as too big a git for her to see his redeeming qualities. Still, he had been pivotal to their winning the war, and she would not wish death on anyone - at least anyone but Voldemort. Shocked, she listened to Harry as he continued.

"He's so pale, and so thin," Harry said. "He wasn't awake for more than a few minutes at a time."

Ron kept silent throughout the story. Hermione knew his hatred had settled deeper than Hermione's and his sense of wanting revenge for all the rude comments and lost house points had always been stronger, his emotions taking over rather than logic and rationality. But he did listen, and that had to count for something.

Harry spoke, and Hermione had a feeling that he left bits and pieces of what had happened the day before out, but she did not say anything. Some things had to be private after all.

"This morning, Dobby came to our dorm," Harry said.

"Dobby? The house-elf? What did he want?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"One and the same," Harry said. "He said he had to tell me something."

"And what was that?" Ron said. Harry had obviously not told him anything, just to come along, so Hermione assumed he was hearing this for the first time just like her.

"Well, for one thing, that Snape was in fact poisoned," Harry said. "Apparently, it happened the night of the feast. Someone put the poison in Snape's drink, and Dobby saw it happen, but the goblet was taken away before Dobby could do anything about it. The other house-elves don't listen to him much, apparently, and they've been telling him he shouldn't be saying anything to anyone because it's not their business."

Ron snorted at this - no one listened much to Dobby.

"So who did it? You said Dobby knew," Hermione said. "Is it who we think it is?"

Harry nodded. "So now we have a bit of proof - we just need more. A house elf won't convict him. But then we'll send the arsehole to Azkaban."

"Merlin, and I thought the war was over," Ron said.

"Yeah, well, Lucius bloody Malfoy obviously thinks life treated him unfairly and that he should be getting revenge," Harry said.

"What about Draco?" Hermione asked. "Is he involved?"

Harry shook his head, and Hermione was surprised to detect a slight blush on his cheeks. She stored this away for later pondering. "I really don't think so. He seems to genuinely like Snape and he's been worried about him too."

"He did say he's not his father when he gave me the vials, and it did help Snape," Hermione said.

Ron looked between Hermione and Harry. "So--if we know who did it, what do we do now?"

"That was the other part of why Dobby came to see me," Harry said. Then he carefully plucked the goblet from his robes. "This is the goblet that Lucius put the poison in - Snape's goblet. Dobby thought it best to keep it away from the rest after seeing his old master down in the kitchens."

"Smart elf," Hermione said, and the three shared a quick grin.

---

A dark shadow moved. He saw the two boys leaving the room with a promise to meet up in the common room before breakfast. They said their goodbyes and the boys climbed through the portrait hole. It slid back to cover the opening soundlessly.

The man watched the girl move around the room to get ready. She went into the shower, and he positioned himself right outside the door of the bathroom. He kept completely still. One movement, one sound, and the bright girl on the other side of the door would be tipped off as to what was awaiting her. He forced his breathing to steadiness, a skill he had acquired years and years ago. He heard a hand being placed on the handle, and he raised his wand. His heart beat rapidly in anticipation.

The door opened.

She did not have time to scream.

---

Hermione headed off to the Owlery before breakfast, telling Harry and Ron she had to see if a certain book on rare poisons was available for fast delivery.

"Okay," Harry said, "We'll see you at breakfast."

Harry and Ron made their way to breakfast in silence. Harry worried about Snape, trying to get used to that feeling, while Ron still could not quite bring himself to care. He did not want the man dead, but he was not much bothered with keeping him alive, either. The man had been too rude, too many times for his feelings to simply change overnight.

No matter Ron's difficulty caring, the trio had decided upon a course of action while they sat in Hermione's room - Hermione would spend her free time in the library, researching any and all types of fatal potions. This would not be odd since she always spent her free time in the library anyway. Harry would try to get to talk to Draco. Ron would help where he could, mostly by Hermione's side.

Hermione would also take the goblet to the Headmaster, after performing the necessary protection charms on it, to save any remains of the poison. They had decided to leave it up to Hermione, because she was far better than either Harry or Ron at charms, and she could explain what she had done to the goblet better.

"I'll go right after breakfast," Hermione had promised.

Snape's seat was still empty when they came in. Though Harry knew the man would return today, he could not quite make sense of how they would manage it. The way Snape had seemed to have to fight to keep his eyes open the night before did not seem like a professor ready to teach classes. The pale complexion of his face, greyer than normal, and the dark circles beneath his eyes and the way he had screamed, trapped in his nightmare - nothing had suggested an ability to return to teaching. He had thrown up, and he had allowed Harry to soothe him with the damp cloth, without comments and without a loss of house points.

Suddenly, gasps could be heard among the students. Harry looked up from his plate, and followed everyone's gazes.

There, by the main doors of the Great Hall, the professor occupying Harry's thoughts stood. His face was set in a scowl as always, though Harry wondered if that was not more because he was concentrating so hard on staying standing, rather than because he was angry.

Snape made his way up to the High Table. His motions were stiff, and Harry could tell that he was tired even from the short journey from the entrance to the teachers' table. The Headmaster walked just behind his Potions master, looking both proud and worried.

As Professor Snape sat down, he directed a few of his trademark glares at some students who were whispering. They quit immediately.

For a brief moment, Snape met Harry's gaze - and an understanding flowed between them. For Harry, it was a promise that he would keep some of the events of the night before to himself. An agreement that also meant that no matter what Professor Snape would say to him in the future, this would always be there, a slight shift.

They both knew in that short moment when their eyes locked, that they no longer hated each other. Harry doubted he would ever like the man, but not hating him was a start.

When the eye contact broke, reality suddenly dawned on Harry.

If Hermione did not do a damn good job in the library and find the poison and its antidote, then it would not matter what Harry's relationship with Snape was like. For if they did not have the antidote within then next day or two, Snape would be dead.

The owls came with the mail then, dropping Hermione's copy of The Daily Prophet off, but carrying nothing for Harry or Ron. The birds disappeared one after the other, and discussions resumed.

"Harry, check out that one," Ron said.

Harry looked up to find a black bird circling the room. It was not an owl, but a larger, more finely carved bird.

A hawk.

"Those are the Malfoy hawks," Ron said with a roll of his eyes, "because of course, they can't be like everyone else."

The hawk held something in one of its claws and it was obviously searching for the receiver as it circled. Harry glanced at the Slytherin table and found that Malfoy had not yet arrived.

Then the door opened, and Draco Malfoy walked inside, calmly - until he saw the black hawk, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Suddenly, the hawk locked its eyes with Harry. It screeched.

Harry barely had time to react. He saw Malfoy start to run, heard him scream, and then he tackled Harry off the bench. Harry hit the ground with an 'oumphf!', the wind knocked out of him as he landed on the stone floor, and his head exploding in pain.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" Ron yelled.

Ron punched Malfoy, who landed next to Harry on the floor. Harry looked foggily around, his head throbbing. He saw Malfoy, eyes wide with--fear? His eyes were not on Ron, but up in the ceiling - on the black hawk.

The bird released whatever it had been holding. It fell towards Harry, and Harry thought dimly that perhaps he should move away. He could not make his body work.

Malfoy threw himself on top of him at the very last second.

The item, a small stone, landed on him instead, and Malfoy let out a blood-curdling scream.

~*~